No, Lord, no. Not Luke. Please, God, we’ve just found each other again.
A shadowy figure stepped from the opposite tree line, a rifle held ready. Megan ducked. The tree next to her head exploded, spraying bark and shards of wood.
She spun on her heel and took off. If the shooter wanted Franny’s journal, then he could come and take it. Distracting him would give backup time to arrive and help Luke and Sheriff Franklin.
The trees flew past. The scent of leaves and dirt and her own fear choked her. She tripped over another root and slammed to the ground. Luke’s gun sailed out of her hand, landing in the bushes. She crawled over, her hands patting the earth while desperate seconds ticked by.
A rustle came from the leaves. Megan bolted to her feet, leaving the gun behind, and ran. The trees thinned. A lake shimmered in the moonlight. The house Franny had been killed in wasn’t far.
Her legs trembling and her lungs burning, Megan was forced to slow down. How had the shooter figured out they’d found the journal?
Don’t trust anyone.
Her aunt’s voice mail held a warning she needed to heed. Chest heaving, Megan’s gaze darted around, and she spotted a fallen branch covered in bushes. Slipping her hands between the branches, she shoved Franny’s journal underneath the log. She wasn’t taking any chances.
Deed done, she raced along the edge of the tree line around the lake. The roads intersected on the west side. If she could get there, she could find help. She willed more power into her legs.
A figure darted out from the bushes and blocked her path. She gasped and drew up short, skidding against the wet pine needles and nearly falling backward. Dressed in camouflage and boots, night-vision goggles hung round his neck, Heath Dickerson pointed a rifle straight at Megan’s heart.
Twenty-Two
“Give me the journal,” Heath demanded.
Megan heart thundered against her ribcage. She backed up a step.
“Don’t move,” he barked. “And don’t even think about lying. I know you retrieved it from June’s barn. I have a police scanner and heard every word Sheriff Franklin said to dispatch.”
She swallowed. “I don’t have it.”
“It wasn’t in Luke’s truck, so I’ll ask one more time before I shoot.” His tone was hard. “Where. Is. The. Journal?”
Think. Think. She pulled air into her lungs. “I hid it.”
He glared at her for a long heartbeat. “Unzip your jacket.”
She did, opening it wide so he could see the journal wasn’t tucked inside. She lifted it and turned around.
He rushed her, wrapped a hand around her throat, and shoved her against a tree. “I ought to choke the living daylights out of you.”
A branch dug into the back of her head. Heat rose in her body as Heath squeezed tighter. Megan couldn’t breathe. She grasped his hand in a futile attempt to break his hold. Her lungs burned and her vision blurred.
He released her and she tumbled to the ground. She wheezed.
“Get up. Show me where you hid the journal.” He bent down, his hot breath whispering along her cheek. “I can make your death easy, or painful. The choice is yours.”
Megan drew in shallow breaths. Sharp pain stabbed her lungs. “Okay. I’ll take you.”
She used the tree as support and staggered to her feet. Like a drunk, she weaved. Megan closed her eyes, willing her body to cooperate. She’d bought time, and every second meant hope.
Luke had taught her that.
Tears pricked her eyes, and she battled them back. She couldn’t think about Luke or she would lose it. She needed to focus. Slipping her hand into her jacket pocket, Megan unlocked her phone. Blindly, using only muscle memory, she hit the call button. If luck was with her, Grace would answer and record the conversation.
“Why do you want the journal?” Megan moved the speaker of her phone outward, praying it would pick up their words.
He laughed. “Your last minutes on earth and that’s what you want to discuss.”
“If I’m going to die, I might as well know why.” She needed to get his confession, and the best way was to appeal to his ego. “Your plan was brilliant. You’ve kept us running in circles.”
Heath chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips. “I did have y’all chasing your tails, didn’t I?”
Megan let out the breath she was holding. Her hunch was right. At his core, Heath was a show-off and desperate for a chance to brag about his accomplishments.
“So, go on and tell me. Franny figured out you were working with Dan to steal from the evidence room, didn’t she?”
Heath’s expression hardened. “She betrayed me. Sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Sheriff Franklin promised me she would only work on the historical cases. He was wrong.”
“When did she figure out you were involved?”
“Two weeks before her death, she caught me in the evidence room. I gave her an excuse, but I could tell she wasn’t buying it.”
Based on evidence the rangers found, a small dig into the records would’ve revealed things were missing from the evidence room. Franny had deduced her father was working with people in the sheriff’s department, and she’d tried to figure out who. It was a brave move for the young woman to take and she’d paid with her life.
“It was smart to team up with Dan,” Megan said, appealing again to his ego. “How did you two start working together?”
“I needed fast cash. Dan wanted to be the next sheriff, and I had the influence to make that happen. It was a win-win.” He shoved the rifle muzzle into her back. “Walk faster.”
She picked up her pace half a beat. “Did you hire Quentin, or was that Dan?”
“Me. I knew Quentin from the rodeo days. We stored the guns and drugs we took from the evidence room on my ranch, and he picked them up for sale.”
“Things must have been going well for you until Quentin figured out you’d given the okay for Dan to kill your daughter.”
Megan was taking a guess, but
