“Don’t judge me. I’m exhausted.”
She unearthed a portable mug from the cabinet and filled it with coffee. When she stepped outside, a slap of sharp cold bit her cheeks. The sun peeked over the horizon. Tendrils of light sparkled on the morning dew, and the grass shimmered like diamonds.
Luke leaned against his vehicle, texting something on his phone. His gaze lifted to meet hers and his lips tipped at the corners. “Morning.”
“Good morning.” She handed him the travel mug.
His smile grew wider, and her traitorous heart skipped a beat. She shifted her gaze to the house and the barn beyond. She was here to prove Wade’s innocence and get June well, not to deal with the lingering feelings from her broken relationship with Luke.
He took a long sip of the coffee. When he lowered the mug, his expression grew serious. “Any news on June this morning?”
“Still in a coma. The doctor didn’t say much.”
She felt pulled in multiple directions. A large part of her wanted to be at the hospital, holding June’s hand, but her aunt would be the first to say Megan needed to focus on proving Wade’s innocence.
“They have to be cautious,” Luke said softly. “If she hasn’t worsened, it’s a win.”
She nodded. “I keep reminding myself of that.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve had any luck on your search.”
“Not yet, but I still have to go through my aunt’s bedroom.”
She’d saved it for last. Although it was a necessary step and one her aunt would understand, it was an invasion of June’s privacy. Megan had hoped the evidence would be somewhere else in the house.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Would you like breakfast?”
Say no, say no, say no. The last thing she wanted to do was break bread with the man who’d hurt her so deeply, but Luke had slept in his vehicle outside last night, protecting her. The manners her mother instilled in her wouldn’t allow Megan to refuse him basic hospitality.
Her mixed emotions must have shown in her expression because he frowned and said, “No, I’ll get breakfast at my place, thanks.”
“Okay.”
He gestured toward the barn. “I took care of Cinnamon this morning. She’s out in the pasture and her stall is clean.”
She stiffened. “You didn’t have to do that.”
The words came out snappy and harsh. What was wrong with her?
He scratched his chin. “It was only one horse, Megs. It’s not a big deal.”
With a jolt, her brain caught up with her emotions. After Wade’s conviction, June had sold all their other horses, including Megan’s. It was a reasonable choice—it was a lot to keep up with on her own—but losing Fiona, her gentle quarter horse, still stung. Another thing her family had lost, part of the fallout she blamed on Luke.
He took another drink of coffee. “Hank will come by in half an hour to watch over things while I go home and grab a fresh change of clothes.”
Luke’s stepfather was a man of few words and the ones he spoke were often gruff, but he was as steady as an old oak tree. He’d married Nancy, Luke’s mother, and they’d moved to Cardin ten years ago. Luke had followed after college.
“Do you think that’s necessary?” she asked. “I’m sure Hank has better things to do.”
“Naw, gives him an excuse to get away from tilling Mom’s new garden. You’re helping him out. Besides, I’m not taking any chances. You shouldn’t either. When you go back inside, lock the door behind you.”
“I will.”
Megan walked back to the house. The warmth inside embraced her and her cheeks tingled. She stripped off her boots and jacket. Her aunt’s cat was nestled on the couch. He blinked his bicolored eyes at her.
“Where would June have hidden the evidence, Archimedes?” She stroked his fur, and he purred. “You’re no help.”
Megan poured a fresh cup of coffee and took it to June’s bedroom. Sunlight drifted through the pale-blue curtains. The checkered comforter was tucked under the pillows, and it smelled of furniture polish and lavender. A worn Bible rested on the nightstand. Next to it, a framed photograph caught her eye and twisted her heart until it hurt to breathe.
It’d been taken the day of her brother’s high school graduation. Wade, standing between her and June, had an arm slung around each woman. His cap was askew on his head, the wind billowing his gown around his knees. They were all caught midlaugh, blissfully unaware that in few short years, Wade would be convicted of murder and their entire lives would be altered forever.
Megan squared her shoulders. Enough. It was time to get to work.
The evidence had to be here, and she would find it.
Luke’s lower back ached from sitting in his vehicle all night, and his eyes felt gritty. Keeping watch over June’s house—and Megan—had been necessary, but it hadn’t done his body any favors. He buttoned up a fresh shirt and pointedly refused to look at the bed. There wasn’t time for a catnap.
He tucked his Sig P226 into its holster and adjusted the sports coat to cover it before picking up the knife from his nightstand. Luke rubbed the ornate pearl handle. It’d been a gift from June when he first learned of his acceptance into the academy. A foreshadowing, or perhaps God’s intervention, the same knife had cut her free from the car yesterday. Sending up a quick prayer for June’s recovery, Luke tucked the knife into his boot.
His cell phone vibrated against the dresser top, and he scooped it up, glancing at the caller ID.
His father. Again.
Luke’s finger hovered over the phone before he hit the reject button. Patrick Tatum had moved to town six months ago, asking for grace and seeking to reconnect. Forgiveness had been easy to give. Sitting in anger over his father’s addiction and subsequent abandonment had been eating Luke alive, and for his own sake,
