B.J. Daniels - Rugged Defender

“Just not enough.” She licked her lips, her throat working for a moment. “That’s the story of my life. I’ve never felt like enough.”

“I know that feeling.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “I’ve let men use me...” Her voice broke.

The pickup cab filled with a heavy silence. Outside the wind picked up and began to lift the new snow into the air.

“I hate that you feel I was one of those men.”

She looked over at him, her gaze softening. “I wanted more so I was angry, but I never felt that way about...us.”

He finally asked, “So you met him that night out at the ranch.”

She nodded solemnly. “It was just as I thought. He got what he wanted and told me to leave.”

Justin had been in the horse barn when he’d heard the shots and looked out. He’d seen her drive away. He’d run to his brother’s cabin some distance from the main house and found him. Only minutes later his father burst in to find him holding the gun. He’d always wondered if Bert Calhoun had seen Nici driving away and never said anything.

Justin had kept his mouth shut as well, covering for her. He’d never told anyone—not even the sheriff. “Did you see anyone else? Or did Drew mention anything that might have been going on with him?” For a moment, he thought she wasn’t going to answer.

“Before I left, he got a call. He stepped outside the cabin to take it. He seemed upset and even more in a hurry for me to leave.”

“You don’t know who it was from?” Justin asked.

Nici shook her head. “It was a woman—I know that. Drew didn’t say much on the phone, but the way he said it... Why did you never tell anyone about seeing me that night?”

He shrugged. “You’d already been in trouble with the law. I was afraid...” He didn’t finish the sentence.

Nici reached over and touched his arm. “I didn’t shoot him. I would have gone to the sheriff if I’d known that everyone would think you did.”

“It wouldn’t have done any good,” he said. “Even you can’t be sure I didn’t kill him.”

She studied him for a long moment. “If I’d been you, I would have killed him. Only I wouldn’t have stopped firing until the gun was empty. He deserved so much worse.”

Chapter Three

Justin drove out to the Rogers Ranch. Dawson was a couple years younger. They’d grown up just down the road from each other. Of all the people he’d known, Justin trusted Dawson the most since they’d been friends since they were kids.

As he drove up into his old friend’s yard, Dawson came out of the barn wiping his hands on a rag. Past him, Justin could see an old tractor with some of its parts lying on a bench nearby.

“You still trying to get that thing running?” he said as he got out of his truck and approached the rancher.

Dawson wiped his right hand on his canvas pants and extended it. They shook hands both smiling at each other. “I swear that tractor is going to be the end of me,” he said, glancing toward the barn. “I know I should get rid of it but we’re like old friends.” His gaze came back to Justin. “Speaking of old friends...”

Justin took a breath and let it out before he said. “I needed to come back and take care of a few things.”

Dawson nodded. “You need a place to stay?”

“I’d appreciate it. I could stay at the hotel in town but—”

“No reason to. You know you’re welcome here. I have a guest room in the house.”

“I’d prefer the bunkhouse if you don’t mind.”

Dawson seemed to study him for a moment. “I was just headed up to the main house. If my mother heard you were staying here and she didn’t get to see you, she’d skin me alive.”

Justin laughed and shook his head. “Worse, she’d skin me alive.”

“Why don’t we hop into my pickup?” his friend suggested. “I want to hear all about where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.”

“Wish it was worth telling. Let’s just say I’ve been on the run, but I’m back.”

“To stay?” Dawson asked.

“Hard to say.”

Dawson slapped him on the shoulder as they neared his truck. “Well, I hope you’re home for good. How long have you been in town?”

“Just got in earlier.”

“Well, then you haven’t heard. Annabelle Clementine and I are engaged.”

“No kidding,” Justin said. “Congratulations. I’m glad to hear that. I always thought you and Annabelle belonged together. I heard her sister Chloe’s here for the holidays.”

* * *

SHERIFF MCCALL CRAWFORD motioned Chloe into her office. “You look so serious, maybe you’d better close the door.”

She smiled as she closed the door and took the chair the sheriff offered her. “I’m here about the Drew Calhoun shooting.”

McCall nodded. “What about it?”

“I’d like to see the file.” The sheriff raised a brow. “It happened five years ago and was ruled an accident. I wouldn’t think you’d have a problem with my seeing it.”

“I have to ask why you’re interested,” McCall said. “As a reporter?”

“I’m currently not a reporter for a newspaper,” she said, but feeling like whatever had pushed her into that career would always be with her. Curiosity. The kind that killed cats. “I’m taking some time off to consider my options.”

“What exactly are you looking for then with Drew Calhoun’s death?” the sheriff asked.

“Answers.”

McCall said nothing for a few moments. “Is there anyone who might want to get you involved in his death?”

She thought of Justin. “Not that I know of.”

“So why get involved?”

“It’s what I do. I’m an investigative reporter. Maybe it is the years of doing this for a living, but I feel there might be more to the story.”

“There isn’t. I investigated Drew Calhoun’s death. It was an accident.”

Chloe studied her for a moment. She’d heard good things about McCall. “Then there shouldn’t be a problem with looking into the case.”

“I would be happy to tell you anything you’d like to know.” McCall leaned back in her chair. “Ask away.”

“I understand Bert Calhoun believes his son Justin fired the fatal shot. Was there gunshot residue on Justin’s hands and clothing?”

“Some.”

Chloe blinked. She hadn’t been expecting that.

The sheriff continued. “Why don’t I tell you exactly what’s in the report? Drew was found by his brother, Justin, in a cabin on the property. The gun belonged to Drew. Justin said he heard two gunshots and went to investigate.”

“ Two shots?”

“One bullet caught Drew in the heart, the other lodged in the wall by the door, which he was facing. Both were from the same gun, the one Justin said he found his brother holding in his lap.”

“So how did Justin—”

“Drew was still alive, according to his brother, and trying to fire the gun a third time. Justin rushed to him and took the gun away from him and called for help. But before the ambulance and EMTs could get there, Drew died.”

Chloe sat back. “So why did I hear Bert Calhoun thinks Justin killed his brother?”

The sheriff shook her head. “I’ve found grieving parents especially have trouble accepting their child’s death. They don’t want to face it. They tell me that their son knew guns, had since he was a boy. That he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to shoot himself.” She shrugged. “The truth is accidents happen all the time. People get careless.”

“Was there any sign of a struggle?” Chloe asked.

McCall glanced away and Chloe knew she’d hit on something. “Apparently Drew had a run-in with someone earlier that night. He’d been drinking, according to the blood alcohol level hours later. He had a split lip, a cut over one eye. The eye was nearly swollen shut, which could also explain why he was careless with the gun. He had lacerations on his arms and jaw.”