Peggy Moreland - In The Arms Of The Law

“…overflowing with tender characters, emotional scenes and an intense, thrilling premise.”

—Romantic Times on Groom of Fortune

“Peggy Moreland deftly handles a sensitive subject, while adding mystery to this fine romance.”

—Romantic Times on Her Lone Star Protector

“…a charming tale with a wonderful cast of characters, great development and an engaging premise.”

—Romantic Times on Millionaire Boss

“For outstanding authenticity in western-influenced, Texas-based romances, one only has to look for the name Peggy Moreland on the cover.”

—Sharon Galliger Chance

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Dear Reader,

Writing is often a challenge, but never more so than when writing a continuity series with over a dozen other authors! Inevitably, there are facts to double-check, dates and time lines to coordinate and character traits to verify. But, oh, what fun it is to work with such a talented and creative group of ladies!

Normally the heroes I write about are ranchers or cowboys and the women who steal their hearts, so writing about a police officer, who also happened to be a Native American, required quite a bit of research. I found the entire process fascinating and discovered along the way that law enforcement officers and Native Americans aren’t really all that different from my cowboys. Both groups represent men of integrity who are willing to fight for what they believe in, and who are prepared to defend those whom they love. What more could a woman ask for in a man?

I hope you enjoy reading my contribution to THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS: REUNION series and sharing in Gabe Thunderhawk and Andrea Matthews’s romantic adventures as they find love. I hope, too, that you enjoy your vicarious visit to my home state of Texas, where romance is always waiting for you just around the next bend in the road.

Best wishes,

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Bonus Features

The glare of the midday sun and lack of wind had turned Lake Mondo into a mirror, its surface reflecting the cedars and outcropping of rocks that lined its shore. A long wooden dock—bleached a dull gray by weather and time—stretched out over the water and bobbed lazily in the slow-moving current. On any other day, swimmers and fishermen alike would be vying for position on the planked walkway, as well as along the lake’s shore. But today both the dock and the shoreline were empty…except for the lone body lying faceup beneath a white sheet.

Yellow crime-scene tape sectioned off a large portion of the area surrounding the dock, holding back the curious and morbid who had gathered. The few officials allowed beyond the tape huddled in a loose group, their expressions grim, as they watched the police photographer digitally record the scene.

Quickly assessing the area as she approached, Detective Andrea Matthews ducked beneath the tape and headed straight for the body. The stench that grew stronger with each step was her first clue that this wasn’t a recent drowning.

In her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of Red Rock Police Officer Gabe Thunderhawk breaking away from the group and heading her way. She swallowed a groan when he stopped in front of her and braced his hands on his hips, successfully blocking her progress, as well as her view of the corpse. Since he had about five inches on her five foot seven inch frame, she was forced to look up at him, a form of intimidation she was sure he intended. Though he was as handsome as the devil himself and a lot easier to look at than a corpse, she had a job to do and wasn’t interested in getting into a verbal sparring match over who was in charge of this investigation, which was what she figured he had in mind.

Hoping to avoid an altercation, she lifted her chin, indicating the body behind him. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a floater.”

He glanced over his shoulder, then returned his gaze to hers. “Good deduction, Detective.”

Though his expression remained bland, his sarcasm set her teeth on edge. Rather than respond to it, she stepped around him, planning to ignore him.

He quickly shifted to block her way. “No need for you to concern yourself with this one. I’ve got everything under control.”

At the end of her patience, she squared off with him. “You know damn good and well that when there’s a body involved, it’s my job to investigate it. Now, you can either assist in the investigation or get the hell out of my way, because I intend to do my job, with or without your cooperation.”

He met her gaze a full ten seconds, making her think he was going to force the issue, but finally stepped aside.

Pulling a mask from her blazer pocket, she nodded to the police photographer, before slipping it over her head to cover her nose and mouth. With her gaze on the body, she tugged on a pair of protective gloves and hunkered down beside it. Careful not to disturb any evidence, she lifted the sheet to expose the victim’s face. Finding him lying facedown, she dropped the sheet back over him.

“Help me turn him over,” she instructed Gabe.

Keeping the cover in place, they worked together to roll the victim to his back, then Andrea lifted the sheet again. Although this wasn’t the first drowning she’d investigated, she had to swallow back the nausea that burned the back of her throat. Blank eyes stared up at her from a bloated and distorted face. The victim’s skin, blanched a sickly blue-white, was pitted where bits of flesh were missing, probably due to predators he’d encountered during the time he’d spent in the water.

There was also what appeared to be a bullet hole between his eyes.

Aware that Gabe was watching for her reaction, she set her jaw and dropped the sheet back over the victim’s face. Pulling the mask down, she stood to face the officer. “So what have you got?”

“Nine-one-one call came in about an hour ago. Placed by the fishing guide who found the body. The guy’s sitting in the back seat of my patrol car. Still pretty shook up.”

She nodded grimly. “I would imagine he is.” Frowning, she circled the body, examining it from different angles. “Any ID?”

“Checked his pockets. No wallet or any kind of ID, although I did notice what appears to be a birthmark on his hip. Looks like we’ve got a John Doe.”

“The M.E.’s report will detail any identifying marks.” She stopped and hunkered down beside the body again, lifting the sheet away from the lower extremities. “He wasn’t dressed for fishing or swimming,” she commented, noting the slacks he wore.

“Judging by the three holes in his head, I’d say his visit to the lake wasn’t recreational.”