Gun-Shy Bride by B.J. Daniels Read Free Book Online Page A

piled up beside the bed. Trace had lived and breathed hunting. He’d been like his father that way.
    Her husband, Call, came to mind. She chased that memory away like a pesky fly, wishing she could kill it.
    The door to the closet was open, and she could see most of Trace’s clothes still hanging inside it, also covered with dust just like his guitar in the corner, like his high school sports trophies lined up on the shelves and his wild animal posters on the walls.
    Pepper stood in the middle of the room feeling weak and angry at herself for that weakness. No wonder she had avoided this room, like so many others, all these years.
    But as she stood there, she realized there was nothing of Trace left here. There was no reason to lock the room anymore or to keep what her son had left behind.
    Trace Winchester was gone and he wasn’t coming back.
    That realization struck her to her core since she’d held on to the opposite belief for the past twenty-seven years.
    Tears blurred her eyes as she looked around the room realizing what had changed. She’d become convinced her son was never coming home the moment she’d laid eyes on his deputy daughter.
     
    M C C ALL MENTALLY KICKED herself for the position she’d put herself in as she pulled into the sheriff’s department parking lot. If she’d told the sheriff up front about what she’d found and her suspicions—
    When he’d called this morning, he hadn’t said why he wanted to see her, just that he did, even though it was her day off. He had only said it was important.
    The best thing she could do was confess all.
    Except as she got out of her pickup, she knew she couldn’t do that. Not yet. Once she told Grant about the hunting license, the news would be all over town.
    Right now she had a slim advantage to find the killer because he didn’t know she was after him yet.
    Even if the killer—who she was assuming still lived in Whitehorse since few people left—had heard about the discovery of the bones, he would still think he was safe. He’d taken everything that identified the body—even her father’s boots, his wallet, his pickup and rifle—all things that could have identified the body.
    The killer just hadn’t known about the hunting license in one of Trace’s pockets, apparently.
    As McCall started toward her boss’s office, she hesitated. She was jeopardizing more than her job by investigating this on her own. Once she started asking questions around town, the killer would know she was on to him and she would be putting her life in danger.
    But if there was even a chance that Trace Winchester wouldn’t have run out on them, that he’d have stayed and made them a family, then she owed it to all of them to find out who had taken that away.
    “Thanks for coming in,” Sheriff Grant Sheridan said as she tapped on his open door. He motioned to a chair in front of his desk. “Please close the door.”
    She stepped in, shutting the door behind her. Grant leaned back in his chair. He was a stocky, reasonably attractive man, with dark hair graying at the temples, intense blue eyes and a permanent grave expression.
    A contemporary of her mother’s, McCall had heard that the two had once dated back in high school, but then who hadn’t her mother dated?
    “How are you this morning?” Grant asked as McCall sat.
    “Fine.” She hoped this wasn’t about her visit yesterday to the Winchester Ranch but maybe that was better than the alternative.
    “I talked to the crime lab this morning,” he said, not sounding happy about it.
    She felt her heart drop. The DNA couldn’t have come back already. But Grant could have heard about the unauthorized test.
    “I’ve asked them to put a rush on those remains you sent them,” Grant said.
    “A rush?” she echoed. She’d thought she’d have time. Now, her undercover sleuthing aside, once the sheriff found out about the DNA test and the hunting licenseshe’d be lucky to still have a job. Worse, she could end up