She’d driven her mother back to town in time to get ready for Ruby’s date with Red Harper. “Are you sure you’re up to going out tonight?” she’d asked her mother, trying to hide her surprise. “I could rent a movie, get us a pizza—” “No.” Ruby had patted McCall’s arm. “I need to see Red. I want to be the one to tell him.” McCall still didn’t know how her mother was really taking the news of her husband’s murder. Maybe it hadn’t sunk in yet. Or maybe it had and she’d been serious about McCall dropping her investigation. “Sure. Whatever you want.” “Your father’s been dead to me for a long time,” Ruby had said. “I guess I just need time, you know?” McCall had guessed so. Everyone in town would be talking about Trace’s murder. Being the woman left alone and pregnant didn’t garner the same kind of sympathy as being the widow of a man unjustly murdered in his prime. Ruby hadn’t gotten to be the grieving widow. Until now. Normally, McCall would have headed to her cabin, anxious for the peace and quiet.
