“You asked Zane a couple months ago to look into Dad’s death. Why did you do that?”
Patsy looked down at the dog and gently tugged at the silky fur on the droopy ears. “Because it wasn’t right. I could feel something was off.” She met Stevie’s gaze. “And now you’re going to tell me I was right.”
Carly sucked in a breath. “What’d he find?”
Stevie steeled her spine. “The medical examiner found traces of C-22 in Dad’s tissue samples he’d kept from the autopsy.”
“What is C-22?” asked Patsy.
“The current street drug that’s invaded southwest Oregon. There’ve been several deaths from it. It seems to mimic a heart attack and it takes a specific test to find the drug in an autopsy.”
“Is it the one that killed the Brandt boy at O’Rourke’s Lake two months ago?”
Stevie nodded. “They ran a ton of chemical screens on Hunter Brandt because his death was so odd. With Dad they stuck to the standard tests. They’d thought he’d had a heart attack and nothing showed up on their usual tox screens.”
“What does that mean?” whispered Carly. “Why did Dad take the drug? Did he not know what it was?”
“Or did someone slip it to him?” Patsy asked softly. “Oh, girls. I knew something was very off about his death.”
“Someone murdered Dad?” Carly shook her head. “That’s impossible. Who’d do that?” Her voice rose.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. We stopped one distributor of the drug when Ted Warner died, but the drug is very active in the coastal cities. Zane assumes someone else will step into Ted’s shoes, but his main concern—and Seth’s too—is finding the supplier. Someone’s making this drug. Obviously it doesn’t always kill, so either the deaths are from taking too much or from a bad batch.”
Silent tears streamed from Carly’s eyes. Patsy passed the dog to Carly, who took her without a word and laid her cheek on the dog’s soft head. Patsy held out a hand to each of her daughters and they grabbed them. She looked her girls in the eyes.
“We’ll get through this. It doesn’t change what’s already happened. It’s just cranked up the pain a few notches. We’ve already been through the worst.”
“No! No, this is much worse.” Carly straightened and brushed at her tears. “Someone deliberately killed our father! I don’t understand. Everyone loved him. Were they all just being polite to his face? And our faces? I feel like our town has suddenly turned on us.”
“You’re wrong, Carly,” Patsy stated firmly. “This town loves us and it loved your father. I felt their sorrow when he died, and I still get support from the people of Solitude. When he passed they felt like part of the foundation of our town was ripped out from underneath. They’ve had to rebuild too.” She looked at Stevie. “Zane’s gone a long way in helping Solitude get back to normal. Everyone sees him as a perfect successor to Bill.”
“That’s great,” Stevie said faintly, thinking of Zane’s worries that the town still saw him as an outsider.
“What about Roy?” Carly asked. “Seth told me the drug task force is investigating him. Is he tied up in this too?”
“We don’t know yet.” Stevie picked up the remains of her napkin and tore it into smaller pieces. “We’re looking into it.” She stole a look at her mother, who had her gaze on Carly and the dog. Concern shone from her eyes, but not about her husband’s death; it was about the healing of her daughters. Sometimes holding an animal balanced one’s perspective of the world. The little dog radiated this otherworldly charm in spades.
“How about Magic for a name?” Stevie suggested.
Patsy turned understanding brown eyes her way. “That’s perfect.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Zane returned the third greeting from someone who’d passed him and Stevie on the sidewalk. He’d convinced her to get out of the office to grab some lunch. Both of their heads ached from sorting through Roy’s bank and credit card records. Luckily it’d been a slow morning. No one had needed the services of the Solitude Police Department and they’d worked uninterrupted for hours.
Now he wanted a burger and something really cold to drink.
“It’s freaking hot,” muttered Stevie. “I can’t remember a summer this hot. We’re lucky we haven’t had any fires.” She smiled and nodded at another passerby. “I’ll never complain about the rain again.”
Zane pulled open the door to the Dairy Queen and sighed as the cool air blew over him. “We need better air conditioning at the office.”
“I’ve only suggested that a few dozen times.”
“Not in the budget right now.”
They ordered burgers, fries, and shakes and slid into a hard plastic booth. Zane wondered if the DQ would mind if he brought in his paperwork and set up shop here for a few hours. Looking around at the packed seats, he doubted they’d appreciate his hogging the space. He noticed several people lingering over empty wrappers and trays, loath to go back out into the heat.
“Good afternoon, Chief. Hello, Stevie.”
Zane looked up, his mouth full of burger. Faye O’Rourke and Walt Burrowes, her project foreman from the O’Rourke resort project, were standing beside their booth. Stevie greeted them both and engaged the city councilwoman in a discussion of that night’s Founder’s Day rodeo, while Zane hastily swallowed.
He wiped his mouth as he asked Walt, “How are things out at the resort coming along?” The town had high hopes that the O’Rourkes’ luxury hotel and resort would jump-start the tourist industry. Zane had his own opinion of a town crawling with tourists, but he kept his mouth shut. His budget told him they needed tourists to start spending some money in Solitude. Or else his department needed to start giving out some speeding tickets.
Walt groaned. He was a tall, lean man. Zane was always reminded of Ichabod Crane when he saw him. Something about the skinny angular neck. But Walt knew his business when it came to building. “I had to let another man go this morning. I don’t understand the shoddy work. I’ve had several inspections fail because the work wasn’t done right. The county’s unemployment is at an all-time high, so you’d think people would work harder to keep their jobs.”
Zane frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not. I’ve got guys driving over an hour from the coast because I need more help. I thought this project would be a good place for Solitude people to work, but few are interested and even fewer are interested in doing a hard day’s work.”
“Walt has high standards,” Faye added, jumping into the conversation. “He’s doing a beautiful job with the hotel. When he’s done, it’ll be a landmark people are dying to stay in.” She looked at him proudly, as if he were her own son, making Zane wonder how Katelyn felt when she saw the two of them together. Katelyn didn’t strike him as the type to share her mother’s affection with an outsider. “We’re going to add a small chapel eventually and take advantage of the destination wedding trend.” Faye met Stevie’s gaze and nodded seriously.
Zane blinked. Solitude? For a destination wedding? He thought people went to Hawaii and Cancún for destination weddings. He looked at Stevie, but she was nodding and smiling at Faye. Which was what everyone did when talking to the town matriarch. Patsy Taylor might be the heart of the town, but Faye O’Rourke was its spine . . . hidden under a baby-pink cardigan on a hundred-degree day.
“How’s the cabin coming along, Zane?” Walt asked. “Did that rainwater recovery system I suggested work out for you?”
“It works perfectly. Say, would you mind looking at some plans I’ve sketched up for another addition? I’m going to have an architect do the master plan, but I’d like an experienced eye to take a look before I give him an idea of what I want.”
“Not a problem,” said Walt. “Glad to know someone’s taking care of that old place. It sat empty for way too long.”
No one knew that better than Zane. He’d fallen in love with the money pit the first time he’d
spotted it. Something about its location on the bluff, surrounded by tall firs. It had a sweeping view of the Rogue River, but had been neglected for two decades. He’d spent two years making the tiny place habitable. Now he was ready to make it a spacious home.
“So it’s confirmed that Roy Krueger was murdered?” asked Faye. “I shudder to think that something that violent happened to one of our own.” She placed a hand on her chest, her lined face drooping. “And to someone who held such a position of responsibility. Do you have any leads?”
“We’re working on it, ma’am,” Zane answered politely.
“No murder weapon?” asked Walt.
“Not yet. They’re still searching the area where he was found.”
Faye clucked her tongue. “Such a shame. This town has had too much sorrow. It was suggested at the last council meeting to cancel the Founder’s Day celebration, but I argued that we needed every bit of cheering up that we could get.”
“You have a good point,” said Stevie. “I see the intention of the suggestion, but letting tragedy change how we live our lives doesn’t do the dead any favors. It gives credence to those who committed the acts.”
Faye turned a thoughtful gaze on Stevie. “Well spoken. That’s almost exactly what I told them.” She looked at Zane. “I know you’ll figure out what Roy was up to.”
Walt and Faye said their goodbyes.
“So Faye thinks Roy was ‘up to’ something?” Stevie pointed out, biting into a fry.
“I caught that. I’m guessing she heard about the boat and equipment.”
“Can’t keep anything quiet in this town.”
“Of course not,” said a new voice. “Everyone would be completely bored. Gossip gives them something to do.”
Why can’t we eat in peace?
Zane held his exasperation in check as he greeted Eric Hearne and his brother JD. By the look on Eric’s face, his interest in Stevie hadn’t waned. His green gaze carefully took stock of their seating arrangement, making Zane want to slide into the booth on Stevie’s side and claim his territory. But when in uniform, he and Stevie presented a professional front. JD hung back, shoveling bites of a Blizzard into his mouth. Eric’s younger brother had yet to impress Zane; the twentysomething was perpetually unemployed even though his family owned the hardware store. Rumor had it he wasn’t reliable. And if your family found you unreliable, who else in town would hire you?
“I just wanted to extend my sympathies about Roy Krueger,” Eric was saying to Stevie. “He was a good one, and I know he was close to your family.”
“Thank you. Yes, he was.”
Eric excused himself, and JD saluted them with his long spoon.
“Two very different brothers,” Zane commented.
“They always have been. But look at my brothers. James and Bruce are on opposite ends of the spectrum too.”
She had a point. Bruce lived in her mother’s basement and hung out with his aspiring rock band, while James had completed law school, become Solitude’s mayor, and started a family. And stumbled briefly, but seemed to be on the right track now.
“I was thinking of working here in the DQ since it’s cooler, but I’d never get anything done,” said Zane. “It’s like we have a sign asking people to stop and talk.”
“They like you,” Stevie pointed out. “You keep telling me you feel like an outsider, but frankly I think the people here adore you. Once you have a few more years under your belt, they’ll feel like they own a piece of your history. That’s when you’ll feel like you belong. Or when you do something stupid so that you can be known as . . . that police chief who accidentally burned down his cabin, or something equally notorious. Then they’ll have a place to permanently classify you in their heads. You simply haven’t done anything spectacularly stupid or brilliant yet.”
“What do they know about you?”
She put her head in her hands. “Where to begin? I guess most recently I’m the daughter that went to LA and came back. I haven’t heard how they’re describing the reason I came back. I hope no one is saying I couldn’t hack it in LA.”
“I haven’t heard that. But that’s not exactly spectacular. I assume you did something spectacular when you were younger?” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I guess I could just ask Faye. I’m sure she has a story or two to tell. What would she share with me first?”
Stevie twisted her lips. “She’d probably mention the time I dyed half my hair blue and the other half red. Or the yin-yang tattoo on my ankle. That was a big deal around here back then, when the only people with tattoos were bikers or sailors.”
“Hmmm. So that’s the kind of kid you were?”
“I like to believe it’s not representative of my entire character.”
Zane’s phone rang and he glanced at the screen. “It’s Seth. The county office was running some of the evidence found at Roy’s scene.” He glanced around, decided no one was close enough to eavesdrop, and took the call.
“Zane, I got back the ballistics report on the bullets found at the Roy Krueger scene.”
“And?” Zane could hear the excitement in the investigator’s voice.
“They match up with another death we had in one of the coast towns about a month ago. It’s still unsolved. We found a guy downtown, near a section where the druggies like to hang out, and he’d been shot in the head too.”
“Same way as Roy?” Zane asked quietly.
“Not exactly. He was shot in the chest but still had the two shots to the head. The examiner said he was standing when he was shot in the chest and then was on his back when the killer put two bullets in his forehead.”
“Christ.”
“I know. No witnesses, no gun, no shells. The victim was a known dealer. And we’d sort of assumed it was a deal gone bad.”
“Never assume.”
“I tried not to, but that was the angle we were investigating.”
“Any family?”
“Not really. He was originally from Portland and had left town two years before. Went through a series of jobs down here and had been picked up twice for selling pot.”
“Any C-22?” Zane held Stevie’s gaze as she listened intently to his side of the conversation.
“No. A few sources said he’d told them he could get it, but no one admitted to ever buying it from him. Surprise, surprise.”
“So Roy was killed by a gun used to kill a dealer at the coast,” Zane summarized as he checked close by for listening ears. “More connections to a possible drug ring.”
“It’s looking more and more like Roy may have been dealing,” Seth said.
“I don’t want to believe that. I like to think I worked with a better man than that.”
Zane ended the call as Stevie tapped her fingers on the table, deep in thought. “That didn’t sound good.”
“It’s not.”
“I want to go look around Roy’s place some more,” said Stevie. “I know the county forensics team removed the boat and other stuff. But I just have a feeling . . .”
Zane studied her. “Go ahead. Officially they’re done.”
Stevie glanced at her watch. “The rodeo starts in a few hours. I’ve got time to go poke around a bit and I’ll meet you there.”
“You’re on duty tonight. Don’t be late.”
“I’m never late,” she stated. “I’ll be there before they start singing the national anthem.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Stevie bit her lip as she strode toward the rodeo ring. The sun was getting ready to set and the sky had turned faint shades of pink and orange. From a hundred yards away, she’d recognized Zane as he leaned against the painted white railing, watching the Founder’s Day court warm up on horseback for the opening ceremony. The five girls wore pink cowboy hats with tiaras and had bouquets of pink and red roses mounted behind their saddles. Nostalgia washed over Stevie. She’d served on the Founder’s Day court three times during high school
, traveling to county fairs and rodeos all over their corner of the state. Her tiara sat in one of her unpacked boxes.
She took the place next to Zane, propping her foot up on the bottom rail. “Hey,” she said softly.
He turned, his eyes brightening as he took her in. Then he frowned. “What’d you find?”
She jerked her head away from the ring, and he followed her a few steps from the growing crowd. She didn’t know whether to be excited or sick over her discovery at Roy’s place. She took a deep breath. “I found eight thousand dollars in a plastic bag at Roy’s.”
Zane’s eyes widened. “Where?”
She rubbed at her forehead. “There’s a false back in one of the cupboards in the kitchen.”
“How did . . .” Zane stared at her. “You knew about it?”
Stevie grimaced. “I forgot. He used to hide candy in there for us kids. He called it his secret stash. I didn’t think of it when we searched the other day, but it occurred to me during lunch today. I wanted to see if I was right before I told you.”
“Anything else in there?”
“No. I called county to come process it. That’s what took me so long.”
Zane sighed. “While you were gone I finished his banking stuff. It all looks very clean. He deposited his paychecks and paid bills. There weren’t any big cash deposits. He had two credit cards that were maxed out.”
“Why didn’t he pay off the credit cards? Was it for more than eight thousand?”
“It was for about ten thousand total. I suspect he didn’t want to deposit any of the money at the bank and create a trail.”
“So it was easier to purchase toys with the cash?” Stevie asked.
“I found the receipts for the boat and WaveRunners. Both were paid for with cash. He bought the boat in February and the WaveRunners in March. Same thing with all the other equipment. They were cash purchases.”
Stevie’s head started to hurt. “How? How did he get involved in this? What exactly was he doing?”
Her Grave Secrets (Rogue River Novella Book 3) Page 5