Her Grave Secrets (Rogue River Novella Book 3) (11 page)

Gentle wind rushed through the firs. It smelled hot and dry, with that baked-pinecone odor that belongs to a long hot summer.

“Zane?” she yelled at the cabin.

All quiet.

Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions.
Zane and Walt were probably around back, eagerly discussing foundations and framing.

What sounded like an ax splitting wood reached her ears.

“Zane?”

Silence again. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she stepped toward the house.

Her mother’s words echoed in her head.
This won’t end well.

She walked slowly, her senses on full alert, her gaze sweeping the area.

A groan sounded from behind the house.
Zane?

Stevie changed course and dashed to the corner of the cabin, drawing her weapon, keeping it at her side with her finger off the trigger. She stopped, her back against the front of the cabin, took a deep breath, and stole a glance around the corner.

Zane was on his back on the ground, a sledgehammer handle braced protectively in front of his face. Walt stood next to him with a long metal level held above his head, about to bring it down on Zane’s skull.

Stevie whipped around the corner and fired.

Walt froze, staring at Stevie, the level still over his head.

“Put it down, Walt,” Stevie ordered.

“You missed,” said Walt.

“I did,” agreed Stevie. “My instructors would not be happy. But I won’t miss the second time. Put it down.”

Walt looked at Zane and then over at Stevie. “You won’t shoot me.”

“Wanna bet?”

“I wouldn’t take that challenge,” Zane muttered.

“Did you kill JD?” Stevie asked. “And Roy? Were you the one who thought they deserved two bullets in the back of the head?”

Walt sneered. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Enlighten me.” Her finger rested heavily against the trigger. Walt hadn’t put down the level. Her damaged left hand had cramped as she’d cupped her right for the first shot, sending it wide. She’d been lucky Walt froze. According to her training, she should have fired until the threat he presented was gone.

Walt looked away. “It’s none of your business.”

“Did you kill my father?” she whispered.

He gave a short laugh. “No. Wasn’t my place.”

What?

Zane dropped the sledgehammer he’d been bracing above his face. Walt jerked at the movement and whipped his level toward Zane’s head.

Stevie fired.

Stevie rested her head on Zane’s shoulder and stared up at the dark sky. The sun’s last rays had finally disappeared and the fireworks would start at any moment. This final event for Founder’s Day would cap a crazy few days. Simple thankfulness filled her—she was able to sit beside the man she loved and look forward to the next day.

She leaned to the side and kissed him, feeling the odd roughness on his face against her skin.

Zane had five stitches in his chin, three in his ear, and another dozen in his scalp from Walt’s blows with the level yesterday. The ER doctor had pronounced that he had a concussion and sent him home with Stevie to keep an eye on him.

The dog on her lap stirred. Her mother had been waiting with Magic at Stevie’s apartment when she arrived with Zane, claiming the dog would help him heal faster. The dog had slept between them on the bed and spent the rest of the day curled up against Zane. Apart from a splitting headache, Zane claimed he felt fine.

“You’re sure you’re okay with how things went this morning?” Zane asked. The two of them had brought low beach chairs to the park at the river, placing them as close to each other as possible. He kept her hand tight in his, but reached out often to stroke Magic.

“How can I not be okay with being cleared for a shooting?”

“They grilled you pretty hard.”

“I told the truth. You were covered in blood, and he was going in for a final blow.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Stop asking me that!”

The truth was she had no clue how she felt. Walt had died from her shots to his chest.

She’d taken one man’s life but saved Zane’s.

Could she have done anything differently? What if her first shot had hit Walt and made him stand down? What if Zane hadn’t dropped the sledgehammer? She buried her fingers in Magic’s fur.

She had to stop asking
what if
.

It was over.

“You know one of his handguns will be linked to Roy and JD’s shootings,” Zane said. “I’m willing to place a lot of money on it. We’ll know in a few days.”

Stevie nodded against his shoulder. She believed it too. They’d found JD’s clear fingerprints inside Walt’s truck on the passenger door handle. Walt had driven him somewhere, presumably to his death at the rest stop. Seth said they’d found a pair of boots he was certain would match the footprints at JD’s scene.

“He didn’t deny killing them,” Zane said. “We both asked if he killed Bill, and he denied it twice. But he didn’t give a clear answer on Roy and JD. And the bullets from Roy’s body were already tied to that one death at the coast. Someone’s been very busy cleaning house.”

“They haven’t found any drugs at his place,” Stevie added.

“That just shows he had half a brain. He was up to his neck in this drug ring. I can feel it.”

“But what was his role?”

“I don’t know, but he wasn’t at the top. He was on the phone when I woke up, taking orders from someone to kill me. Too bad his last call went to one of those burner cell phones. It’s already been dumped. I hope we find something in his home that leads us to the source.”

Stevie hoped so too. She wanted her quiet town back. She wanted dull work days of chasing cows and helping senior citizens with broken windows.

Not drug deaths.

Shock waves had shot through her core as she saw Zane on the ground with his head bleeding and a killer about to strike. She’d almost lost him.

If he asked her to move in again, she knew what her answer would be. She wanted a home and family with Zane.

“I made a phone call this morning,” Zane said.

She met his gaze in the dim light.

“I called my father.”

Stevie smiled, her heart warming. “Good for you.”

“I asked him to come out for a few days. Told him I need some help on a remodeling project. He’s pretty handy at that sort of thing.”

“And?”

“He sounded surprised but said he’d come next month.” Zane smiled. “You were right as usual.”

“Did you tell him about last night?”

“I might have mentioned it.”

“Did you say you were nearly killed by a level to your brain? That story has now made you notorious in Solitude.”

“No, I mainly talked about the woman I wanted him to meet. I told him I had my fingers crossed that she’d move in with me soon because she was pretty special.”

“Pretty special?”

Fireworks lit up the sky, and cheers rose from the groups of spectators. Zane’s face became visible. Her chest clenched at the love in his eyes. He turned to look at the colors in the sky.

“Spectacularly special.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Photo © 2014 Marti Corn Photography

The Rogue River Novella Series started as an idea proposed to us by our editors at Montlake Romance, so we’d like to thank JoVon Sotak and Kelli Martin for putting the concept of writing a joint project in our heads. Writing is normally a very solitary occupation. This collaboration was a whole new experience for both of us. We discovered that the only thing better than having writer buddies is having one to help you plot murder. On paper, of course.

Kendra Elliot

Melinda Leigh

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photo © 2010
Yuen Lui

Born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, Kendra Elliot has always been a voracious reader, cutting her teeth on classic female sleuths and heroines like Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, and Laura Ingalls before proceeding to devour the works of Stephen King, Diana Gabaldon, and Nora Roberts. She has a degree in journalism from the University of Oregon. A Golden Heart, Daphne du Maurier, and Linda Howard Award of Excellence finalist, Elliot shares her love of suspense in
Hidden
,
Chilled
,
Buried
,
Alone
, and
Vanished
. She lives and writes in the rainy Pacific Northwest with her husband, three daughters, and a Pomeranian, but dreams of living at the beach on Kauai.