Her Grave Secrets (Rogue River Novella Book 3) (7 page)

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.”

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?”

“There’s more.”

“What?”

“A lot of purchases were made on the credit cards at the casinos at the coast. Looks like he started staying there several weekends a month.”

“That’s where he was going? When he said he needed some time off? Was he gambling?”

“I made some inquiries. The casino hotel front desk people knew him really well. Said he was always upbeat and friendly. They considered him a good customer. Claimed he liked craps.”

“I’ve never heard him talk about the casinos. I’ll have to ask Mom if he mentioned it to her.”

“There aren’t any cash advances or ATM withdrawals at the casinos. He must have been gambling with more cash, but he needed to use the credit cards for the room. When I saw the charges I’d hoped that he was simply spending some time on the coast, maybe seeing some live music at the hotel, but since you found all that cash in addition to the conversations I had with the employees, he was definitely gambling. A lot.”

“How did he hide this from everyone?”

“I’ve asked myself that over and over. I saw him almost every day. I had no idea any of this was going on.”

“Ladies and gentlemen! Please stand for our national anthem!”

Stevie glanced back to the ring, where the announcer was handing his microphone to a small girl. She squinted. “Is that Brianna?”

“Damned right it is. You didn’t know Brianna was going to sing the anthem?” Zane removed his cap.

“No! Carly didn’t say a word.” She strode over to the rail, grabbing a free spot to get a clear view of her niece. Brianna’s sweet voice came through the speakers. It quivered momentarily, but she got her courage up and pushed through.

“Go, sweetheart!” Stevie whispered. “She’s really good,” she said to Zane.

He nodded, his gaze locked on Brianna.

Stevie held her breath as the childish voice soared through the rocket’s red glare, perfectly nailing every note and drawing cheers from the crowd. “She did it! Carly’s going to be so proud!”

“Good genes,” said Zane. “Glad to see it was passed to the next generation.” He put his cap back on as the crowd gave Brianna a standing ovation.

She gave a deep curtsy, grinning at the attention, clearly enjoying the spotlight.

Stevie’s heart wanted to burst with pride. She wiped at a tear. “I hope my mom caught that performance.”

“I’m sure she’s here. The whole town is here. Look at the stands.”

The risers were packed. Solitude liked nothing better than a town celebration.

“Thank you, Brianna Harding! Let’s give her another hand, folks!”

Stevie clapped until her hands stung.

“Everyone ready for a rodeo?”
Deafening cheers rose from the stands.
“But first, let’s remember why we’re celebrating here today.”

Stevie knew what was next. She’d been hearing the story since she could walk and every announcer told it before the rodeo started.

“About a hundred and fifty years ago, there was a fine Irish family that lived on the coast. They were hardworking people and they had a heck of a lot of kids.”

Hoots sounded from the audience.

“Now, the Irish loved their big families, but one of the Irish sons decided he’d had enough. He was tired of sharing everything with his brothers. Way back then they piled as many kids into a bed as they could, and they shared the water in the tub for their weekly baths. The parents washed first and then each kid got a turn in the used bathwater. By the time the youngest kid got a bath, the water wasn’t very clean anymore.”

More shouts and laughter.

“So one day this son left. He packed his bag, kissed his mama, and set off on his own pony. He was eighteen years old and had been considered a man for a long time. It was time to find a place where he could plant his own roots. He rode east from the coast, following our Rogue River for several days until he came to a crest that overlooked the water. He took off his horse’s bridle, caught some fish, and relaxed in a grassy spot, enjoying the silent woods. And do you know what he said?”

A series of incomprehensible shouts went up from the crowd. They’d all heard the story.

“That’s right! He looked up at the sky and said, ‘Thank you, Lord, for bringing me to this piece of solitude.’ And he built his first cabin on that spot. That young O’Rourke boy stuck out the first wet winter all by his lonesome and eventually persuaded a young woman to come live with him in his newfound solitude and raise a family. You all know we still have a strong line of O’Rourkes here today who’ve continued to call Solitude home. Where are you guys?”

Stevie saw Faye stand up and wave a hand while the audience cheered. She spotted Katelyn O’Rourke a few rows behind Faye, and wondered if her three brothers had come to town for the celebration. Faye’s sons had moved away from Solitude, not willing to embrace their family roots over their desire for solid employment.

“Fucking bitch.” Someone slurred the words to Stevie’s left. She whirled and discovered Alex Rollins had picked the spot beside her against the fence. His hair was too long and in need of shampoo, and it appeared that his face hadn’t seen a razor in several days. The alcohol fumes along with his sour breath made her take a step back into Zane. Alex’s gaze was focused across the ring on Faye.

She couldn’t believe this was the same man she’d seen two months ago when he brought his son in for an interview related to the teen death at the lake. Alex Rollins had been a clean-cut father concerned about his son. Now he looked like he’d been living on the streets of LA for a few weeks.

“Alex,” Zane said. “Watch the language, please.”

Alex turned bleary eyes to Zane. “I can fucking say whatever I want. Free country. That bitch fired me. She’s told everyone in town I did crappy work at her precious hotel. Wasn’t true. I’m good at what I do. She didn’t even give me a chance, she just sent that asshole Burrowes to tell me not to come back to work one day.”

He glared across the ring again, not seeing the court gallop around the ring with their flags streaming behind them. Stevie stepped back as the horses pounded past them.

“No explanation other than I wasn’t up to their snooty standards. Now I can’t get anyone to hire me. I used to have the best reputation for custom cabinetry in Rogue County! People always called me first. Now I don’t get a chance to bid on a job.” Bitterness flowed from his tone as he swayed against the fence.

Stevie glanced at Zane, who shrugged. Alex was right, he could curse all he wanted; but now he’d triggered Zane’s close attention, making him watch for any signs that Alex needed to sleep off his drunk in a holding cell. There was always
somebody
who drank too much and caused a ruckus at every public event. Would it be Alex tonight?

“Is Peter here?” Stevie asked.

“Somewhere with his friends,” Alex slurred. “
My
friends are avoiding me. Jerks.”

“Maybe because you’re drinking too much,” said Zane.

Angry eyes looked at Zane, but Stevie noticed Alex had enough wits about him not to insult the police chief.