On Her Father's Grave (Rogue River Novella Book 1) (3 page)

“Fifteen,” Ted spit out. “Full of piss. Little punk-ass was trying to take my bat away.” He looked at Stevie with crazy eyes. “Just because I haven’t worked in a while, Goddamned Loretta thinks she can do whatever she wants and stay out until two in the morning. I’ll show her—”

“Shut up,” Zane said calmly, cutting off Ted’s tirade. “Put him in the holding cell until he’s sober enough to speak with a little respect.”

Kenny nodded and hauled Ted down a second hallway.

“Know him?” Zane asked.

Stevie shrugged. “Looks familiar. What’s the last name?”

“Warner.”

A faint bell clanged somewhere in her memory. “I didn’t know him very well. Maybe one of my brothers did. Between the four of us, usually one of us knows everyone.”

“Is that a good thing?” Zane asked.

Stevie started to laugh but saw he was totally serious. His dark brows had pulled together as he questioned her.

“A good thing to know everyone? Yes and no. Truthfully, I missed seeing familiar faces every day. But in Solitude it’s a bit of overload if you grew up here. I couldn’t wait to get out of town.”

“But now you’re back.” Zane didn’t phrase it as a question, but she saw the curiosity in his eyes.

“Yes, I am.” She didn’t elaborate.

Small Town Rule #1: Share secrets only when you want the entire town to know.

She didn’t know Zane. So far he seemed solid, and Roy must think well of him to have had him take over.

He was a big guy—several inches over six feet—and clean-cut. His hands were wide and calloused, with a few scars, and his knuckles looked like he’d scraped them on something rough a dozen times. Someone’s face?

Zane’s smile was slow, like he had to think something over before he decided if it was worth his amusement. But when he did smile, it felt like warm honey flowed over her skin.

Clanging alarms went off in her head.

She’d fallen for the hot cop before. It wasn’t going to happen again.

The front of the small police station suddenly felt too small, as if all the walls had moved in several feet. Zane was still looking expectantly at her.

“I missed my family,” Stevie blurted. “I missed tall fir trees, clean rivers, and icy-cold mornings that hinted at snow.”

Where did that come from?

“But those mornings rarely deliver on actual snow,” Zane finished for her.

She smiled. “Obviously you’ve spent enough time in Solitude to experience the yearly tease of the snow.”

“I’m from eastern Oregon,” Zane answered. “We get real snow there. I don’t miss measuring the snowfall in feet, but I’d like to occasionally get something more than a few flurries. A little less rain wouldn’t hurt either.”

“Amen,” agreed Stevie. The tension in the room lessened a bit. That’s what talking about the weather will do. “Do you go—”

A teenage boy and his father came through the front door. The boy looked slightly green, very rumpled, and extremely unhappy. He didn’t meet Stevie’s eyes as she sized him up.

“Morning, Zane. Miss.” The father touched the brim of his ball cap and nodded at Stevie.

“Alex. How’re you doing?” answered Zane. “This is Stevie Taylor. Newest addition to Solitude’s force.” He eyed the teen. “Looking a little green there, Peter.”

The teen shrugged his shoulders, still not making eye contact, and his father poked him between the shoulder blades. “Morning, sir. Ma’am,” the boy muttered.

Stevie pressed her lips together, wondering if this was the boy’s first hangover. She noticed that Alex grinned a little bit, enjoying his son’s discomfort.

“Roy told me last night to bring Peter down for an interview,” said Alex. “Seemed to think he might want to talk to him a little more. I figured the earlier the better.” This time Alex gave a big smile.

Stevie’s dad would have done the same thing. No sleeping in if she’d indulged in underage drinking. He would have made her clean out the horse stalls at five a.m. if she’d come home drunk.

When your dad was a cop in a small town, you didn’t get away with anything.

“Roy’s not in this morning,” Zane said. “Stevie and I’ll talk to Peter.”

Stevie gave him a sharp look, but kept her mouth shut. Roy’s quitting must not be public knowledge yet.

She followed the men to a small interview room. The only interview room. It also doubled as the coffee break room, city council meeting room, lunchroom, and storage room. Stevie winced at the wood-paneled walls and ancient folding chairs around the beat-up table. Would it be wrong to do a bit of office remodeling on her days off? She couldn’t bear to work in a place that made her depressed.

An old eight-by-ten photo of her dad, Roy, and two other cops who’d retired hung on a fake-wood wall. She stopped in front of it, trying to remember the other cops’ names. It had to be nearly thirty years old. Her dad looked young and fit and handsome.

Invincible.

Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes, and she brushed at the heavy layer of dust on the top of the simple frame.

Donotcrydonotcrydonotcry.

Who would have dreamed that a simple heart attack would take down a vibrant and powerful man like her father? If only he hadn’t been alone . . .

Donotcrydonotcrydonotcry.

She sucked in a breath and turned away from the wall to find the two men and the teen staring at her. Sympathy flooded Zane’s gaze, and understanding clicked on Alex’s face; he’d placed her name. Peter simply looked ill. She gave a nervous smile. “Let’s get started, okay?”

Peter slumped into a chair, looking as happy as an unprepared teen about to take a calculus test. Zane and Alex stood. Stevie blinked at them and then realized they were waiting for her to sit first.

You’re not in LA anymore.

She quickly sat, the quaint courtesy making her eyes prickle again. Zane slid her a page of notes that turned out to be Kenny’s scribbling from the night before, with Peter’s name at the top. Zane raised a brow at her and nodded, silently handing over the start of the interview. She scanned the notes, squinting here and there at Kenny’s cramped printing. She dug out her own notebook, welcoming the comfort of the pen and paper in her hand, and calming the emotions of the moment before.

Zane sat back and listened as Stevie efficiently questioned the queasy teen. For a moment he’d thought she was going to leave the room after seeing the picture of her father on the wall. Instead she’d pulled it together and gotten to work.

Today was his first day back at work since Bill’s death. He’d asked Roy if he should cut his vacation short when he’d heard the crushing news, but Roy had assured him they were fine. Zane had experienced a moment of pure wrongness when he’d first sat in Bill’s chair, but it’d quickly vanished as he focused on the notes from Hunter’s death.

Hell, he hadn’t even worked with Roy during his short-lived stint in the chief’s position. Zane was still at a loss over his boss’s death. Bill had been a leather-tough cop with a big mushy center. He’d been fearless of any asshole with a weapon but worried about being home in time for dinner. He’d worshipped his wife, Patsy, and hated to disappoint her in any way.

He’d been a good role model for Zane, whose father had been more interested in farming than in talking to his sons and wife.

Zane quietly studied Stevie as she questioned the teen. He could see Bill’s mannerism in the tilt of her head as she talked. The cadence of her speech was definitely Patsy’s. Along with the curly hair and wide mouth.

“He said there was a swarm of spiders crawling across the lake at one point,” Peter stated.

Zane’s ears perked up.
Spiders?

Stevie tilted her head in slight confusion. “Did you see spiders?”

“Naw. Us guys looked where Hunter was pointing but there was nothing there. He was just giving us shit. Um, sorry, ma’am.” Peter looked down at his hands as Zane exchanged an amused glance with Alex.

“So he was joking about spiders?” Stevie asked.

Peter twisted his lips. “I don’t know. He acted freaked out. Said they were moving toward him and ran off like his feet were about to get bit. We were pretty close to the water, but I didn’t see anything.”

Stevie made a note. “You said he seemed drunk?”

“Yeah, a while before he collapsed he kept losing his balance. He also was saying stupid things like the trees were starting to melt.”

She made another note. “Anything being passed around at school? Party drugs? Painkillers from someone’s parents’ medicine cabinet?” She smiled at Peter. “We know it happens.”

Peter looked down at the table, his shoulders drooping. “Not that I heard about. Not last night.”

“You cut out of the loop, Peter? Your so-called buddies don’t like to share with you? What’d you do to them?”

Zane winced.
One point for the female who knows how to poke at a teenage male’s pride.

“Nothin’.” Peter shot a sideways glace at his father. “They know I’d get my ass kicked if I got caught with anything.”

“Damn right,” said Alex. He looked at Zane and Stevie. “I pay attention. He gets grilled every time he comes home from a late evening. If I smell pot or beer, he’s a dead man. And sometimes I pop in where he says he’s gonna be. Doesn’t matter if it’s a friend’s house or the pizza place.”

Peter’s shoulders drooped further.

“What’s popular to use these days, Peter?” Stevie asked. “Bring me up to date. I haven’t been in high school in thirteen years. Educate me.”

The boy shrugged again. “Pot. Beer. Whatever booze someone can get. Vodka or tequila, I guess.”

“What about pills? Stronger stuff?” Zane added.

“I don’t know.”

The adults looked at each other and then at the teen. And waited.

“I don’t know!” Peter looked up, making eye contact with Stevie and then Zane. His words emphasized by the widest gaze he could manage. Zane didn’t believe him.

“What do you hear from kids in other schools? What’s being passed around in their schools?” Stevie asked, her question telling Zane she didn’t believe Peter either. He admired the way she asked the same question but moved the location. Peter might feel safer talking about drug use outside his home territory.

Peter slouched back in his chair, his demeanor calmer. “There were some guys from the coast bragging about something new they had. They were at the lake a few weeks back. They were a bunch of jerks and were probably making it up.”

Stevie smiled and made a quick notation. “We always hated the kids from the coast high schools too. They didn’t seem to realize that living on the Oregon Coast wasn’t as prestigious as living in Malibu.”

Peter looked at her with sudden interest. “You lived in LA, right? Was it totally great?”

Even when you’ve been gone as long as I have, everyone still knows your business.

Zane saw Stevie bite her lip, fighting back a grin. “It’s not as great as it seems on TV. Lots of traffic and it’s expensive.”

Peter sighed. “I wouldn’t mind. I want to make movies.”

Stevie changed the subject. “How good of friends were you with Hunter? You know of anything going on with him? How were his grades? He get along with his parents?”

Another shrug. “I know him as well as anyone. His grades are decent. He was upset no one offered him a football scholarship. And his grades weren’t good enough to get him any scholarship money either. He was going to try to walk on at Oregon State next fall. I don’t know of any problems with his parents.”

“Girlfriend?” Zane asked.

“He and Grace Ellis have been a couple since March or so. I think he was going to break up with her before he left for college. He said he wanted to keep her handy until . . .” The boy’s face reddened. “I mean . . . you know . . . since it’s nearly summer.”

Zane shifted in his chair, watching for Stevie’s reaction. Pretty typical teenage male mentality. Hang on to the girl as long as he was getting what he needed physically.

Stevie’s face showed no reaction. “I see what you’re saying.”

The door to the lunchroom/interview room opened. Solitude’s mayor, who happened to be Stevie’s oldest brother, stuck his head in. James Taylor bore no resemblance to his gangly musical namesake. Instead he was a rugged carbon copy of Bill Taylor from thirty years before.

“Whoops. Sorry, guys.” James nodded at the group. “Hey Alex, Peter. How’s it going? Zane, can I talk with you a minute?” James looked at his sister. “Doing okay, Stevie? I’ll see you tonight, right?”

That was part of the reason James Taylor was the mayor of Solitude. He knew everyone by name. Even the kids. And he could talk and relate to each one of them. He wasn’t a bullshitter. He actually listened and cared about what people had to say. This morning he looked red-eyed and stressed. No doubt everyone did after last night’s tragedy.

“Tonight?” Stevie asked.

“Dinner. Mom’s,” James replied. “Miss it and you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“That’s right. I’ll be there.”

Zane lifted a brow at her as he started to get out of his chair. Stevie nodded. She was fine without him for a while. Zane stepped out of the room and closed the door.

“What’s up, James?” He folded his arms across his chest, wondering what had brought James into the station. His mayoral office was one of a few in a small building attached to the side of the police station. Basically it was a closet with a desk, a landline, and an ancient computer. Not a lot different from the rest of the station.