Dead in Her Tracks (Rogue Winter #2)(11)

Stevie wasn’t surprised. News traveled fast in Solitude. Stevie kicked her boots at the cinder block steps, knocking off the snow. “Can I come in for a few minutes? This won’t take long.”

Dana stepped back, making room for Stevie to squeeze by into the claustrophobic space. Tony sat at a small dinette table, eating breakfast, and the smell of bacon and eggs made Stevie’s stomach rumble. The small mobile home was cold. Both Tony and Dana wore thick bathrobes over their clothing, and Stevie was thankful for her heavy police coat. Tony gave her the evil eye over his hunting magazine as he shoved another bite of eggs in his mouth.

“I hear someone delivered justice for Amber Lynn,” he said as he chewed. “Some people don’t believe in waiting around for the cops and courts. They let everyone off anyway.”

Stevie lifted her chin. “Any idea who this caped crusader is?” She held Tony’s gaze.

He grinned at her, and she saw eggs. “You cops want to put away the hero? Isn’t that how it always goes. The good guy gets in trouble.”

“We have a justice system for a reason,” Stevie argued, knowing she was talking to a wall. “We can’t let the population deliver punishment on a whim. There’s a process.”

“I know your process,” Tony said. “Your process has our granddaughter—Dana’s only kin—living with some stranger.”

Stevie glanced back at Dana, who stared at the floor, one hand pressed against her abdomen while the other tapped her cigarette in a tray. She didn’t appear upset that she didn’t have custody of young Charlotte. She worked full-time and already had one mooching mouth to feed.

“It looks like Charlotte will live with her paternal uncle. But I’m here to talk about Bob Fletcher.” She smiled at Tony. “Any chance you were wearing your cape near the police station Christmas morning?”

Behind Stevie, Dana snorted. Tony set down his fork and chortled. “I didn’t kill Bob Fletcher. Hell, I was at church Christmas morning. We went to the first and second services. We didn’t finish up until one o’clock.”

Small Town Rule #4: Everyone goes to church on Christmas and Easter. Even the *s.

“He’s telling the truth,” said Dana. “I was on the flower committee for that day.”

“So we’re looking for someone who skipped church that morning,” Stevie said lightly. She’d originally been amused by Tony’s statement, but now she wondered if it was an angle they should look at. A good nine-tenths of the town must have been at some sort of service that morning, but it was a moot point if their killer wasn’t local.

“Know any sinners I should be questioning?” she asked Tony.

“Lots of them. But I saw them at church too.”

She turned and handed Dana a card. “Call us if you think of anything.”

Dana followed her out the door and down the steps, pulling her robe tight against the wind. “Thank you for handling him. I was afraid you’d put him in a bad mood.”

“I know how to handle his type. I try to keep them smiling the whole time.”

“Hard to do day in, day out.” The tired-looking woman sighed.

“If you ever need—”

“Stop right there,” Dana ordered, pointing at Stevie with her cigarette. “Your sister gave me the same lecture. I’m not stupid.”

Stevie bit her tongue, knowing the woman needed to come to her own decision.

Shrewd eyes studied Stevie. “When are you going to marry that police chief of yours? I heard you haven’t even given up your apartment yet. I don’t know what you’re waiting for. In a tiny town like this, you’re not going to find many good ones like I did.” She jerked her head at the window of her home and inhaled on her cigarette, giving Stevie a wink, sharing a womanly bonding moment.

Stevie was speechless as she mentally compared Zane to Tony. She pulled up the hood of her heavy coat. “Merry Christmas, Dana. And I’m very sorry for your loss.”

She climbed in her vehicle, suddenly needing to feel Zane’s arms around her.





CHAPTER SIX





His energy restored with a jump-start from Nell’s espresso, Zane returned to the Wayside Motel. He spotted Charlie watching him from the window of the lobby and decided to see if the manager had any gossip to share about his customers.

“I hear you’re steering business away from me, Zane,” Charlie complained the second Zane stepped in the door.

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That family from out of town. The Phillipses. I heard they were told to go stay at Dixie’s. Everyone knows Dixie doesn’t take customers during the winter months.” He scowled.

Zane halted. “Seriously, Charlie? You wanted them to stay in the same motel where their daughter was murdered? Don’t you have any feelings?”

“She wasn’t murdered here. I heard what the examiner said. Just because she was found here, doesn’t mean you need to be scaring away my customers by telling them someone was killed here. She could have been killed anywhere.”

“For f*ck’s sake, Charlie. Their daughter died. Grow a heart and put yourself in their situation.”

“It’s hurting business.” He glared and Zane noticed his comb-over looked extra thin today.