Dead in Her Tracks (Rogue Winter #2)(21)

“Did you know there’s a pill you can take that gets rid of your withdrawal symptoms, Jake?” Stevie asked. “Make the headache and shakes and nausea go away. How’s that sound to you right now?”

Hopeful eyes looked at Zane. “That true?”

The man looked miserably sick, and Stevie had nailed it that he was in withdrawal. “How long since your supply ran out, Jake?”

“A few days.”

“Bob kept you in oxy?” Zane asked calmly.

“Yeah, took away my appetite. People started noticing I was losing weight.” Jake’s head hung over his coffee like he wanted to dive into the cup, drown in the caffeine. “He didn’t sell it. He didn’t need to.”

“What do you mean he didn’t need to? Where’d his cash come from?”

“The bar makes lots of money. He just used the oxy for himself . . . and gave some to me.”

“For free?”

“He never charged me.”

“How long had he been giving it to you?”

Jake chewed on his lip. “Must be about two years now.”

Zane looked at Stevie. How did a drug dealer make money if he gave away his product for two years? Jake had to be mistaken. Or lying. Although he seemed to be a pretty lousy liar.

Zane pulled out the picture of the two missing Medford women. “Seen these two in the bar?”

Jake blinked and struggled to focus on the picture. “Pretty.”

“Very,” said Zane. “But no one’s seen them for months. Do they look familiar?”

“Dunno.”

“Did you ever see Bob leave with a woman?” Stevie tried a different tack. “Was he able to get them to go home with him very often?”

Jake’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah. He was the best. He said women liked the tough-guy look.” He pulled up his sleeve to show a tattoo on his forearm. “He said tattoos always work on the women.” His tattoo read Only the strong servive.

Zane hoped Jake hadn’t paid too much for it.

Stevie averted her eyes from the tattoo and make a small choking noise. “So Bob was popular with the ladies,” she managed to say. But you don’t recognize these two in the pictures.”

Jake looked again. “No. We mostly get truckers in here.” He squinted at the paper. “The one on the left might have been in here before. I can’t remember. When women came in Bob tried to get them to sit at this end of the bar where it’s quieter, and he could keep an eye on them. He didn’t want the truckers harassing them.”

“Isn’t that nice,” Stevie said under her breath.

“Did Bob have a fishing or hunting cabin he liked to use?” Zane asked. “Or do you know of any outbuildings where he might have stored some of his equipment?”

Jake scowled. “What kind of equipment?”

“I don’t know, anything, like a boat or quad.”

“You’re looking for a place where he killed these women.” Jake pointed at the photos. “I’m telling you, he didn’t do it! He didn’t have a boat to store, and he didn’t hunt.”

“No one knew him better than you,” Stevie cajoled. “What about Samantha Lyle? Do you remember her?”

“I knew her. I remember everyone said she left town after her fight with her boyfriend.”

“Did you see her the night she left? They’d been here in the bar.”

Zane let Stevie continue asking the questions. Jake looked at her with puppy-dog eyes, having apparently forgotten about her boot to his balls the other night. With Zane he bristled and got defensive every time Zane spoke.

“I didn’t see them that night. I was off. Just because she’s gone doesn’t mean she was murdered. She could be living in New York City for all we know. Everyone’s trying to make Bob look bad.”

Bob did that himself. “We’re just looking for answers.” Zane exchanged a glance with Stevie. He was tired of hearing Jake sing Bob’s praises.

“If you’re trying to find some answers, why aren’t you looking for who killed Bob? All anyone cares about is that woman in the hotel room. She wasn’t even from around here. Bob lives in Solitude, and you haven’t said a word about his murder.”

“That investigation is ongoing too, Jake,” said Zane with a small pang of guilt. “We’re looking into both at the same time.”

“It sure doesn’t seem like it. When are you going to arrest someone?”

“When the time is right.”

“Fuck off,” said Jake. “Go eat some doughnuts. You guys don’t care about anything.” He turned his back to them, clearly finished with being cooperative.

Zane was done too.

“Make an appointment with your doctor, Jake. Maybe he’ll prescribe something to help you get over the oxy.” Zane headed out of the bar, ready to breathe some fresh air. “You’re going to be feeling like hell for quite a while.”

They stepped out the door and Zane looked at Stevie. “Does it make me a bad guy that I feel like I’m not searching as hard for Bob’s killer as I am for Vanessa’s?”

Stevie took his hand, smiling sadly. “I think it makes you human. We’re focused just as hard on Bob’s killer.”