Death and Her Devotion (Rogue Vows #1)(23)

Zane shook his head as they passed the illegal campers. “I don’t have time to do anything about this.”

“Nope,” Stevie agreed. “I suspect Ralph is right that they’ll leave soon once the glamour wears off.”

“What glamour?”

“Of being close to the location where the famous Chase Ryan died.”

“Is that the trailer?” Zane leaned forward and pointed. Stevie studied the tiny oval silver camper. Airstream trailers always reminded her of the little tin tea set she’d had as a child. She stopped on the dirt road and got out of the SUV, wanting to tap the trailer with something metal to see if it’d make the same noise as her silver cups when she’d clanged them together.

“I don’t see a truck,” Zane said. Spider had told them Cyndee hauled the trailer with a big old truck.

“Looks like she’s not here,” said Stevie, scanning the area. The weight of her bulletproof vest was heavy under her shirt. Kenny hadn’t worn one last summer and had nearly lost his life. Now Zane fined the officers twenty bucks if he caught them outside the department without one on. The area was quiet, the sunlight was fading, and she wondered if the sight of the Solitude police SUV had sent some squatters to hide deeper in the forest.

“Let’s knock.” Zane led her through dusty weeds and grass to a flat area, where the camper sat under some firs.

Cyndee’s trailer had to be the smallest Stevie had ever seen and could win an award for the most dents. On the side they approached, it had one tiny window and a door that looked as if it’d been cut out of the metal with a can opener. A small tank of propane sat behind the hitch.

“This can’t be right,” said Stevie as they stopped a dozen feet from the door. “Cyndee looks like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine each time I see her. She wouldn’t live in something like this.”

“Spider said it was really beat up, and this looks like someone took a baseball bat to it. I think we’re in the right place.”

“Maybe she’s abandoned it.”

Zane cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hello, anyone home?”

A curtain fluttered. Stevie stared at the window, ready to hit the ground if a rifle was pointed her way.

“Cyndee, can you come out for a minute?” Zane asked. “It’s the Solitude Police Department.”

The door slowly opened and a small head peeked out, the inside camper light illuminating her blonde hair. She eyed the cops and then fully opened the door.

Stevie blinked. It wasn’t Cyndee, but it was a miniature carbon copy. She estimated the young girl to be about ten years old. “Hi, are you Cyndee’s daughter?”

“Yes, I’m Alex.” The child was rail thin and wore ripped shorts with a dirty T-shirt. The contrast to her mother’s movie-star polish stunned Stevie.

“Is Cyndee here?” Zane asked. He sounded as startled as Stevie felt.

The last thing she’d expected was to learn was that self-centered Cyndee had a child.

“No, have you seen her?” Alex asked. “She left early this morning to get milk and hasn’t been back.”

“She’s been gone all day?” Concern shot up Stevie’s spine. It was nearly nine o’clock. “Did you call her?”

“She left her phone here. We just have the one.”

“Where’s your father?” asked Zane.

“Don’t have one.” Alex shrugged with one very skinny shoulder. Stevie could see her bones shift under her shirt. “Do you have anything to eat? I’m kind of hungry.”

“Zane, can you grab a granola bar out of the truck?” Stevie was dismayed by the child’s condition. “Can I see the inside of your camper?” Stevie asked Alex. She wanted to assess the food situation. As officers they had every right to enter a private dwelling if a child appeared to be in bad circumstances. She was five seconds away from calling her social worker sister.

“It’s sort of a mess,” Alex said as she backed out of Stevie’s way. “I was supposed to clean, but I was too tired.”

“Is it normal for your mom to be gone all day?” Stevie stepped up into the camper and automatically dipped her head as she entered the tight space.

The child looked thoughtful. “Not really. Usually she’s only gone an hour or two. Depends how far away we camp from stores. We must be far this time.”

It’s just a few miles down the road.

She opened the fridge. Beer. Water. A dark slimy bag of salad mix and condiments.

Not what she wanted to see left behind for a child. She quickly snooped through the few cupboards. No crackers, no cereal. Just a few cans of vegetables and broth. Not the sort of thing a child would bother to open.

Zane appeared and handed Alex two granola bars. Her eyes lit up and she immediately ripped one open.

Stevie’s heart cracked, and she exchanged a look with Zane. “There’s not much to eat.”

“Call your sister,” he ordered.

She pulled out her phone, but her attention was caught by an image taped to the wall above the small bed at the far end of the trailer. Chase Ryan. The photo appeared to have been ripped out of a magazine. There was a large black X across his face. Stevie moved closer. The entire wall was papered with images of the TV star’s face. Each one was inked with the black X. A few photos showed different women as his companions. Stevie couldn’t see the women’s faces because they were obliterated with black ink.