Her Grave Secrets (Rogue River #3)(4)

“Let’s check the outbuilding.”

Zane opened the slider and stood back. As Stevie walked through, his hand lingered at her waist. Because of her bulletproof vest she felt the pressure but not the touch of his fingers, and she smiled at him. Skin crinkled at the corners of his eyes and her heartbeat briefly skidded, in spite of the sad surroundings.

How lucky am I?

Working together had turned out to be a positive thing. They meshed well. Zane was a smart cop and a natural leader, and Stevie was proud to serve with him. At the office they kept it business as usual; when she stayed at his cabin in the woods, it was anything but professional.

She sucked in a breath of the fresh air, feeling like the stale odor of the house clung to her hair and uniform. They strolled the fifty feet toward the big utility shed.

“You’re going to help out at Mom’s barbecue on Founder’s Day, right?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it. Patsy put me in charge of the smoker last year. That’s a heavy responsibility at an institution like her celebration. I haven’t heard what chore she’s assigned me this year.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it an institution.” Stevie smiled. “Mom and Dad always took any excuse to invite half the town over to feed them. Mom’s happiest when she’s surrounded by hungry people.”

“Or animals,” Zane added.

“That too,” said Stevie, thinking of the menagerie in her mother’s barn. If it was hurt, lost, or lonely, her mother adopted it. She had a soft heart and a knack for providing refuge for all those down on their luck. Stevie smiled, thinking of her sister, Carly, who’d moved into the guesthouse on her parents’ property after her marriage went south. Carly and her daughter, Brianna, had provided her mother with some much-needed company after the death of her father in May.

“Have you gone to the Founder’s Day rodeo before?” Stevie asked.

Zane raised a brow at her. “Of course. How can you live in Solitude and not go to the rodeo? That’d be a sin.”

“And you’d hear about your absence from everyone in town until the following year.”

“Or longer.”

They stopped at the big shed, momentarily stumped by the chain and padlock. “You circle around, see if there’s another way in,” Zane directed. “I’ll get the cutters from the car.”

Stevie did a quick trip around the shed. No windows; no doors. Zane reappeared with a flashlight and bolt cutters that looked like they could cut a chain as thick as her thigh. He snapped the chain and pulled it off. He pushed the rolling door to one side and let the light into the big shed.

“Hello, beautiful,” Zane said to the boat. “You seen this?” he asked Stevie.

She shook her head, dumbfounded at the expensive boat in Roy’s shed. “What happened to that beat-up old thing he always hauled out for fishing?” This boat looked straight from the showroom floor and was mounted on a trailer to match. “When did he get that?”

“I’ve only seen the old one. I haven’t fished with Roy since last fall, and he didn’t have this back then.”

Stevie blew at the dust on top of the boat. “It looks like it’s never seen the water. It’s a shame to have it closed up in here.”

“Maybe he bought it for his retirement.”

“Could be.” She held out her hand for Zane’s flashlight and flicked it on as she walked to the back of the boat, more and more convinced it’d never been wet. “Holy cow, look at this!” She shone the light toward the back of the shed. Two WaveRunners sat on a double trailer, ready to head out for a trip to the lake. “Zane, did you know he had these?”

“No.”

The grim tone of his voice made Stevie turn and look at him. “What is it?”

“Where’d this stuff come from? Roy’s told me a dozen times how financially strapped he was. I was surprised when he said he was retiring because he’d always told me he’d have to work until he keeled over in his uniform.”

“Money problems?” Stevie’s heart sank. She’d been out of touch with Roy while she was in LA, but she’d never stopped caring. “So this isn’t at all what you expected to see in here.”

“Hell, no. And I don’t like it.”

“Let’s check out the storage.” Stevie pulled open the nearest huge cabinet door and stared at enough fishing rods for a Boy Scout troop. “I’m starting to understand why the chain on the door was so thick.”

Zane opened another door. “Decoys. For every type of waterfowl hunting possible. And camping equipment.”

“It’s starting to look like a Cabela’s outdoor store in here,” Stevie muttered. “And it all looks relatively new.”

“Damn it.”

“Stealing this equipment can’t be the motivation for his murder,” Stevie pointed out. “It’s still here.”

“Maybe we don’t know what’s gone missing. Maybe the killer already cleared out half the stuff.”

“But where’d Roy get the money to buy it all? You thought he was too broke to retire.”

“That might be our murder motivation right there.”

The hair on Stevie’s neck stood up.

Roy, what did you get into?