Her Grave Secrets (Rogue River #3)(6)

“His absence didn’t make sense,” agreed Stevie.

“Your father was concerned about him. He mentioned it in the May journal.”

Stevie nodded, remembering that Zane had held on to her father’s last journal because he had concerns about some of the subjects it dealt with—one of them being Roy’s behavior. “I’m glad Zane finally found that one to give to you.”

Wise brown eyes held Stevie’s gaze. “I know Zane purposefully held on to it longer.”

Stevie blushed and took another bite of beignet.

“I assumed Zane read everything before handing the journals over to me. He’s a cop to the core and had to step into Bill’s shoes. Plus, what better way to get insight into your father’s concerns than to read his journals?” Her mother gave her an understanding smile. “Bill had mentioned that Roy was taking a lot of time off and didn’t have good explanations for why. He let it slide because Roy was his closest friend and figured he’d eventually tell him the reasons. He brought it up to me several times.”

“He did? You already knew something was up with Roy?” Stevie’s mental alarm went off. “What did he say to you?”

“No more than that. He could tell Roy was struggling with something. Bill wasn’t one to pry.”

Stevie’s shoulders drooped. “Whatever it was may have gotten him killed. Did you know anything about Roy’s finances?”

“He asked your father for a raise after the beginning of the year. Bill gave him a small one; he wanted to do more, but it just wasn’t in the budget. Roy always said he’d work through retirement because he didn’t know what else he’d do with himself. He claimed he was afraid he’d be bored, but I knew there were financial concerns.”

“Did you know there’s a brand-new boat and pair of WaveRunners in Roy’s shed?” Stevie pressed her lips together, watching her mother closely.

Patsy jerked her coffee cup, slopping coffee onto the counter. She turned and grabbed a cloth before she spoke. Stevie watched surprise and then concern wrinkle her mother’s forehead. “There’s no way,” Patsy said flatly. “They can’t be his.”

“Why are you so certain?”

Patsy wiped at the spilled-coffee spot for the third time, not looking Stevie in the eye. “Because we loaned him money in January. He’d gotten into a tight spot with his mortgage.”

Dread shot through her spine. Roy had been in serious financial trouble. “You’ve always lectured us kids to not loan money to friends. That’s what banks are for.”

“He’d gone to the bank. He had nowhere else to turn,” Patsy whispered. “Bill knew we’d probably never see the money again. We didn’t care. We had some to spare, and he seemed so desperate.” She looked ready to cry.

“Is this why you weren’t more vocal about his disappearance in May? You thought he’d run away because of financial issues?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“I’m sorry too.” Calmer eyes looked at Stevie. “Now find the bastard who shot him and make him pay.”



At his desk Zane read the e-mail from the medical examiner. And then read it again.

Patsy was right.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and he waited for Stevie to push open his door. He knew the sound of her steps. She walked with attitude and purpose. The admin, Sheila, strolled like she was window-shopping, Kenny moved silently and always surprised the crap out of Zane, while Carter sounded like he was tripping over his own feet.

Stevie came through his half-open door.

How will she take this news?

Their gazes met. “What’s wrong?” they asked each other simultaneously.

“You first,” Stevie said, shoving her hands into her pockets and planting her feet. “Mine can wait a minute.”

Zane stood and came around the desk. Her eyes widened as she took in his expression, and she glanced back at the door, checking for observers. Zane didn’t give a hoot who saw them right now. He put his hands on her shoulders, struggling to figure out how to communicate what he’d just learned from the ME.

“You know how we asked the medical examiner to test the tissue samples he’d kept from your father’s autopsy?”

She nodded, a jerky tense movement.

“They found a compound nearly identical to C-22.”

He felt her deflate under his hands. “What?” Her voice cracked. “Now? They didn’t find it until now?”

“Your father’s death wasn’t the least bit suspicious. Everything pointed to a heart attack, and Hank treated it as such. He had to run special tests to find this compound in your father’s system.”

Stevie wrenched out of his hands and turned away. She walked over to a picture of Bill Taylor on the wall and stopped, reaching out with a tentative finger to touch the image of her father in his police chief uniform. Zane and Roy were also in the photo, taken three years ago at a small office party for Sheila’s fiftieth birthday. “My mother was right,” she said softly. “She knew his death came too early.”

Zane didn’t know what to say. Patsy often made unusual predictions or comments, and people in town took them very seriously. When she’d asked Zane to take another look at Bill’s death, he’d believed she was making the request out of grief and denial. He wanted Stevie to turn around but knew she wasn’t ready, so Zane settled for studying her long curly ponytail. It quivered slightly as she spoke, and he ached to tuck the one loose tendril behind her ear.