On Her Father's Grave (Rogue River #1)(17)

Stevie blinked at the picture and lifted it off the wall. Zane was correct that this one was personal. “You can keep the ones that are of him and coworkers. I’ll take the family pictures.”

“I was surprised Roy left them up. Maybe he didn’t want to change anything.”

Stevie nodded. “He was probably so used to looking at them, he didn’t see them anymore.”

Zane cocked his head and didn’t answer immediately, as if he was thinking carefully about her comment. “Yes, that happens, doesn’t it? Then something new shows up and that’s all you can see.”

Stevie felt a flush start on her neck. “Will you have time to look for those journals? Carly asked about them too.”

“Yes, I’ll get it done.” He didn’t move toward the closet and there was an empty silence again. “Thank your mother again for dinner. I always enjoy it.”

Stevie seized the topic change. “Have you eaten there often?”

Zane nodded. “Your dad invited me at least once a month for most of the five years I’ve lived here. I’ve always enjoyed your family. They’ve missed you.”

This time her flush filled her face, and she looked at the floor. “I know. I feel bad it’s been so long, and I’m glad I won’t miss Mom’s weekly family meals anymore. I’d forgotten how they felt.”

“It’s nice to have a big family,” Zane started. His desk phone rang. Stevie nodded at him as he moved toward the phone, and she slipped out the door.

Dinner last night had been good. She’d lied when she said she’d forgotten how it felt. That exact feeling had been part of the reason she’d packed up and left California. How long had it been since she’d sung with her siblings? They used to sing nonstop. Their mother had made them all learn an instrument or two, but Bruce was the natural. He’d never met an instrument he couldn’t play. Stevie could play the piano, but nothing else. And she could sing.

She loved to sing and knew she was good. She didn’t have an interest in a singing career, but she loved to entertain small groups. In LA she’d done karaoke with friends at the bars, but that was the extent of her need for the stage. To her it was a private gift, not one to force on the world. It was for her own pleasure.

Bruce played the guitar, James the fiddle, and Carly the piano. All of them had good singing voices, but Stevie and Bruce seemed to have received the most blessings in that area.

Stevie exhaled and sat at her desk in the patrol units’ room. Today was Memorial Day. There’d be a parade down the center of town in the afternoon and hopefully not too many wild drunks. So far there’d been no calls. Until Sheila had a call for her to respond to, she wasn’t certain what she should do. In LA she’d have had an area to patrol. In Solitude there was no point in wasting gas driving around the same dozen streets over and over. She knew there was more to be done on Hunter Brandt’s case, but first she needed a direction from Zane. She heard him set down the receiver on his desk phone. Was now a good time to ask? Footsteps told her he was coming her way.

His face was grim as he rounded the corner into the room.

“What happened?” she asked. He looked ready to hit something.

“That was Hank from the medical examiner’s. Guess what he spent part of last night doing?”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Stevie murmured, alarmed by the look on his face.

“Another teen died last night. This time in the city of Coos Bay at the coast.”

Stevie waited, dread creeping up her spine.

“Once again, no outward signs and no obvious reason why he died.”

“What was he doing?” she asked.

“He was home. Alone in his room. His mom stopped by his room to say good night and he didn’t respond. When she looked closer he was dead in his bed.”

“That’s horrible. What does Hank think happened?”

“He’s not certain, but once again he can’t identify a strange substance in this kid’s blood. He’s sending it to the same lab and asking them to compare it to Hunter Brandt’s.”

Stevie had read Hank’s preliminary report about the odd chemical found during Hunter Brandt’s autopsy. “What are these kids taking? Why can’t Hank tell what it is?”

“Good question. I think we need to talk to the teens around here some more. I hope to God there’s not some trendy drug floating around that we’re not aware of.”

Stevie bit her lip. “According to Roy, Solitude doesn’t have drugs. Or at least not a problem with them.”

“What?” Zane looked confused. “Roy said that? When?”

“The night of Hunter’s death.”

Zane snorted. “There’s enough pot grown around here to keep a commune of hippies happy for a decade. Maybe he doesn’t consider that a drug.”

“Any other drugs been turning up?”

“About what you’d expect. Maybe Roy didn’t consider it our problem because it’s not in the city limits, but there is meth use going on outside of town. A bit of coke too. I can think of three meth labs that have blown up since I’ve been here. Out-of-staters moving here to take advantage of the ruralness. They think they can do whatever they please on their property and no one will notice. They find a place that’s outside the city limits and assume the county sheriff won’t have the time or manpower to keep an eye on them. And they’re right. We’ve managed to keep it from coming into town or affecting our kids.”