On Her Father's Grave (Rogue River #1)(23)

Zane stroked his chin. Stevie didn’t strike him as the type to jump to conclusions about people. “What else bugged you about Ted?”

Her eyes widened the slightest bit. He was right; there was something else. “It’s nothing. But I drove by his house today and it reminded me of a place in LA.” Her jaw closed firmly. She wasn’t ready to share what it’d reminded her of, but that wasn’t what interested Zane.

“So between Ted’s truck and your . . . memory . . . you started to wonder what Teddy-boy has been up to?”

“Something like that.” She looked away, aware of how ridiculous she sounded. Even Sheila seemed amused. “What did Grace Ellis have to say?” Stevie changed the subject, and Zane brought her up to date.

“The other kids said there weren’t any adults there.” Stevie frowned. “Did we miss something?”

“Or like Grace, they thought it was a parent dropping someone off.”

“We need to ask Hunter’s friends again,” Stevie said.

“Is it wrong of me to say I’m tired of talking to teens?” Zane asked. They made him feel old, and it was a lot of work to figure out if they had anything helpful locked in their brains. He glanced at Kenny and Sheila, who had started another conversation about the schedule of events for the Memorial Day celebration. Keeping Stevie’s gaze, he jerked his head toward his office and she followed him out of the room.

“Do you need to go look around Ted’s place?” he asked her once they were in his office.

Surprise crossed her face. “No. Of course not.”

“What did it remind you of?” He crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against his desk.

Her lips pressed together, and he saw her struggle to keep a calm expression.

“Hey,” he said softly. “What happened?”

Her dark gaze finally met his. “It was horrible. One of ours in LA. They held him down and burned him with acid. I was one of the first there.” Her voice faded away.

He waited.

“It was a meth operation that was run in a place that looked exactly like the home and barn at Ted’s. The guys took off when we came in, but I had to listen to him scream while I waited for backup.” She bent her head and placed her hands over her ears with a shudder. “I can still hear the sound.”

Zane unfolded his arms and put a hand on her shoulder. “Did he make it?”

“He lived,” she said simply. Her hands covered her eyes. “I can’t believe the evil people are capable of.” Her shoulders shook and he pulled her against him, her arms pinned between them, her hands still hiding her eyes. Stevie was tall, her chin rested on his shoulder, and he wished he could stop her shudders.

“When did this happen?”

“Six months ago.”

“Is that why you left?”

“It was a big part of the reason. I haven’t told anyone. Except the department shrink they made me meet with. It’s too horrible to talk about,” she ended in a whisper.

He rubbed at her back, feeling her shoulder blades through her uniform.

“I’ll never forget that smell. Or the sounds.”

They stood like that for a few more seconds until she pulled away. “Thank you,” she said quietly, looking away from him. She’d removed her hands from her eyes and he’d caught a glimpse of the raw emotion haunting their depths.

He missed her heat and the sunshine scent from her hair. “You okay?” he asked.

She forced a smile and tenuous eye contact. “Yes. It gets to me sometimes.”

“That would disturb anyone. But I’ll ask you again, do we need to go take a look around Ted’s place?”

“No.” She gave a half smile. “It’s ridiculous for me to feel like this.”

“No, don’t play down your feelings. We could go say we’re doing a follow-up survey about his time in the holding cell yesterday. Like what sort of rating would he give the cleanliness?”

Amused sparks lit up her eyes and her smile widened. “Not necessary. Guys like Ted will always give us opportunities to take a closer look when needed.”





CHAPTER 7


Zane wondered if his shorts made him look “old” as he wandered through the city park. He eyed a group of male teens waiting in line for their corn dogs and curly fries at a food truck. There was no way he was going to let his shorts sag halfway off his ass, but he also hoped he didn’t look as ridiculous as his father had when he wore mid-calf black socks with his tennis shoes.

Thirty-five wasn’t old. Right?

Two teen girls walked by the group of guys, blatantly ignoring their comments, but clearly choosing that path to catch the boys’ notice.

Some things never change.

The smell of the fried food made his mouth water, but he wanted to stroll by all the food trucks before he decided what to eat. Solitude lacked a variety of restaurants. There was the Dairy Queen, of course, but it was the only franchise that’d put down roots in town. That left the choice of the local diner or the newer, organic farm-to-table place that’d opened up a year ago. Their food was good and it was nice to have something that offered different selections, but the main town complaint was that the portions were too small. Sometimes you wanted a huge plate of onion rings and didn’t care if your local farmer had grown the onions without insecticide.