On Her Father's Grave (Rogue River Novella Book 1) (6 page)

She’d been out of the loop.

“Let’s eat, let’s eat!” Patsy came out of the house with three large bowls of different salads. Carly trailed behind her with a pitcher of iced tea and a basket of rolls. Carly’s young daughter, Brianna, carefully carried the butter. “Stevie! We can’t eat without utensils!”

The men jumped to help her mother and pull the ribs off the grill. Stevie ducked back in the house and found James’s wife, Debra, washing her little boys’ hands at the kitchen sink. She handed the boys a towel and gave Stevie a hug. “Good to see you, hon. I’m so glad you’re back to stay.”

Debra had been tight with Stevie and Carly since high school. She’d told them her sophomore year that she intended to marry James one day. The sisters had thought that was disgusting. Didn’t Debra realize James never changed his socks and left the toilet seat up?

Tonight Debra’s eyes were red-rimmed, making Stevie take a second look at her. “You okay, Deb?”

Debra rubbed at her nose. “Yes, just my damned allergies.” She didn’t look Stevie in the eye.

Stevie nodded. If Debra wanted to share, she would. When she was ready.

Stevie pulled open the utensil drawer and started counting out forks, spoons, and knives. She followed Debra out to the deck. Her little boys sat at the side table with Brianna, who instantly went into little-mother mode even though she was only two years older than Debra’s oldest. Stevie passed out the silver and sat down between Carly and Eric with a relieved sigh. She was starved.

Patsy beamed from the head of the table and started passing dishes.

Stevie swallowed hard. There was someone missing. Family dinners would never be the same again without her father. She saw a shadow pass over her mother’s face and her smile faltered. Carly grabbed Stevie’s hand under the table and squeezed.

His absence was keenly felt. His quiet tall figure in contrast to their mother’s petiteness and sparkling personality. They’d balanced each other perfectly. Patsy was a firework: she burned hot and bright with her emotional reactions. Bill Taylor had been calm and steady and slow to anger. A rational man who frequently annoyed their mother with his inarguable logic.

One chair was still empty and a small dash of panic struck Stevie. Had her mother miscounted? And unintentionally included her father? She heard Carly’s intake of breath as the same thought struck her.

“Was Zane going to make it?” Patsy asked James.

“He said he would,” James answered around a bite of roll. “Maybe something kept him at the station.” He looked at Stevie and raised a brow.

“Uh . . . I left an hour ago. There wasn’t anything going on that I knew of.” That cleared up the mystery of the extra chair.

“I heard you’d been hired at the police station,” Eric said. “Won’t that be a bit slow-paced for you?” His kind green eyes smiled at her.

Stevie’s heart did a subtle flip; she’d always loved his eyes. “I hope not. I’ve had enough excitement to last me a couple decades. Slow and quiet sounds awfully good.”

“It’s good to know you’re back,” he said. “Growing up, I know most of us wanted to get away, but when someone comes back, you know they’ve truly learned how great a place this is.”

“Too bad there was a death your first day on the job,” said Bruce with his mouth full.

“No work talk!” exclaimed Patsy. “Especially police work. You know the rules.”

Their father hadn’t been allowed to discuss his work over the dinner table. Dinnertime had been for talking about classes at school and current events.

“What did you learn in science today, Bruce?” Carly asked, imitating their mother’s typical inquiry when they were kids at the dinner table. Snorts and laughs filled the table.

Patsy threw up her hands. “All right, I get it! Just keep death and gossip out of it, okay?”

The slider to the deck was drawn open and Zane stepped out. “Sorry I’m late. Paperwork. I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.” He kissed Patsy on the cheek and looked right at Stevie.

Small sparks shot through her limbs. Zane had changed out of uniform into loose shorts and a casual collared shirt. His dark hair was slightly rumpled, like he’d just drawn a hand through it.

“Of course not, Zane, you’re family,” Patsy answered. She turned speculative eyes toward Stevie.

Oh, no.

Stevie knew that look. Mom was in matchmaking mode.

Christ. I’ve only been in town a few days.

Stevie froze. Who’d actually invited Eric? Her mother or James? She looked at James, but he was focused on his ribs.

She really didn’t need this now.

Zane raised a hand of greeting to the rest of the family and nodded at Eric.

“Hey, Zane. I guess we’re both eating good tonight,” joked Eric.

“I’ve been thinking about barbecue all day. I could smell it the minute I stepped out of my truck.” Zane pulled out the empty chair and sat, placing himself directly across from Stevie, holding her gaze and flashing a grin that warmed her to her toes.

Why didn’t he tell me he was coming for dinner?

Zane took a long drink of the iced tea. It wasn’t just iced tea, he realized. It was blended with lemonade. And vodka.

Welcome to dinner at the Taylors’. Where the beer and hard alcohol flowed freely, and he could always count on entertaining company and good food. His back relaxed for the first time that day. He’d wondered how dinner would be without Big Bill’s presence, but Patsy and the Taylor kids’ chatter and warmth were a constant that almost filled the hole.

Almost.

Bill’s absence was fresh, but this was a family with backbones of steel and they weren’t going to let Bill’s death drag them down for long. They’d mourned; Zane had seen it. They’d always miss their father, but they still had each other and they valued their family time. It was part of what had lured him into the Taylor trap. All those people who were related and actually liked being with each other. And now that Stevie was back, he’d finally get to experience the whole picture.

He took a large rack of ribs and passed the platter to Debra, watching Stevie talk quietly with Eric. Eric Hearne was a good guy. Zane had met him the first week he’d moved to town. He’d never had to visit Eric’s house at two in the morning to tell him the neighbors were complaining of noise, or pull him over because he couldn’t keep his 4x4 in the correct lane. Eric’s divorce two years ago had knocked him for a loop, but he’d come around. His wife had cheated on him and then moved to Sacramento with another man.

“I bet you had a busy day, Zane,” Bruce commented as he plopped a big scoop of potato salad on his plate.

“Yes, luckily not much else was going on so I could focus on Hunter’s death. The only other call today was that someone was shooting off fireworks at the graveyard.”

Across from him, Carly snorted and elbowed Stevie. Bruce laughed and started coughing. “Kinda no point to shoot those off during the day, you know? You can’t see much,” Carly said. Stevie had ignored the elbow and focused on her ear of corn.

“I sent Kenny over to take a look. He didn’t see anyone, but found some cardboard remnants of the shells.”

“No police work talk, please,” Patsy said. “Carly, is Brianna doing day camp this summer?”

“Sorry, ma’am. I forgot,” answered Zane at the same time Bruce apologized. He let the conversation flow around him and covertly studied Stevie. She and Carly were clearly sisters, with the same shape of face and hair color. She’d changed out of her uniform into a wispy sundress that he could almost see through. In spite of the heat, her hair hung down her back, longer than he’d expected after seeing it pulled back all day. She didn’t look like a cop from Solitude or LA.

She looked like someone who should be reading a book in a swinging hammock, without a care in the world.

Conversation spun with ease for the next hour. Bruce and James were natural comedians whose goal seemed to be to outdo each other. They kept the table in stitches. Currently they were trading Jeff Foxworthy–style redneck jokes.

“You know you’re from a small town if you call the wrong number and you know the person you called,” stated Bruce.

“I’ve done that!” Carly slapped her forehead.

“Local gas stations sell live bait,” countered James.

“Well, thank goodness,” said Bruce. “Who has time to dig their own worms?”

No one mentioned their missing father. He noticed Patsy looking wistful several times, usually as she gazed at one of her children, and Zane wondered if she was watching for the elements of Bill in each one. Each kid had a piece of Bill somewhere. It was probably the toughest to find in Bruce, but Zane saw it in his gentle handling of Patsy. She often patted Bruce’s hand or shoulder in affection for her youngest child.

Debra sat down after her sixth trip to the kids’ table to settle a dispute between her boys. James said something under his breath to her, and Debra slammed her hands on the tabletop. “Then
you
take care of it!” She pushed back her chair and vanished into the kitchen.

The table went quiet and James turned a shade of red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and took another drink of his beer.

Zane glanced at Patsy and his heart cracked at the pain on her face.

“Go talk to her,” she told James.

James shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“A woman who storms away from the table is not fine. Go talk to her. And listen to what she needs to say; don’t get defensive,” Patsy urged.

Carly’s face had paled during the incident, and Zane wondered what had happened with her husband. In his dealings with Seth, he’d met a straight-up guy. A Rogue County police investigator, Seth could have been a real dick to a small-town cop like Zane, but instead he’d been respectful.

James slowly pushed back from the table and followed his wife. Patsy shook her head, her gaze following him. She turned to eye the other men at the table. “That’s a cry for understanding and attention from her man,” she said firmly. “You all know Debra isn’t one for making a scene.” Patsy reached out and snagged the T-shirt of the five-year-old who’d decided to follow his father. She pulled the boy onto her lap and squeezed him in a massive hug.

All the men nodded, and Zane found himself agreeing. Something wasn’t right in James-and-Debra-land.

“Everybody finished?” Stevie asked and stood at the same time, collecting her and Carly’s plates. Eric immediately pushed back his chair, grabbing the plates out of her hands. The warm smile she offered him made Zane swallow hard.

What was that?

He rubbed at the front of his throat, frowning as he watched Stevie grab more dishes and head inside with Eric on her heels. He stood and slowly stacked dishes, fighting the need to see what was happening in the kitchen.

What does it matter to you?

Stevie had probably known the guy since she could walk. That’s how it was around here. Everyone had a history with someone else. Even though he’d lived here five years, he was still “that new guy.” When he’d first come to town, locals had quizzed him, searching for common ground. Did they know the same people? Did his family have any roots in the area? Once they figured out he came from the opposite side of the state and knew nothing about Solitude, their faces would put on a pleasant mask.
We will be nice to you, but you’re not one of us.

Locals still wore that mask. Faye had worn it when she’d spoken to him earlier.

His goal in life was to be accepted as one of their own. What would it take to get there?

He picked up Patsy’s plate and she thanked him with a smile, but put a hand on his wrist, stopping him from leaving. “Zane, can I talk to you?”

He took a closer look and saw her eyes were troubled. He set the dishes back down and sat in Bruce’s vacated chair, giving her his full attention. He adored Patsy. She’d been the only person who’d made him feel like he truly belonged in Solitude. “What’s wrong?”

Patsy set James’s son down with a kiss on the top of his head and sent him back to his meal. He dashed to join his brother and cousin, and Patsy sighed, watching the three children.

“It breaks my heart that Bill won’t see them grow up,” she whispered. She turned soft brown eyes to him. “And I know there will be more grandchildren that he’ll miss out on.”

“He’s watching. He sees them,” Zane answered.

Patsy nodded, her brow clearing. “Very true. I feel him close by constantly.”

“What’s wrong?” Zane repeated, knowing she hadn’t said what was truly troubling her. He took her hand in his, making her look at him.

“It’s Bill. I’d like you to take a closer look into his death.”

Zane straightened. “What? Why? Was there something odd?” Details raced through his mind. He’d read the report. Roy had been the one to find Bill in his police cruiser, slumped over the wheel. There’d been nothing strange at the scene and the ME’s autopsy had clearly stated it was a heart attack.

“Well, not really,” she faltered.

“Then what? What exactly do you want me to do?”

“It just doesn’t feel right.” Her dark eyes pleaded with him to understand. “That’s not how Bill was supposed to die.”