Death and Her Devotion (Rogue Vows Book 1), page 1
ALSO BY KENDRA ELLIOT
Bone Secrets Novels
Hidden
Chilled
Buried
Alone
“Veiled” (short story)
Known
Callahan & McLane
Part of the Bone Secrets World
Vanished
Bridged
Spiraled
Targeted
Rogue River Novellas
On Her Father’s Grave
Her Grave Secrets
Rogue Winter Novella
Dead in Her Tracks
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 Kendra Elliot
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
e-ISBN: 9781503995529
Cover design by Eileen Carey
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
“Stevie?” Sheila’s voice came over the police radio. “We’ve got a body out at the Crying Indian Campground.”
Stevie pulled a neat U-turn in her patrol vehicle to head in the campground’s direction and picked up her mic. “Accidental drowning?” The Crying Indian site backed up to the Rogue River near a calm eddy, and with the July heat, people were venturing into any water to cool off—people who didn’t know how to swim.
“Not a drowning. Ralph, the campground host, called me. Said the body’s in the woods, and it looks like he was murdered.”
Damn it. Solitude hadn’t had a murder since December, when the police discovered a killer with a penchant for abusing and then permanently disposing of young women. In Stevie’s opinion, there had been enough deaths that month to last Solitude through the next decade.
“I’ll be there in five.”
“Zane and Kenny will be there as soon as they can.”
She floored the accelerator and sped down the empty two-lane highway. Seven a.m. was early for a dead body, and she yawned, cursing her late night.
It wasn’t my fault.
Her mother and her brother Bruce had kept her up half the night discussing the music selections for her wedding and reception this coming weekend. When Stevie finally blurted that she didn’t care what was played, her musical family blew up. To them, music was as important as food.
She understood. Music was part of her soul, but she was tired of deliberating every available option for her wedding and making decisions.
Food. Location. Decor. Table settings. Her dress. Bridesmaids’ dresses. Flower girl dress. Tuxes. Flowers. Cake.
While driving to work this morning, she’d grown deliriously happy as she realized she could avoid all wedding talk for the next ten hours.
Is this normal for a bride?
But the minute she’d entered the police department, her fiancé, Zane, had asked if she’d picked out the song for “our dance.”
At the look on her face, he’d taken a step back and asked if she’d like more coffee.
She pulled into the Crying Indian Campground and parked next to the host’s ancient trailer. Ralph had lived at the campground as long as she could remember, and she suspected the tires of his trailer hadn’t driven on blacktop in decades. Pinecones and pollen covered the tarp over his huge wood stack. FIREWOOD $5/BUNDLE read the sign.
Ralph came jogging up the narrow campground road, waving his old fishing hat at her. The short man’s legs were severely bowed, and Stevie’s knees hurt as she watched him run.
“It’s this way,” he huffed at her, spinning around and heading back the way he’d come. She got out and followed at a slow jog.
“What happened?”
“Dunno.” Ralph gasped for breath, his legs taking twice as many strides as her long ones. “One of his friends came and beat on my door this morning, saying their friend was dead. I took a look, felt for a pulse, and then called Sheila. They wanted to call 911, but I told them calling Sheila direct would get faster results out here.”
Sadly, it was true.
“Nice bunch of guys. Quiet and didn’t cause any problems,” Ralph said. “They said they didn’t want to make a scene this morning and asked me to not wake up any other campers.”
Stevie noticed that every campsite they passed contained a tent or trailer, but no curious faces peered out. An unusual sight for an emergency. The next dozen campsites they passed were empty, but on each site’s post hung a RESERVED tag. A hundred feet ahead, at the end of the campground, she saw four identical tents. “Why are all these sites empty?”
“This group of guys bought them all for the week even though they didn’t use them. Said they wanted some privacy.”
She was instantly annoyed; the group must have kept several families from finding a place to camp. The big black Hummer parked next to the new, bright-blue tents increased her annoyance. Out-of-towners.
Campsite rental was cheap. But for some families it was the only affordable means of vacationing.
Two guys stood by the Hummer, deep in conversation as she approached. A child’s face peered out of one of the vehicle’s lowered windows. “They’ve got kids with them?” Stevie asked Ralph in a low voice.
“Just the one boy. I believe the dead man was his uncle.”
Pity shot through her. He’ll never forget this camping trip.
The shorter of the two men stepped forward and held out his hand as Stevie arrived. “Thank you for coming.” His hand was damp, and his green eyes were rimmed in red. He’d pulled on a cap over his bleached, spiky hair. A tall, skinny man stayed at the truck, holding the boy’s hand through the window. Both men wore spotless, expensive sneakers and Apple Watches. The one at the truck had both of his ears pierced.
Definitely not locals.
Stevie introduced herself. Bleached hair was Josh and the skinny guy was Spider. “Show me the way.”
The men exchanged a look, and Spider spoke. “I’ll stay here with Brandon. He doesn’t want to get out of the Hummer.”
“I’m expecting more officers,” Stevie said to Spider. “Can you send them our way when they arrive?”
Spider nodded, and the young boy ducked his head out of sight as Stevie smiled at him. She and Ralph followed Josh down a dirt path between their tents and deeper into the woods. Crying Indian was a heavily used campground during the summer. Under the tall firs, the packed dirt ground was scattered with pine needles. Every stick or twig that could be used in a campfire was long gone. They passed trees that had huge sections of bark stripped away, the smooth living wood of their trunks exposed. No doubt the bark had been stolen to burn.
“What happened to your friend?” Stevie asked Josh.
“I’m not sure.”
She’d originally thought Josh was in his early twenties, but as she walked next to him, she realized he had to be at least thirty. He dressed young: baggy cargo shorts and a tank top. No wedding ring. Brandon appeared to be about ten, and she assumed Spider was his father.
“Chase wasn’t in his tent when I got up this morning. I didn’t think much of it until I’d been up for fifteen minutes and he hadn’t appeared. That’s when I asked Spider and Toby if he’d said he was going somewhere.”
“Toby?”
“He’s up ahead with . . . with the body.” Josh shook his head and wiped his eyes. “He’s a mess . . . we’re all a mess. The four of us are pretty tight. And finding Chase like that . . .”
“Had either of them talked to Chase this morning?” Stevie asked, stepping over a well-worn root that crossed their path.
“No. The three of us started hollering his name and decided to search.”
The Rogue River grew louder as they walked, and Stevie smelled the cool water and damp moss that covered its rocks. “Who found him?”
“Toby.” Josh stumbled, but Stevie didn’t see a rock in the path. “Oh God.” His voice cracked. “How did this happen to us?”
Stevie spotted a man up ahead. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his cargo shorts, his shoulders slumped, and his cap was slightly crooked. Where Josh and Spider looked as if they spent a lot of time in the gym, Toby appeared to prefer time on the couch. Stevie noted he wore the same expensive shoes and watch. He was crying and had a difficult time looking her in the eye.
Josh and Ralph stayed back as Toby led her past a giant fir, its trunk at least five feet in diameter. On the other side lay a man on his back. A belt was cinched tight around his neck and his arms were stretched above his head. Toby halted several feet from the body.
“I wanted to take off the belt, but the other guys wouldn’t let me,” whispered Toby through a fresh wave of tears. “The
“They were right. Stay back, okay?” Stevie pulled out her camera and started taking pictures, working her way to the body. Their friend was dead. Flies were buzzing in his mouth and eyes, and she smelled a hint of decay, something putrid and rotting, over the fresh, wet smells of the river. “Did you touch him?” she asked Toby.
“I shook him, but he was cold. Then the other guys pulled me away.”
“What’s his name again?” Stevie asked as she started taking pictures of the corpse. Same shoes; same watch.
“Chase.”
“Chase what?” she asked with a touch of impatience. Toby didn’t answer, and she turned around to see if he was listening.
Toby looked at his shoes. “Chase Ryan,” he said softly.
Stevie froze and then spun to look at the body, recognizing the hair and face.
Chase Ryan. Big-time TV star.
Solitude Police Chief Zane Duncan plowed through the woods. A half step behind him, Kenny talked nonstop about the Hummer in the campground.
“I’ve never driven one,” Kenny said. “Heck, I’ve never even sat in one. I really think they look good in black, although I’ve seen them in a sporty yellow. It takes a lot of guts to drive a big vehicle in that color. I don’t know if I could do it. Think it’d be okay if I took a closer look at it when we’re done?”
“Might need it for evidence,” Zane said.
“Oh! Good point.”
Zane followed the path that Spider had indicated, wondering what they’d find. Up ahead he spotted Ralph with a guy in a cap. With her camera in hand, Stevie stepped out from behind a huge tree with a third man.
Stevie made introductions and indicated for Zane and Kenny to follow her. Hanging back, Josh slung an arm around Toby’s shoulders, and both men looked ready to collapse. “What happened?” Zane asked Stevie in a low voice as they left the small group.
“These four guys and the ten-year-old were up here for a week of camping and fishing,” Stevie reported as they rounded a fir. “This morning when they got up, the fourth guy, Chase, was missing. After searching, they found him here. It looks like he was strangled with a belt. They said it’s the victim’s belt.” She turned and held a hand up to halt him and Kenny midstride, a serious look on her face. “There’s one more thing. The victim is Chase Ryan.”
Zane couldn’t place the name.
“The actor?” Kenny squeaked. “From Detective Alex Gunn?”
It clicked. “The TV crime show?” Zane asked as shock blew through him. Last night he’d caught a Gunn rerun and shared popcorn with his dog Magic on the couch beside him. He’d frequently relied on the dog for company since Stevie’s mother had insisted she live at home until the wedding. When Patsy put her foot down, people obeyed.
It can’t be the TV star.
Zane stepped around Stevie and studied the corpse. Flies were everywhere. Swelling had distorted the man’s face, and his eyes were clouded. The resemblance to the young detective on TV was rapidly diminishing, but it was still there. Kenny took off his hat and held it against his chest. “I love that show,” he whispered. “What the heck was Chase doing out here?”
“Vacationing. They came up here from Los Angeles to get away from it all,” said Stevie. “The other three guys all work for Chase, but they’ve been close friends for a long time. Spider, the guy out by the Hummer, is Chase’s brother.”
“Isn’t Chase Ryan originally from the Portland area?” Zane asked.
“Yes, all of them are. The four of them went to high school together, and according to Toby, Chase headed to Hollywood along with Josh. When he hit it big, he hired Toby and Spider and brought them south to join him.”
“Hired them to do what?” asked Kenny. “Where can I get a job like that?”
“It sounds like Josh is Chase’s manager, but I don’t know what the rest of the guys do,” said Stevie. “Is Hank on his way?” she asked Zane, referring to the medical examiner.
“He is. Shouldn’t be long. Get enough photos? See anything odd in the area?”
“I marked where I’ve searched,” said Stevie. “But we need to expand the area. I haven’t found anything besides pinecones and dirt.”
Zane crouched next to the body. “Who would do something like this?” He took a closer look at the belt around Chase’s neck and his swelling flesh bulging over the leather. There are three suspects to start with.
“I can’t believe it,” Kenny repeated for the tenth time. “That was one of my favorite shows. It was a police show done right, you know? Raw and gritty and realistic. They didn’t Hollywood up everything. Until they blew up his costar in the season finale.” He shook his head. “There’s no way she’s dead after five seasons of high ratings. I think they’re trying to pull one over on the audience.”
“Not now, Kenny,” Zane muttered.
“Morning, Chief.” Hank appeared with his medical examiner’s bag of tricks. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“No offense, but I like it that way,” stated Zane.
“That’s what everyone says.” Hank slid on his glasses, and his thick white mustache and beard twitched as he squatted next to the body. His shorts and sneakers gave Zane an image of Santa on vacation. “Got your pictures?”
Zane nodded, but gestured for Stevie to continue shooting as Hank did a quick examination of the body.
“Rigor isn’t fully set,” Hank mumbled. “I’ll get a temperature to narrow our window. When did anyone see him last?”
“I’ll ask,” Kenny volunteered, and headed toward Toby, Josh, and Ralph.
Zane looked away as Hank slid his thermometer into Chase’s liver. “I’ll leave the belt around his neck until I get him on a table,” Hank said as he moved to palpate the skull. “Hmmm. Feels like some swelling back here. Could he have hit his head in a fall?”
The three of them scanned the area for rocks. None.
“I’ll check it later,” Hank promised. “Hard to wrap a belt around someone’s neck and effectively choke them without some resistance from the victim. Usually the strangulation is secondary after a primary blow or being overpowered.” He checked the man’s hands and lower arms. “No defensive wounds.” With a quick pull, he removed the thermometer, and his lips moved silently as he did some quick subtraction. “I’d say he’s been dead roughly ten to six hours. That helpful for now? I’ll narrow it later.”
“So he died between ten last night and two in the morning,” said Zane.
“Roughly,” emphasized Hank.
“Sounds like Josh was the last one to see him, around midnight last night,” said Kenny, rejoining the group. “I’ll double-check with the guy waiting out by the Hummer . . . the bug guy . . .”
“Spider,” supplied Stevie.
“Yeah, him. I’ll ask if he saw him after that, but Toby and Josh don’t think he did.”
“That tightens our window a bit,” said Zane. “We need to get those guys separated and start asking questions.”
Stevie nodded. “I’m on it.”
Zane studied the dead TV star. The famous Detective Alex Gunn was dead.
Time for me to figure out who did it.
CHAPTER TWO
Stevie watched Josh Black’s hands shake as he accepted a cup of coffee from her. She noticed he simply held it, not drinking.
The man looked shell-shocked.
She’d driven him back to the station while Zane drove the other two men and young Brandon. Kenny had stayed behind to question some of the other campers. A few people had finally emerged from their tents and watched as the wagon from the morgue slowly made its way to the far end of the campground. By the time Stevie and Zane were ready to leave, the number of people had increased to more than twenty.
She’d pulled Ralph aside and ordered him not to talk about the death. Not the name of the victim or what he saw. “Lie,” she directed. “Tell them you were too nervous to get close and see a body. You can say he was from out of town and his friends are upset. No more than that.” He’d agreed, but she’d seen his chest puff up with importance as they walked past the spectators.
Please keep it quiet.
If word got out that the A-list actor had died in their tiny town, it’d become a zoo.
