“Word sure travels fast around here. Yes, we did. Poor guy. I contacted next of kin, and you know what his dad said?”
Addie cocked an eyebrow and harrumphed. “I can imagine. I knew the Elders family; they used to live up on Broken Wheel. I remember Glen when he was just a bit.” She held her hand out flat to indicate the height of a child.
This got Tess’s attention. She’d learned that Broken Wheel was the high-rent district in Rogue’s Hollow with the most expensive houses. The Peabodys’ home was at the end of the street. It was the biggest house, a mansion really, with acreage that backed up to forest. Thinking of the Peabodys made Tess remember Duncan racing through town yesterday. She really needed to speak to the Peabodys about their son, but at the moment, the murder took precedence.
She wondered what Addie knew about Glen Elders.
“The Elders family has money?” Tess asked, holding her coffee mug in two hands as Addie answered.
“They did. But then came divorce, and it was nasty. He tried to hide assets; she tried to take every penny she could. In the end they divided the proceeds from the sale of the house and he quit his job, saying he wouldn’t work to pay half of it to her as alimony. He bought a place in a shabby trailer park and filed for food stamps. She tried to do right by the kids and got married again, but she sure had poor taste in men.” Addie tsked. “Probably why Glen turned out the way that he did. What did Pa have to say?”
“Just that he was sorry but he really couldn’t be bothered; then he hung up.”
Addie arched an eyebrow. “It was always amazing to me that they were any relation at all to Anna Macpherson. That woman and her parents are good people, kind people.”
Tess grunted. “Yeah, I heard he was a cousin. Had you seen him around here lately?”
“No, but you should talk to Forest. Glen had an old Jeep that always needed work. Forest was his go-to guy for repairs. That Forest is a softie. Sometimes I’m amazed he stays in business because he falls for every hard-luck story there is. Now, what kind of omelet?”
“Thanks for the tip, and how about just a bowl of oatmeal?”
“With walnuts, raisins, and a glass of milk?”
“Yeah.” Tess nodded, not wanting to argue. Both Addie and Klaus thought she needed to put on some pounds. She hated to admit she liked the fussing. She hadn’t been fussed over in longer than she could remember. Her mother wasn’t a fusser; that had been more her father. And Paul only ever fussed over himself.
Pulling out her notebook, she wrote down Forest’s name. He was almost as interesting as Victor but not nearly as intimidating. On her first day in uniform he’d seen her at the coffee shop and commented on her car. He’d been very pleasant, really liked Tess’s convertible.
“Wow, nice open-top coupe. SLC Roadster, right? Brand-new?”
“Yep, six months old.”
“Sweet. You ever want to part with it, let me know.”
Forest reminded Tess of a hippie. Even his full name said free spirit—Forest Wild. Not his given name, no; she’d been told he legally changed his name the day he turned eighteen. He wore his hair long and was given to donning tie-dye shirts. She’d heard that he could fix anything, but he specialized in motorcycles. There was even a rumor floating around that in his youth he rode with the Hells Angels motorcycle gang. He did have a lot of tattoos, but they were mostly faded and unreadable and she’d never asked him if that tale was true. But he was a colorful guy and she made a note to talk to him about Glen Elders.
One intriguing aspect of moving to a small town like Rogue’s Hollow was the information highway and the few degrees of separation. Almost everybody knew one another and there were a lot of relations, brothers, cousins, and grandparents. Though she’d met several transplants like herself, most folks were tied to the area by history. She’d met two families who resided on property their distant relatives had homesteaded after traveling across the country in covered wagons.
All of this made for a less transient attitude in people than she’d found in Long Beach. People here were a part of their community, connected. Tess envied that feeling.
“Chief O’Rourke, can I have a word with you?”
Tess looked up, and there stood Casey Reno, the animal advocate. She was also the owner of Rogue’s Hollow Bookstore and Notions. Tess loved to read and had stopped at the bookstore once or twice, though she had scant little time to read any of the books she picked up. And Reno had given her a decidedly cold shoulder. Tess tried not to be paranoid, but she was certain Reno’s standoffishness was because of the shooting in Long Beach. One of these days she planned on asking the woman just what the problem was, but not today. Today, seeing Reno reminded Tess of the dog.
“Oh, uh, sure. I was going to call you when I got to the office. How’s the dog?”
“She lost her right front leg,” Reno said, holding a sixteen-ounce cup of coffee from the Hollow Grind, a coffee shop across the street, and looking uncomfortable. “But she’ll live.”
Tess saw a pretty girl, a younger version of Reno, maybe in her early teens, standing near the door to the restaurant. She looked familiar and Tess figured that she’d probably seen her at the local market. She’d learned since her hire that the market was a summertime hangout for teens.
Reno noticed her gaze. “My daughter, Kayla.”
Tess cleared her throat. “Why don’t you have a seat. I see you already have coffee.” There was a bit of an awkward silence.
Reno cast a glance back at Kayla and gave the girl a slight nod before sitting. “I have a busy day planned, but I wanted to talk to you first.” She hesitated, stiffly, on the edge of a chair.
She was probably a couple of years older than Tess. Her long hair was grayer than any other color and she wore no makeup to cover her wrinkles. But the wrinkles said this was a woman who laughed a lot and enjoyed life. Tess remembered that when Casey got the dog into her truck, she flashed a smile, and laugh lines and dimples made the years fall away. She bet that Casey was a fun person to be around.
Reno looked away and then looked back at Tess. “She really is a sweet dog. Dr. Fox couldn’t believe how well behaved she was when she had to be in such pain.”
Tess had that feeling when they approached the dog. Pit bulls could look so scary. And a dog named Killer? She was thickly muscled, certainly powerful, and with pain obvious in her eyes. She hated to admit to Reno she’d been ready to shoot the dog. But the bookstore owner had managed to lead the dog away from Elders without causing so much as a whimper.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Tess wondered what made Reno so uncomfortable and if there was anything she could do to alleviate her discomfort.
“You probably won’t be when you get the bill.” Reno shook her head. “I still don’t understand why you don’t just bill the city. It’s all work related.”
“Mayor Dixon explained the budget to me. I’m pretty sure a vet bill for saving a dog isn’t in there.”
This seemed to relax her a bit and Reno gave a wry smile. “As a council member, I know you’re right, but when it comes to animals, well . . .” Her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat. “Thank you for calling me. And don’t take this personally—I just need to get this out there, clear the air as it were. I was a no vote when it came to hiring you.”
Tess leaned back, not sure what to say. She remembered Casey being somewhat hostile at the interview—not as bad as Markarov, but not friendly either. And she knew the vote for her hire was close but hadn’t really thought much about it. The overwhelming nature of the reason she’d ever left Long Beach dominated her thinking. Besides, she’d been hired. It was up to her now to do a good job.
“As a mother, it’s hard for me to get past the fact that you shot a fourteen-year-old. I’m trying to—I mean, I want to get past it, but . . .”
Tess had no response. But after a few seconds, Reno continued.
“When I step into my city council shoes, I can now say I was wrong to vote no. You’ve done a gr
eat job for the two months you’ve been here. And yesterday . . . well, as an animal lover, I truly appreciate you saving Killer’s life when you would not have been faulted for killing her. I know Chief Bailey would have shot her without a second thought. I hope that someday I’ll be able to look at things differently from my role as a mom.” She met Tess’s gaze. “I’m behind you from the city council side. I just wanted you to know that.”
Tess fought the emotion that welled up inside. Addie, Klaus, and the Macphersons had all extended the hand of friendship, but no one else came close. Now, for this woman, who admitted voting against her, to say that she regretted it made a permanent place here seem possible.
“Mrs. Reno, I—”
“Please, it’s Casey.”
“Casey, I don’t fault you for not voting for me. After all the press, well . . .” She stopped short of saying she’d been afraid she would never find a job in law enforcement. “I hope to be able to prove I’m not the monster the cable news networks tried to make me.”
“I can see that now, and I guess Long Beach’s loss is our gain. Oh, and I nearly forgot.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a baggie with a note attached. “Dr. Fox plucked this out of the dog’s mangled leg. He actually dropped it off at my house late last night. Kind of amazing it was still there.”
Tess considered that. When she’d arrived on scene, she’d thought the dog looked wet, that she’d been in the creek. Was it really possible she did fall in, and not only did the bullet stay with her, but she wasn’t drowned?
“God was watching out for that little one,” Casey said with a look of awe in her eyes.
Tess took the baggie and her spirits soared. Not about the God talk, but about the fact that the vet had the presence of mind to write down where he’d gotten the slug, what day and what time, and that it was him and him alone who handled the slug and sealed it into the baggie. Talk about preserving the chain of evidence. He’d even noted the time he’d given the baggie to Casey.
“I don’t know about miracles or God, but this is awesome. Let me write down the time and date you gave it to me and have you sign it as well.”
They did that and Tess put it in her bag, making a mental note to send it to the crime lab in Salem as soon as possible.
Casey smiled. “As much as I’m gratified to have come to the conclusion that you’ll be an asset to Rogue’s Hollow, I really don’t want to be a part of any more of your interesting days. I think I can go the whole rest of my life without seeing any more dead bodies. I didn’t know Glen that well, but I had stopped him to pet that dog once or twice. I had nightmares about his body.”
Tess nodded knowingly. “I understand. I’m sorry you had to be involved at all. It was Pastor Macpherson who told me you were the animal person.”
Casey held her hand up. “Don’t apologize for that. I’m glad to have helped. I’m involved with an animal sanctuary out in Ruch, and I’d probably come to another crime scene if it meant saving an animal, but that was disturbing.”
She made a face and Tess smiled. She liked Casey Reno.
“That’s why I own a bookstore,” Casey continued. “My murder and mayhem is all fictional.”
“I can understand that sentiment. I like the fictional stuff as well.”
“I noticed that, and I have to say, a lot of the books you’ve shown an interest in are books I’ve read or I want to read—crime, mystery, and craziness. In print, just not in person.”
Tess gave her a thumbs-up. “I’ve always loved to read. First horse books, then some science fiction, now action, thrillers, and mysteries.”
“Is that why you became a cop?”
“Not really. My granddad and my dad were both cops. I like to think it’s in my blood. It’s always been the only job I’ve wanted. To me it’s interesting, rewarding work.”
Casey’s gaze went somber. “Even after what happened in Long Beach?”
Tess sucked in a breath and batted her coffee cup from one hand to the other. She fought to keep her face from showing she felt gut-punched. It wasn’t that she thought the subject would never come up—Casey herself had just referenced it—but in two months, this was the first direct inquiry and she’d not been prepared.
Casey must have sensed her discomfort and started to backtrack.
Tess raised a hand. “It’s okay. I expect people are curious about that mess. But I did my job. I won’t apologize for that.” Or get defensive, she thought. “I deeply regret I had to take a life, but he gave me no other choice. I hashed it out with the department shrink, and I know in my heart there was nothing else I could have done that night.” Her eyes met Casey’s, and Tess saw no judgment or pity there.
Casey looked away. “I will admit, after all the press—at least what I saw and read—I imagined you were a trigger-happy, coldhearted monster, but I know now you’re not that person. I hope it hasn’t been difficult. I mean . . . well, I really hope I haven’t made it difficult for you to fit in here.”
Tess ignored the pinch of self-pity as Casey’s words hit home. It had been hard, but she’d tried to ignore the snubs, the side glances. But she wasn’t going to whine about it.
“I’ve been busy learning a whole new system,” she said with a shrug. “That’s all I can do, my job. I can’t worry about what people think of me.”
“Fair enough.”
Addie interrupted by returning to refill Tess’s coffee cup and to ask if Casey wanted to order breakfast.
“I can’t stay. Kayla is waiting,” Casey said as she stood. “My daughter and I are on a field trip today, on our way to Crater Lake.”
“Thank you for giving me the update on the dog, and the evidence. I appreciate it.”
“I’m glad I could help. If you need to find a home for the dog, let me know.”
“I will, after I’m certain none of the family wants her. I’ve notified the next of kin. And I’ll be asking people about Glen, trying to find anyone who can tell me what he was doing here. Besides the dog, did you say that you didn’t know Glen well?”
“I’ve only seen him around, said hello; that’s about it. And I heard Anna talk about him, asking for prayer, mostly. I spoke to him a couple of times only because I liked the dog. I never met a dog I couldn’t say hello to. But he wasn’t a reader, so he never came into the shop.” Casey slapped her forehead. “Wait a second. I did see him a few days ago, last week maybe. Thursday.”
Tess sat up straight as Addie set her breakfast down. “You did? Where?”
“He must have been coming from Forest’s. The bookstore is next door to Wild Automotive.”
“Right.” Tess knew that. “Did you speak to him?”
“No, he was on his cell phone. He stopped for a minute in front of the shop. I could see he was having an animated conversation with someone.”
“If you saw him, then someone else must have as well.” Tess thought about the layout of the town, trying to visualize where Glen might have gone next. She was still in the process of learning the ebb and flow of the place. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone? Somewhere in town maybe?”
Casey shrugged. “Could have gone to the church, to see Anna.”
Tess shook her head. “I’ve spoken to the pastor. No luck there.”
“That’s right. Pastor Mac was there with you when you found Glen. Well, Glen was friends with Cole Markarov. Maybe he got a room at Charlie’s.”
“Markarov?” Tess wondered if he’d be a help or a hindrance.
“Yeah.” Casey let out a heavy sigh. “Ashamed to say I voted with him. He’s childish at times. And a chauvinist. Beware.”
“I’ve heard that from Addie as well, and I’ve met my share of those.”
“I bet that you have.” Casey said good-bye and left the inn.
Casey had given her a good lead. Charlie’s was Charlie’s Place, a bed-and-breakfast at the farthest edge of the town, the only private business on the east side of Midas Creek. There was a state-run concession and a c
ouple of campgrounds past Charlie’s Place, but that area was state owned, not Tess’s responsibility.
Right after her swearing in, Tess had read a book about Rogue’s Hollow written by a local historian. The beautiful Victorian mansion that was now Charlie’s Place had a large role in that history. The home had a storied past and it was built practically on top of what had given the town its name.
Perched on a rise overlooking the confluence of the Rogue River and Midas Creek, Charlie’s Place sat just below the hollows, a series of tubes, or caves, left over from long-ago volcanic activity that extended from Midas Creek and ran along the river. The caves were not as extensive as the Oregon Caves, an attraction a couple of hours northwest of Rogue’s Hollow, but their story was more colorful.
Rogue’s Hollow was initially called Midasville because it was founded during the southern Oregon gold rush. After the gold vein near the headwaters of Midas Creek petered out, the town faded as gold hunters moved on to Jacksonville, Prospect, and other more promising towns.
In the late 1800s and early 1900s the hollows served as hideouts for bad guys, robbers, rustlers, and during Prohibition, for moonshiners. One industrious moonshiner built a shack over the hollows. In fact, at one time during Prohibition, after a particularly bloody raid, the federal government almost filled them in with cement to prevent their use as hidey-holes. But locals saw a sightseeing opportunity. After all, Crater Lake was attracting people to the area—why not give tourists something else to see on the way? Midasville was only fifty miles away from the beautiful volcanic lake. Drawing people to their portion of the Rogue River to see mysterious caves shouldn’t be that difficult. The caves were saved from concrete but not officially developed into a scenic stop until the late 1930s.
What eventually resurrected and saved the town was logging. The hills in the area were flush with wooden gold. A large mill was built, and business and labor flooded back into town. By then a lumber tycoon replaced the moonshiner’s shack with a big Victorian mansion to oversee the sawmill, and he set up a concession to give visitors tours of the caves. He got the town to vote at that time to officially change the name of the town from Midasville to Rogue’s Hollow.
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