Free Her Grave Secrets (Rogue River Novella Book 3) by Kendra Elliot Page B

surprised by the burnt taste of the coffee. She’d drunk it daily while she lived in LA, but in Solitude the only coffee to go was at the deli or Dairy Queen, neither of which she found worth her money. She brewed her own with Starbucks beans from the grocery store, but apparently the fresh stuff in the shop was stronger. “Have I become a coffee wimp?” she muttered into her cup.
    Zane smiled. “That’s why I went for the light roast. When you don’t drink it every day, it slaps you in the face.”
    “It’s a pleasurable slap. Smells so freaking good. I wish Solitude was big enough to support a good coffee place like this city does.”
    They’d driven into Hannon, the Rogue County seat, to meet Seth’s drug arrest from the night before. Stevie had barely left Solitude for the past two months. A mental jolt at the sight of the multiple traffic lights and tons of cars made her wonder what else she’d not missed since leaving LA. Pollution, crowds, McMansions, overpriced fashion.
    Now she listened and watched via camera as Seth interviewed the arrestee in the Rogue County Sheriff’s Office. Ronnie Sinclair looked like any other unemployed twenty-year-old from Southern Oregon. Ball cap over greasy hair, ratty shorts, and tennis shoes. This was the summer wardrobe. During the winter the shorts were exchanged for jeans. He slouched in the chair as Seth talked with him.
    “What made him admit to dealing?” Zane asked. “Isn’t that the first lesson dealers are taught? Never admit? The punishment is much steeper for dealing versus personal use.”
    “I don’t know,” said Stevie. “Maybe they offered him some sort of deal? They’re starting to get desperate to find the source. Seth said he turned down a lawyer. I don’t know why he did that either.”
    “We may be giving him too much credit,” said Zane. “He doesn’t appear to be the sharpest tool in the shed.”
    Stevie agreed. So far the interview had been a bunch of cussing and name-calling on Ronnie’s part. But he wasn’t mad at the cops. He was mad at another dealer and wanted him to pay. He kept asking Seth if he could take a smoke break, but Seth put him off, causing the young man to squirm more and more in his seat.
    “I have the whole east side south of Tenth Street,” Ronnie told Seth earnestly. “It’s a good zone. But it’s dried up in the last month and you can’t tell me people are losing their taste for bacon.”
    “Maybe they’re dying,” Seth said.
    Ronnie brushed his comment aside. “Naw, nothin’ like that. Someone else has been in my territory. They’re underselling my price. I can’t sell it that low . . . I need to make a profit! It’s not fair! You understand me?”
    Seth nodded.
    “He wants Seth to arrest his competition?” Stevie tried not to laugh. “Doesn’t he know the U.S. supports free enterprise?”
    “He really thinks he’s been wronged,” Zane observed. “He’s like the guy who calls the police because someone stole his stash of pot.”
    “Who’s stepping over territory lines?” Seth asked.
    Ronnie looked pleased that Seth finally understood his issue. “I don’t know. But they’ve got everybody talking. Those two dead guys last week at the beach? They had the same complaint as me. Now they’re dead.”
    Stevie and Zane leaned toward the monitor.
    Seth sat very still. “I thought they took too much of the drug while partying. You think they were killed by someone who wanted to get rid of the competition?”
    Ronnie lifted his hands in exasperation. “Ain’t that what I’ve been saying?”
    “Who’s rumored to be cleaning house?” Seth asked.
    The young man shrugged. “Beats me. That’s why I’m talking to the police. I don’t want to end up with two bullets in my brain or too much bacon in my belly. You guys need to do something.”
    “You must have heard some theories floating around. What’s the word on the street about those deaths?”
    Ronnie looked away. “I don’t know,