Gone to Her Grave (Rogue River Novella Book 2) by Melinda Leigh Page B

of smooth. “Jeans, T-shirt, work boots. Same as every day I work at the site.”
    “How many hits of C-22 did you say Russ sold you?”
    “Two.” Peter sniffed and rubbed the end of his nose.
    “Did he have more?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Did he have a pack or bag on him?”
    “I don’t know.” Irritation leaked into the teen’s voice. “I didn’t search him.”
    The lawyer showed the cops his palm. “Chief, my client has already told you he doesn’t know. Can we move on?”
    Zane gave Seth a do-you-want-a-crack-at-him? look.
    With a nod, Seth jumped in. “What are you doing up at the construction site?”
    “Just grunt work, emptying trash cans, raking up, moving supplies, that kind of stuff.”
    Peter’s head swung toward Seth. The kid’s jaw clamped tight, and sweat stained the underarms of his T-shirt. Seth could smell the boy’s anxiety. A good time to push a few buttons. “You work there every day?”
    The boy’s head nodded in a jerky movement. “Eight a.m. to noon, Monday through Friday.”
    “O’Rourke Properties fired your dad, didn’t they?” Seth let a zinger fly. “Something about below-par work.”
    “That’s total bullshit. They just don’t want to pay him.” Peter’s voice rose. Bitterness pinched his face. “I guess now they’ll fire me too.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    The kid’s body snapped straight. Anger lit his eyes. “I’m missing work, and the foreman’s a dick. He’s always looking for a reason to fire anybody. Plus, there’s gonna be less work as construction winds down.”
    “So you rode your ATV home from work. Then what did you do?” Seth prodded.
    “I took a shower, had lunch.”
    “Weren’t you eager to try this new drug?”
    “I was hungry.”
    “Had you ever tried it before?”
    Peter shook his head.
    “What made you want to try it now?”
    The teen lifted a shoulder and avoided eye contact. Classic tells. “I dunno. Everybody has been talking about it.”
    Seth changed the topic. “Where was your dad on Thursday, Peter?”
    “He had a job to bid on up by Portland. He stayed overnight.”
    “Do you drink alcohol, Peter?” Seth asked.
    The kid stared at the table. He picked at a thumbnail.
    He’s deciding what’s believable. Seth waited.
    Peter raised a shoulder. “Sure, I’ve had a few beers here and there.”
    Seth bet the kid probably drank considerably more than that. “How do you get beer?”
    “Mostly kids take it from their parents.”
    “You ever take your old man’s beer?”
    “Once or twice.”
    “I did that once. My dad beat the crap out of me. Did your old man ever catch you, Peter?”
    The teen’s head shake was almost imperceptible. “My dad’s not much of a drinker. He’ll buy beer for a holiday or a party, then forget about it.”
    And that, Seth bet, was Peter’s only truthful statement of the interview.
    The guard took Peter back to his pod . They didn’t use the term cell in juvenile detection, but the steel door closing behind the kid sounded just as scary and permanent.
    “What do you think?” Zane asked a few minutes later as they headed toward the exit.
    “Lying through his perfect teeth.” Seth pushed through the exterior door. The midday heat enveloped him as if he’d walked into a kiln.
    Zane wiped a forearm across his brow. “You think everyone is lying.”
    “That’s because most of the people we interrogate are guilty.” Seth took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie.
    “I agree with you on this one.” Zane cast a worried eye at the horizon.
    Seth followed his gaze. Thick, black clouds hung heavy over the hills. Thunderstorms in the Pacific Northwest were extremely rare. “Are those storm clouds?”
    “Why not?” Zane turned toward his police cruiser. “Everything else about this summer is fucked up.”
    “Zane, I’d question that kid again. He started out all sure of himself, but he’s getting the picture. He’s in way over his head.” Seth opened his car door to let