The First Death (Columbia River, #4)(8)

Relief shot through her. “That’s fantastic.” Then anger took over. “That asshole,” she spit out. “He tried to lie his way through it for a few days?”

“He did. Claimed he’d been at his gym when he was actually out driving around looking for Wyatt. He’d seen the boy dart out the back door but was too busy choking his wife to pursue him until later.” Rage flared in Evan’s eyes. “I don’t know what he planned to do when he found the boy. I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Where is Wyatt now?”

“He’s staying with Summer’s sister, who has two boys around his age. She and her husband will try to adopt the boy if it’s legally possible because it’s doubtful Jensen will get out of prison before Wyatt is an adult. They seem like a good family.”

“A happy ending,” said Rowan, immediately regretting her words. “Not happy,” she revised, “but the outcome could have been much worse.”

“Definitely.” Evan shoved his hands in his pockets and looked past her. “Thor’s looking good.”

Rowan glanced back to see Lily and Thor in a rough game of tug-of-war, Lily shrieking with laughter.

“He’s doing well. Happy and full of energy like always.”

“I knew he’d find Wyatt.”

Rowan smiled and met Evan’s gaze. And blinked.

Something has changed.

His eyes were calm. No hints of brooding or painful baggage. Even the strain that had always been around his mouth was mostly gone.

Maybe he met someone. Good for him.

A tiny pang of regret echoed in her chest. It was her own fault. She should have asked the detective out when she had a chance. But the moments had always felt wrong. They worked together very well, and she had been hesitant to do something that could affect it.

I’m meant to be a woman who just has dogs.

The corner of her mouth quirked. She’d always suspected that would be her fate. A disastrous, brief marriage nearly a decade ago had kept her firmly in favor of being single.

But it didn’t mean she didn’t like to look. And date. And enjoy the men who came and went in her life.

Her life didn’t suck. It was pretty damn good.

She turned to look at Thor, the only man in her life at the moment.

“When you watch your dog, you look like a proud parent,” Evan said. “My sister looks at her kids the same way.”

“I heard something about a fire at your sister’s home recently?” Rowan asked.

“Yeah. Mainly ruined furniture and smoke damage.”

“Her husband was hurt?”

Evan shifted uncomfortably. “It wasn’t the fire that injured him, but he’s home and doing really well. My niece and nephew stayed with me for a while. Great kids.” His face lit up as he mentioned them. “The family is starting an animal rescue on their acreage.”

“Good for them,” said Rowan, enjoying the happiness on the detective’s face. “I appreciate you stopping by to tell me about Geoff Jensen.”

Evan grew serious. “I had another reason.”

Rowan waited. The detective appeared to be putting his thoughts in order, and her curiosity grew.

“I was called to a scene this morning, and there was no ID with the body, but the lock screen on the victim’s cell phone is a group picture.” He paused, a sympathetic look on his face. “I think you’re in the picture.”

Her lungs stopped.

Who is it?

Her mind raced through a dozen people, her anxiety growing as friends’ faces streamed through her mind. “Let me see it.”

Evan pulled a phone out of his pocket. “I took my own photo of the lock screen.” He touched the face of his phone, dragged his finger to enlarge something, and handed her the device.

She took it with damp, unsteady hands. She instantly recognized the photo. It’d been taken after a canine search and rescue training session the summer before. These people were her close friends.

Who died?

“The victim is the guy with the gray beard in the center.”

Rowan shut her eyes.

Ken. No!

Her heart cracked into a dozen pieces. Ken had found her when she and her brother had been kidnapped twenty-five years before. It was because of him that she worked in search and rescue. He’d been her mentor and close friend.

This isn’t happening.

She opened her eyes, blinking away the instant tears. “His name is Ken Steward.” Her voice shook, and she took several deep breaths. “He was a good man. The absolute best. What happened to him?”

“All you need to know is that he probably died instantly. No pain.”

Fury made her vision narrow. “Don’t give me that mitigated informing-the-friends-and-family shit. Tell me what happened.”

Evan looked away, a struggle on his face. “He was shot. Two in the head, one in the chest. He was found in a camping tent off a Forest Service road.”

Rowan stared at Evan, horror flooding her. “That sounds like something you see on a TV show. An assassination.” She wished she hadn’t asked. Her brain was graphically filling in details.

“It does. I suspect he was asleep. There are no defensive wounds as if he’d held up a hand to block a shot, and he appeared undisturbed in his sleeping bag.”