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answered his question about how deeply she was involved in this case. Obviously she planned to dig that hole as deep as possible, and then go looking for a bigger shovel. Or maybe a backhoe.
    He put aside his anger and got on with the interview. His son had already confessed, and Alex was cooperative. He answered Seth’s questions in a numb state of disbelief. He didn’t know anything about his son’s drug use. Peter’s friends’ parents had been clueless about their own kids as well, but Seth had found that parents were often the last to know. Teenagers were regular magicians. They found the most creative places to hide their stashes.
    The local police had already searched Peter’s room. They hadn’t found anything. Seth gave it a once-over anyway but came up empty. He took a list of Peter’s friends on his way out.
    On Seth’s agenda for tomorrow: interview Peter Rollins and Russ Warner at the juvenile detention facility. Right now he had to drive back to the county sheriff’s office in Hannon, where he’d update the sheriff and deputies on the drug situation here in Solitude.
    Frustration simmered in his chest at the waste of his afternoon. He could be interviewing the list of parents in his hands instead of liaising. Seth was used to being a detective. Half of his new job was driving back and forth to different law enforcement agencies and filling out paperwork. He didn’t have much time for actual investigating. Facilitating the flow of information was important. Law enforcement didn’t stand a chance in this drug war unless agencies worked together. But did it have to be him?
    He crossed the bridge that marked the boundary of Solitude. Below the bridge, the water of the Rogue River churned over rocks. Farther downstream, where the new resort was located, the river was calmer, with long pools of quiet water and some of the best salmon fishing in the area. Upstream, Class II and III rapids brought kayakers from all over the country. A kayaker paddled under the bridge, resting his oar across his knees and seemingly enjoying the quiet water.
    How long had it been since Seth had spent a day on the river? He and Carly used to fly-fish together, afternoons that often led to finding a secluded spot and enjoying a little outdoor nookie. Those days were gone. They’d had Brianna, and both their careers had become demanding. No more time for any letting-nature-take-its-course-type activities.
    The air conditioner of his county cruiser blew a pathetic stream of lukewarm air at Seth’s chest. He headed for the county seat forty-five minutes away.
    Had Carly been sent to talk to Alex Rollins, or had she volunteered? It didn’t matter. Seth knew his wife. She wouldn’t leave this case alone. Alex Rollins was only the first among many. If Carly thought Russ Warner was innocent, she wouldn’t rest until she proved it. Seth had to find the dealer before she nosed her way any further into this case. Her job could be rough, but drug dealers were a whole new level of danger.

    At four o’clock Carly parked in front of Loretta Warner’s small house. The burned-out shell of a barn sat out back. Woods ringed three sides of the property. In the narrow dirt driveway, Loretta’s beaten Taurus listed to the left. Carly rapped on the front door. No one answered. She knocked again, harder.
    “Loretta, I know you’re in there.”
    The door swung open. Loretta stood on the other side of the torn screen door. One hand held a lit cigarette. The other was fisted and propped on her hip. Still in her miniskirt and baby T, but she’d ditched the platform sandals. “What do you want?”
    “I want to talk about Russ.”
    “Didn’t we do that already?” She blew a stream of smoke in Carly’s face.
    Carly didn’t react. She’d had worse. “Can I come in?”
    “I guess,” Loretta huffed, then turned and walked away.
    Carly opened the screen door and followed her into the house. Smoke barely cloaked the sharp scent of cat pee.