“You guys okay?” Bergman asked.
The elderly man left the room, mumbling something about coffee.
“Give me the short version,” Bergman stated in a low enough voice no one else could overhear from the kitchen or outside.
Keegan came to Melinda, zipping up his jeans, and held her close.
She listened as Trace spoke. “Someone wanted us very dead. You’ll find his body out back.”
“And why will I find a man burned by his own fire exactly?”
“I’d be happy to explain it to you, but it isn’t part of the short version. Nor would you be able to put a word of it in your report. Some other day. We’ll have you over for dinner and give you the rundown.”
Bergman turned to look out the window. “I’m not sure I want to come to your place for dinner.” He was chuckling as he faced them once again. And then he sobered. “You should know, we arrested a man named Roy Steinmetz earlier this evening. He happens to be one of the upper echelon at Templeton Construction. He got sloppy, and we caught him tampering with the casino site after everyone had left.”
Melinda’s shoulders relaxed marginally at this announcement. “That’s good news, right?”
“Could be,” Bergman said, turning to face her.
“But then who is that asshole in my backyard?” Keegan asked.
“I’m going with Wayne Lassiter. The two men were partners. They worked together. We’ve been looking for him for several hours. He hasn’t been home, and his wife says she has no idea where he is.”
“Let’s hope that’s him. Keeps our tax dollars lower when we don’t have to prosecute dead people.” Trace pointed outside. “Looks like Wayne burned in his own personal hell. How about we send the other one to burn in a different kind of hell?”
“Yeah, like alone in a jail cell on death row.” Bergman stuffed his unused pad of paper in his pocket and turned toward the door. “Watch your backs. It seems someone wants you three a little bit dead. Until we know for sure we have rounded up all the suspects, be diligent.”
Chapter Thirty
Keegan couldn’t get enough to eat. He’d never been so hungry in his life. He leaned over his plate, shoveling in scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and hash browns so fast his shaky arm was a blur in front of his face.
When he glanced up, he found Melinda grinning, her elbows on the table, her chin resting on one palm. “Hungry?”
He growled and continued.
Trace’s parents had graciously taken the three of them in when they’d finally been able to leave Keegan’s burned house in the wee hours of the morning. Carlie and Adam Masters were absolutely awesome.
Carlie stood at the stove cooking as fast as she could to keep up with the extra hungry wolves who’d descended—one of whom hadn’t eaten in two days. She chuckled as she returned to the table and set another enormous platter of food in the middle.
The steam brought the scent of sausage to Keegan’s nose, making him moan again. “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked Melinda through a mouthful of pancake.
“I did. You missed it. I ate a normal plate of food while you were consuming an entire pig there.” She giggled, pointing at his plate.
Carlie picked up Keegan’s glass. “More orange juice?”
“Please.”
Melinda grew serious, her face falling so that her brows furrowed. “Are you doing okay?”
He frowned, finally deciding he had enough food and setting his fork down to lean back in the chair. “Yeah. Why?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you were in a serious accident. You spent two days scaring the hell out of me. Your house just burned to the ground. Oh, and I don’t think you any longer have a job.”
He smiled. “Hon. I’m fine.” He pointed down at his body. “All mended. My house is just a pile of possessions we can replace. And I didn’t lose my job at all. I just won’t likely return to that site. You should be glad. You hated that casino.” He leaned forward to stroke a hand down her face. “All that matters to me is right under this roof.”
Trace wandered in. He’d been on the phone in the den for the last hour. The sheriff’s office was buzzing with insanity, but Sheriff Bergman had forbidden Trace from entering the precinct.
Keegan turned toward Trace, his blood draining from his head at the expression on Trace’s face.
Trace pulled out a chair across from Keegan and Melinda.
“What happened? You look like you saw a ghost.”
Melinda punched him. “Hey, don’t make light of that idea. I’ve seen a few ghostly figures lately that were deadly serious.”