“What is it?”
“What it is—is empty.” Keegan turned it over. Not a single paper was inside. He thumbed through the rest of the files and found four others like it. All suspiciously involved in the building materials aspect of the site.
Mitch looked in the drawer and furrowed his brow. “This can’t be good.”
“Exactly. And my question is when did these files disappear? They were there last week. I’ve only been assigned to this job a few weeks, but I would have noticed if any of the files were missing. And so far I’ve found nothing in the computer to back up the files. Surely these weren’t the only copies.”
“Shit.” Mitch righted himself and paced the office again. It was becoming a habit. The man was worried, and he often nervously paced around, running his hand through his hair. “Maybe someone else has the files for some reason?”
“Who would that be?”
Mitch shrugged. “No idea, but I can’t stomach the alternative.”
“Me either.” Keegan leaned back in his chair.
“How about if I work on locating the previous inspector while you continue combing the files? We need to find someone who knows what happened.”
“Good plan.” Keegan exhaled a long breath as he turned back to the file cabinet.
Mitch headed around the desk to the other side and opened his computer.
Thank God Keegan wasn’t dealing with this insanity by himself. Even though he usually preferred to work alone, having his boss around in this case was a relief.
Chapter Nineteen
Trace watched his mate from across the room as she tipped her head back and laughed at something his boss said to her.
Under normal circumstances he would be jealous, but there was nothing normal about this arrangement. Chief Bergman knew the score. Most of the detectives on the force were human. But Terrance Bergman was not.
The second Melinda arrived at the station that afternoon, Bergman had grinned. Without a word, he slapped Trace on the shoulder and muttered words of congratulations. No way would the man even come close to hitting on Melinda.
And besides, the pheromones Melinda emitted were strictly reserved for Trace and Keegan. It was Nature’s way. His woman smelled fantastic, but that scent would only attract her mates. No one else would find it so intoxicating.
When she’d stepped into the station in a short sundress, a sweater slung over her arm, his jaw dropped. The dress was sexy as hell, and he liked knowing he had easy access to what lay beneath. But he also nearly groaned with the knowledge that her pussy was wet and silky and so easily accessible.
“Since when do you have a serious girlfriend?” The teasing voice from behind Trace made him turn his head. Mark—a human guy he’d worked with on several projects for the last year—had his gaze on Melinda, appraising her from top to bottom.
If the man had been lupine, Trace would have slammed him into the wall and taken a chunk out of him by gouging his face. But Mark knew nothing of their species, so Trace swallowed his displeasure and responded amicably. “A while.” The vague answer would suffice. Especially since Mark still hadn’t taken his eyes off Melinda long enough to glance at Trace. Why on earth human men accepted such blatantly disrespectful behavior was beyond him. But he’d witnessed it his entire life. It seemed as though men thought it was a compliment to their fellow brethren if they openly admired their women as though they were a fine piece of ass.
“She’s hot.” Finally he grinned at Trace. “You stud.”
Trace narrowed his gaze, not returning the smile. In nearly every encounter with regular human population, it was possible for shifters to keep themselves in check. After all, it was important to the survival of their species. But Trace had never had to deal with someone hitting on his mate before. Or ogling her. Or even thinking about hitting on or ogling her.
It didn’t sit well. Trace fought to control his desire to punch the guy. “You can stop drooling over her now. She’s taken.” Claimed.
“Taken? You can’t possibly have known her that long. I’ve never seen her before.” He jerked his gaze back to Melinda. “That long black hair must be like spun silk running through your fingers.”
It was. And the fury Trace felt rose to a new level. “You’ll never know.”
Mark turned back again, chuckling. He set a file he held on the edge of Trace’s desk. “Relax, man. I’m playin’ with you.” He cocked his head to one side and narrowed his gaze. “You must really be into her. How long did you say you’ve been dating?”
“Long enough.”
“That sounds serious.”