Melinda’s Wolves(69)

Trace glanced around the room. His boss was already gone for the day. Besides, Trace really wanted to talk to Keegan before he spoke to Bergman. There was no longer any doubt in Trace’s mind that as soon as he got someone to go over and search the computer in Nolan Friedmont’s home, he’d find a recent email sent to the one and only Keegan Phillips.

The idea made his skin crawl. If someone killed Friedmont because he ratted out the developer, Keegan’s life was in more danger than Trace had alluded earlier.

•●•

It was after dark before Melinda parked in Keegan’s driveway behind Trace. She watched Trace climb down from his black truck in front of her.

She had no idea what propelled her to stay at the station so long with Trace. At any point she could have insisted she needed to go home. But he’d been so tense and intent she hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Plus, she got the vibe he might need her calming presence at his back as he worked.

She wondered if he always got so stressed and focused or if the research over that particular man found dead earlier in the day made him inordinately tense.

Keegan’s immaculate white truck was already in the driveway, and he opened the front door to greet them as Melinda climbed the two steps to the porch.

Keegan immediately pulled her into his embrace and buried his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply, his hand cupping her ass. “Missed you.”

She lifted her chin for a quick kiss.

“Did you miss me too?” Trace asked, chuckling.

“Eh. Not as much.”

Trace gave Keegan a shove as they entered the house.

Melinda moaned. “God, it smells good in here. What are you cooking? I’m starving.” She hadn’t eaten since the sandwiches Trace ordered for lunch.

After the most boring day of her life, she needed food and sleep. Doing nothing made a person very tired.

She also needed to let these brutes know her days of trailing them around were over. She intended to go back to work tomorrow whether they liked it or not.

“Stir fry.” Keegan tugged her into the kitchen by the hand while he spoke to Trace. “What happened to you today? You were in such deep concentration I couldn’t get a single read on you.” He released her to grab a spatula and push around the contents of a steaming wok.

She almost moaned at the beauty of his cooking.

Melinda didn’t know what Trace had been so deeply engrossed in all day either. Trace hadn’t shared. She suspected his attention was focused on the dead guy found by the lake, but he also could have changed his focus to another case at some point. She had no idea.

She had been beyond curious all day, but no way in hell would she have interrupted Trace’s intense concentration. Thank God for her Kindle.

Trace washed his hands at the kitchen sink and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He offered it to Melinda with a lift of his eyebrows, but when she shook her head, he twisted off the top and slumped into one of the dining chairs. He seemed to be gearing up. Stalling. Finally, he spoke. “A body was found this morning not far from your construction site.”

“Shit.” Keegan stopped moving and swiveled to face Trace. “Seriously?”

“Nolan Friedmont. And yes. I found out a lot about him.”

Keegan set down his spatula and padded toward Trace. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”

“You aren’t. I think he may have sent your anonymous email.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. That was my reaction.” Trace took a long swig from his bottle. “I don’t have any proof yet. It’s a hunch. He worked under the foreman on the casino site for several months before the earthquake. We’re waiting for some guys to get into his computer and check his outgoing email.”

“Shit. That’s fucking serious. If someone killed him for ratting out the shoddy construction on the casino, we’ve got a huge problem on our hands.”

“You’ve got a huge problem on your hands no matter what,” Melinda interrupted, her blood boiling with fear. “I told you yesterday I had a bad feeling about that place.” She shivered just thinking about it. “The site gave me the creeps. Bad things have happened there. And more is coming.” They needed to listen to her.

Keegan turned off the burner and carried the wok to the center of the table. “I hate to admit this, but you may be right.”

She stiffened and crossed her arms under her chest. “Why is it so hard for you to believe I might have some precognitive abilities?” It infuriated her that she had to keep explaining herself to these two, especially Keegan. And she suspected his job was no longer safe, which made her even more frustrated and downright angry. He needed to heed her advice before he got himself killed.