•●•
Wayne held up his binoculars and watched the scene unfolding in front of him with a giant grin. “Bingo.” Finally.
He’d never been as relieved as the moment he watched that meddling asshole fall into the deep pile of debris. No one could survive such an accident. Except two of the men had.
Luckily the other two were still buried. And one of them was Keegan Phillips. Hopefully they stayed that way or got pulled out to be put in body bags.
As soon as the slate was cleared of all those involved in halting the completion of this project, Wayne would breathe a sigh of relief. It worked out perfectly that Keegan believed all the strange accidents on the site had been caused by subpar construction.
As soon as he started making his rounds to investigate every possible section of the construction site, Wayne realized how easy it would be to eliminate Phillips. And it had gone off perfectly.
The sheriff’s office and the FBI would eventually write this situation off as a result of the earthquake and get out of town. He wasn’t worried about them.
His only concern was Phillips. And hopefully he’d just been eliminated. Phillips had pissed Wayne off for the last time.
Eventually, Wayne lowered his binoculars and walked away. He needed to get home before Penelope texted him. The last thing he wanted to do was argue with his wife tonight.
His phone buzzed as he reached his car, and he pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at the caller ID while sliding into the front seat. “What?”
“They just pulled Phillips out of the rubble.”
“Dead?”
“No.”
“Fuck.”
“Though it is possible he won’t live. He was buried deep and looked pretty bad when they put him in the ambulance.”
Wayne gripped his phone tighter and cussed under his breath. “Keep me posted.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Trace grabbed her hand and pulled. “Come on. We’ll follow.” He jogged toward his truck, tugging her in his wake, never letting go.
She let him lead her, wondering if she should drive her own car, while at the same time knowing he would never permit it and not being up for the fight.
Trace yanked open the passenger door and grabbed Melinda by the waist to lift her into the cab. He met her gaze for a second, his brow furrowed with pain—the pain he was in from hours of worrying about Keegan and the pain she was causing him now.
She was certain he couldn’t even feel the ache his knuckles should be causing. They were caked with blood, some of it drying.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but she lowered her face away from his to attach her seatbelt. Two seconds later, he shut her door with a soft snick and rounded the truck at a jog.
Trace sped out of the parking lot, sending a cloud of smoke up behind his tires as they made purchase with the gravel.
Melinda sucked in a breath and held on to the door handle, gripping it to avoid being slammed back and forth as Trace raced out of the parking lot and met up with the back of the ambulance.
He drove too fast. It wasn’t safe. She didn’t care. The same sense of urgency coursed through her veins. If he had gone any slower, she would have screamed.
Besides, he was a cop. He could drive fast if he wanted to. And she knew he had more experience doing so than most regular people.
Neither of them spoke as they raced behind the ambulance. It took ten long minutes to reach the hospital, and Trace said nothing as he pulled up behind the ambulance and let Melinda jump from the cab.
She was grateful for that small token.
“How is he?” she shouted over the engine as the EMT opened the back end.
“Still with us,” the man replied.
“Still unconscious,” the other EMT declared.
Melinda backed out of their way as they lowered the gurney from the ambulance and ran into the emergency entrance.
She followed in their wake, sensing Trace behind her. How had he parked so fast?
And then time stopped.
The door to the emergency room slammed shut, a definitive loud noise that sent a shudder down Melinda’s spine and left her speechless, heaving for a breath and staring at the sealed entrance to a section of the hospital Trace and she would not be able to pass through for quite some time.
Trace took two strides to reach the woman behind the desk. He spoke to her in muted tones while Melinda spun around. The emergency room wasn’t crowded. Only a handful of people sat in the uncomfortable yellow plastic chairs arranged in prefect little rows. Why were emergency rooms so uninviting and sterile? Yellow fiberglass seats?
Melinda padded over to one and lowered herself slowly onto the hard surface. She gripped the sides with her hands. Her heart raced. What she really wanted to do was pace and scream. Her adrenaline was that high.