Melinda's Wolves

by Becca Jameson

  “It doesn’t look right.” Keegan’s muttered voice was more to himself than her.

  “Okay, babe. So let’s look around.” She felt the same ominous vibe as Monday, but nothing about it had increased to make her concern heighten. Whatever Keegan was seeing or sensing, she had no idea. But she sure wasn’t one to question.

  Still holding her hand, tighter now, Keegan stepped closer until they stood at the very edge of the foundation. His gaze darted to the left and then the right. “Damn.”

  “What?” Her heart beat faster at his obvious stress.

  He pointed to a fork lift on one side. “See that lift?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s not going to work without tires.”

  Sure enough, it was flush against the ground, the wheels nowhere in sight.

  His finger trailed to another spot. “That beam on the ground was erected yesterday.” And then he angled to the right. “Somebody has taken a sledgehammer to that pile of two-by-fours. They weren’t broken in half when I left here last night.”

  “God.” She squeezed his hand tighter, unsure if her goal was to comfort him or herself.

  “Can your spirits do this? Like a warning?” He swiveled to face her.

  She shook her head. “Not usually, no. It’s unlikely. I think you have some human involvement here. The spirits can, however, warn about danger, human or natural.” Had this been why the black smoke had coalesced for their view in the night?

  “You should go, honey.” He abruptly pulled her away from the construction, tugging her by the arm toward their cars.

  “I’m fine, Keegan. I don’t feel anything imminent. What you need to do is call the sheriff and report this damage. Somebody’s trying to make a statement here, and it will be impossible to know if they mean harm or simply aren’t in favor of the casino. Either way, this isn’t safe.”

  He nodded. “I will. Right away. You go to work.”

  She eyed him. “How did the tables turn so abruptly since Monday?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked as he opened her car door.

  “You would have given your right arm to keep me by your side. Now you want to get rid of me as if I have a disease.”

  He smiled, though it was forced, and leaned down to kiss her distractedly. “Hon, I want you safe. Monday I still thought you were sort of full of shit. Now I know differently. Monday we didn’t have a dead guy on our hands who may have sent me an email to warn me about the builders. If that email turns out to be from our dead guy, we’re really going to be in trouble.”

  Melinda eased into the driver’s seat. “I’ll go to work, but promise me you’ll stay in contact all day. Call me when you can. Keep me posted mentally when you have a second.”

  “I will.” He kissed her lips, lingering a bit, and then leaned back to shut her door.

  She watched him out of the rearview mirror until he was out of sight.

  Keegan never moved from his spot, his gaze on her car the entire time.

  •●•

  Two hours later, the site was crawling with reservation deputies and employees. The first three obvious things Keegan noticed turned into about a dozen oddities before he was done making his rounds.

  Now, he stood in the conference room in the trailer with his boss, Mitch Highland, and Corbin Archers from the local sheriff’s office.

  “How’s your mate?” Mitch asked politely.

  “Okay. Worried.”

  Mitch nodded.

  Corbin pulled out a chair. “That’s right. You mated with Miles’s sister Melinda, right?”

  “Yep.” Keegan smiled as he took a seat across from Corbin.

  “And one of the Masters also? Did I hear that right?”

  “You did indeed.”

  “Crazy. What’s with those Masters boys anyway? I don’t know whether to be jealous, applaud their virility, or thank God I don’t have a mate I have to share with another man for the rest of my life.”

  Keegan tried to chuckle, but it was tough under the circumstances. He shuffled papers in front of him and cleared his throat.

  Before he could say a word, someone knocked lightly on the door and then opened it. Trace stepped in. “Sorry to interrupt. I could hear you three talking in here, so I let myself in.” The look on his face was serious, more than Keegan could remember seeing in recent history.

  “Come on in.” Keegan pointed to the remaining free chair. “I take it this isn’t a social visit and you just wanted to see where I worked.” He gave Trace a flat grin that didn’t tip far enough at the edges to match the light banter he tried to express.

  “Nope. Sorry.” Trace set a file on the table and opened it as he took a seat. “Unfortunately we’ve determined that Nolan Friedmont was indeed the man who sent you the email last week. As of now, the Cambridge sheriff’s office will be working in conjunction with the Sojourn sheriff’s office to get to the bottom of this.”

  “And you’ve been sent over to get the ball rolling,” Corbin commented as he reached for the file. At the last second he lifted a hand. “Corbin Archers. I’ll be heading up things from our end.”

  Trace took his hand. “Nice to meet you. Trace Masters.”

  Corbin’s eyes widened. “Ah. So you’re Keegan’s other half. I was just commenting on the mysterious ménages in your family.” Corbin winked.

  Keegan knew he meant them no ill. He was simply shocked.

  “I don’t think I’d describe myself as Keegan’s other half. More like a third.” He narrowed his gaze at Corbin and tipped his head. “We, uh, share Melinda, not each other,” he finished.

  Corbin licked his lips and nodded. “Of course. Sorry. It’s none of my business really.”

  Keegan rolled his eyes. “Archers. No worries. It’s not a secret. We aren’t bi. We simply share our mate.” If Keegan wasn’t mistaken, Corbin was a little fidgety. He shook the thought from his head as if Melinda’s ability to read people was rubbing off on him.

  “Got it.”

  Mitch leaned forward with an outstretched hand. “Mitch Highland. Keegan’s boss. Nice to finally meet you.” He sat back and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s cut to the chase. What do we know about Mr. Friedmont? And what do we do next?”

  Trace stacked several pages together. “Unfortunately, according to Keegan, all evidence would suggest the man was spot on with his accusations.”

  Mitch nodded.

  Trace continued. “I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist to determine someone was paying Friedmont to keep his mouth shut. It’s not even questionable why someone killed him. His bank records indicate he was paid an exorbitant amount of money from an unknown source for fifteen months. The deposits to his bank account stopped two months ago. Maybe he knew something he shouldn’t. Maybe he even blackmailed someone to keep quiet. That somebody may have gotten tired of paying or ran out of funds while the project was on hold.”

  “Surely Friedmont would have known his life was as good as toasted if he ratted them out. Who knew about his email? And why is the man sitting in the Cambridge morgue?” Corbin asked.

  “Agreed.” Keegan looked at Trace. “I’m gonna suggest we need to keep this under wraps for now. We have to assume the developer is involved. Until we know more, we’re treading on thin ice. Templeton Construction is a huge developer. They have more than fifty men in the upper echelon of their company. It’s going to be tough to ferret out who was paying Friedmont and why they decided to end his existence.”

  Mitch blew out a breath. “So, we’re going to assume the builder has to be involved.”

  Corbin nodded. “I don’t see who else it could be. Templeton would have been the one to want to cut corners. They stood to gain quite the financial boon in doing so. They couldn’t have done anything without somebody beneath them covering it up. And they easily would have gotten away with it if not for the earthquake, the rise of building standards, and the subsequent discovery that protocol hadn�
��t been followed in the first place.”

  “Has anyone looked into other recent properties by the same builder?” Corbin asked.

  “On it,” Trace said. “But the list is long. Templeton Construction is an enormous company. It’s going to take some time to investigate completed projects for shoddy practices.”

  “Any of them local?” Corbin asked.

  Keegan shivered. If he was the inspector on any project in this area that shouldn’t have received his stamp of approval after the earthquake, he could be in a heap of personal trouble.

  “No idea yet.”

  “So, you think someone simply killed Friedmont to get him out of their hair?” Mitch asked.

  Trace nodded. “Either that or they knew about the email. For now, we have to hope and assume the developer didn’t know the guy turned this information over to Keegan.

  “It could be a coincidence. If whoever was being blackmailed by Friedmont stopped paying, the man might have gotten nervous and sloppy and decided to get back at his financer by turning him in. If the man in any way threatened the developer or gave any indication he was antsy, these guys are rich enough to have him eliminated without blinking an eye.”

  Keegan agreed. But his unease that had been growing all day—ever since that damn black shadow decided to visit his bedroom in the dead of night—increased tenfold.

  Mitch read his mind. “I think we need to operate under the assumption whoever killed Nolan Friedmont knows about the email. Which makes all of us moving targets now by default. Whoever it is could have dozens of eyes on us as we speak. There could be moles within the construction crew even.”

  Trace looked at Mitch. “You’re right. We need to be diligent. Nobody should be at this site alone at any time. Work in groups. I wouldn’t even drive to and from here alone. It’s too risky. For now, I’ll start coming with Keegan.”

  “I’ll pick up Mitch,” Corbin said. “We don’t live far apart.”

  Mitch furrowed his brow. “I’m not too keen about leaving my mate and the kids alone either.” He glanced at Keegan.

  Keegan suddenly felt the sting of that insinuation. He held up a finger to hold everyone at bay a second while he checked on Melinda. “You okay, hon? Did you make it to the shop?”

  “Yep. It’s all good. The girls are teasing me relentlessly in between customers. I need to do an inventory this afternoon. I might be late.”

  “Nope,” Trace interrupted. “You need to have someone in the shop with you at all times today. At least until one of us comes to get you. Got it?”

  “Okay, caveman. Are you two together?”

  “We are,” Keegan added.

  “I take it things aren’t going well.”

  “Not particularly,” Trace communicated. “And I don’t want you taking any chances until we catch whoever killed the man we found by the lake.”

  “Got it.”

  “We’re serious,” Keegan said. He didn’t know Melinda well enough to be sure she would obey their “caveman” attempt, and he cringed inwardly to think she might simply placate them. “And don’t talk about this to anyone. If anything happened to you…”

  “I’m fine, Keegan. Nothing’s going to happen to me. I won’t leave the shop. I’ll make sure one of the girls is here with me. Promise.”

  Keegan blew out a breath and met Trace’s gaze across the table. When he turned to Mitch, he found his boss with a similar glaze over his eyes. The man was communicating with his mate also.

  Corbin chuckled. “Everybody got their woman on the same page now?”

  Keegan shook his head. “You laugh all you want, Archers. Payback’s a bitch.” The second Corbin bit the dust, Keegan intended to be on him relentlessly.

  Keegan stood. “Listen, I’ve got about ten thousand things that need my attention, so if you’ll excuse me.” He turned to Trace. “Make yourself at home. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll make sure my people know you both have the green light to snoop around anywhere you feel the need.”

  Corbin stood next. “I’m pretty sure our uniforms speak for themselves. People don’t usually give a man with a badge and a gun much trouble.”

  “He’s got a point, Keegan.” Trace gathered all the papers back and stuffed them in his file. “Go do inspector stuff. We’ll comb the site.”

  •●•

  Trace popped his head into Keegan’s office that afternoon to find him leaning on his elbows, staring at his computer screen, hands threaded into his hair. It had come loose from the usual ponytail he wore and hung around his shoulders. “You okay?”

  Keegan jumped in his chair, grabbing his mouse and clicking the button several times while he answered. “Yep. All good.”

  Trace narrowed his gaze and came fully into the room. “Not buying it. What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing new.” Keegan sat back, but his hands were shaking as he set them on his thighs.

  Trace hesitated and then decided he must be overreacting to the general stress. If Keegan had some new issue to discuss, he would do so.

  “I’m going to get Melinda.”

  Keegan smiled, a forced upturn of his lips Trace had never seen. “Good. She’s gonna be pissed if you make her leave her car at work.”

  “Yeah, but I guess it’s my turn to be on the receiving end of her wrath. You usually get the brunt of it.”

  “You going home?”

  “Thought we’d come back here first. That okay?”

  Keegan tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling as if it might provide answers. “Don’t.” He lowered his gaze. “I hate to say this, but I don’t think it’s safe here. Maybe it would be better if we didn’t flaunt our involvement with each other or with Melinda for now.”

  “Pardon.” Trace grabbed the back of the chair opposite Keegan’s desk and squeezed. “Since when are you the type to keep your relationship with us a secret?”

  “Since a guy is dead and he sent me an email the day before he died that might have caused me to become an accomplice to his plan to take this casino down.”

  Trace nodded. He agreed wholeheartedly with his mate. There was every chance he could be targeted if whoever killed Friedmont found out Keegan knew everything about the under-the-table dealings that had gone on for the entire first year of construction. “I’ll take her home.” Trace turned to leave but stopped in the doorway to look back. “You aren’t fooling me, by the way. I’ll cut you some slack for now because I know you’re busy, but whatever you blacked out on that screen better come up in our next conversation this evening.”

  Keegan’s shoulders slumped. He nodded, not saying a word.

  Trace left, a feeling of unease making him look in every direction as he headed for his car. He was in uniform. That often bought him a safety net, but not always. People killed deputies every day for lesser offenses than knowing too much about a crime.

  •●•

  Keegan blew out a breath and grabbed his cell phone.

  Two minutes later, Mitch entered his office, shut the door behind himself, and took a seat in the hideous plastic chair that invited no one to make themselves at home.

  “Got an email.”

  “Another one?”

  Keegan turned his screen around and let Mitch see for himself. For now he didn’t want to share with Trace or Melinda. Hell, he didn’t want to share with Corbin. That was why he called Mitch.

  Keegan and Mitch went back many years. He thought of the man as family. And he trusted him with his life.

  Not that he didn’t trust Trace. They’d been like brothers for nearly their entire lives, but Trace was a cop now. He had obligations that extended past friendship. Only Mitch could understand what Keegan was up against and react in a manner appropriate for his position.

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah.”

  Mitch ran a hand through his hair. “Who knows about this?”

  “You.”

  Mitch lifted one eyebrow. “I just saw Trace leave your office.”

&nbs
p; Keegan nodded. “You did.”

  “And you didn’t tell him?”

  “No.”

  A deep inhale preceded Mitch closing his eyes. “We’re in over our heads.”

  “Well, I am. You aren’t yet.”

  He looked up. “We’re a team, you and I. Hell, I’m your boss.”

  Keegan nodded. “Maybe it would be better if you weren’t so obviously involved. Clearly someone knows I was the recipient of an email from Nolan Friedmont. That doesn’t mean they need to realize you know about it.”

  Mitch shook his head. “We’re in this together. Not going to leave you hanging out to dry on this. We have to tell the authorities.”

  “I know.” Keegan leaned on his elbows again, putting his forehead in his palms. “I was hoping you would talk me out of it. Buy me some time.”

  “You need to send Melinda away.”

  Keegan lifted his head. That thought hadn’t occurred to him. But it was a good plan.

  “Maybe have Trace take her somewhere for a while, until this situation is resolved.”

  Keegan chuckled. “Right. You don’t know my mates.”

  Mitch nodded. “Yeah. Good point. Serena would no sooner be told what to do than eat dirt for dinner. I hear ya.”

  “Nolan Friedmont is dead for knowing this shit.”

  “Maybe he got himself dead for something else?”

  “I’ve been hoping that, but this email implies the sender is well aware I know what the builder did.” Keegan shuddered. His head pounded. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

  “You need to get out of here. Go home. Spend the evening with your mates. Get the Cambridge sheriff’s office involved. I’m sure they would send a man out to the house for the night or at least do several drive-bys.”

  A loud crash outside brought Keegan to his feet. He followed Mitch out of the trailer and lifted his hand to block the late afternoon sun as the two of them scanned the area to see what happened.

  Braden ran past them. “Someone fell into a pit,” he yelled over his shoulder.

  “What was the crashing sound?” Keegan asked, coming up beside the foreman at a jog.

  “A section of framework.”