Melindas Wolves (32 page)

Trace crept up behind her and set his hands on her shoulders.

“He’s been asleep for twenty hours,” she whispered.

“He needed the rest to recuperate,” Trace muttered back. “Come, baby. He’s fine.”

He led her out of the room once more and shut the door behind them with a soft snick.

Melinda’s shoulders slumped.

“Sit.” Trace pointed at the couch. “I’ll grab us a few beers. Maybe a little alcohol will calm your nerves.”

She padded to the sofa and slumped into a corner. “What if the damage is more than he can fix on his own?”

“Baby, Mimi was here for over an hour. She even sat by his side for a while. Don’t you think your grandmother would have known if he was in any imminent danger?”

“You’re right.” She blew out a breath and leaned her head back.

“Griffen called again while I was outside.” Trace stepped in front of her, holding out a dripping bottle.

“How’s the baby?”

“She’s perfect. Cries a lot.” He shrugged. “I guess babies do that.”

“Yep.”

“Maybe I should spend more time over at their house. It would be the perfect incentive to keep from getting you pregnant.” Trace chuckled as he sat next to Melinda and tugged her into his side.

“You’re trying to distract me.”

“Yep. Is it working?”

“Yeah.” She tipped her head back and took a long swallow. “Keep talking. What did Corbin say when you spoke with him?”

Trace winced. “He said they had no luck finding the previous inspector. It seems like he vanished from the face of the Earth.”

“Doesn’t anyone find that odd?”

“They do. But without him, there’s no one to question.”

“None of the workers from last year have known anything?”

“No one yet.” Trace took a long drink and then spoke again. “At least no one that would admit to it.”

“And the builder? Surely whoever was in charge of this project arranged for the materials to be below standard?” Melinda stiffened. The task seemed daunting. They had a dead man and a shit load of mysterious accidents and no one to pin it on.

“Templeton Construction is a huge company. Unfortunately they have so much money, they could have anyone in their back pocket. Hell, they could have the sheriff’s office blackmailed if they wanted. They say they’re looking into the allegations, but no one has shown their face in public except to say their team of lawyers is working on it and they have no comment.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. That’s big business for you. They would have totally covered their tracks.

Hunting down whoever did this will be nearly impossible. Any paper trail has been destroyed. And with the earthquake, they can easily blame everything that occurred lately on an unstable foundation as a result of seismic activity. It’s a mess.” Trace tipped his bottle back for another drink. “My chief, Bergman, doesn’t think there’s much hope.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, especially since the only guy who was willing to rat out the builder is now dead. And every angle we’ve looked into to implicate him has come up short. Even though Friedmont received obviously suspicious monthly payments from an unknown source, the money has proven untraceable.”

“Too bad Nolan Friedmont isn’t the only guy who could have implicated Templeton Construction.” Fear crawled up her spine as she spoke those words out loud.

Neither of them spoke for long minutes.

“Baby, you can’t think like that,” Trace finally muttered. “It’ll drive you crazy.”

“I’m already loony, Trace. And this is serious.”

“Yes. You’re right. I know it. My boss knows it. Hell, Keegan’s boss knows it too.

Everyone is doing everything in their power to ferret out the culprit and get Keegan out of danger.”

“Do they suspect the scaffolding didn’t fall by accident?” Seemed super likely to her.

“There’s no evidence to indicate anything like that yet.”

A knock at the door made Melinda flinch. She gripped her beer bottle tight as Trace stood. Every little noise had her jumpy today.

“Relax, babe. It’s Mitch.”

She glanced at the glass paneling on the front door and saw Mitch standing there while Trace crossed the room and let him in. “Highland.”

“Hey. I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.” He kept his voice low. He had to know Keegan would be sleeping off his trauma in wolf form.

“We’re okay,” Trace said. “Have a seat. You want a beer?”

“No. I can’t stay long. I just wanted to check in. I feel bad for taking as long as I have to get over here.”

Melinda smiled, remembering how sweet his wife was the other night. “I’m sure you’ve had a lot on your plate.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “Don’t I know it?” He perched himself on the edge of an armchair.

“So, what’s the latest?” Trace asked as he sat next to Melinda.

He rubbed his palms on his jeans. “The scaffolding is buried in such a mangled state we may never know for sure why it collapsed.”

Melinda sat up straighter, setting her empty beer bottle on the coffee table. A tingle raced up her spine as if danger was lurking nearby. She stuffed her hands under her thighs to keep from shaking while she watched Mitch and concentrated on what he was saying.

She glanced at the door several times, itching to look outside as if there would be a line of sharpshooters standing in the driveway. Or perhaps a spirit presence.

“…I know, and Keegan is probably the only person who might be able to shed some light on this. Hopefully he can tell the authorities what happened right before the scaffolding collapsed, and hopefully he knows more about the files and where they’re located. Maybe he moved some of the paperwork to go through it,” Mitch was saying.

Somehow Melinda had missed part of the conversation.

Trace wrapped his arm over her shoulders. He didn’t look at her while he communicated with her silently.
“You okay, baby?”

“Not really.”

Mitch continued, oblivious to their side conversation. “Anyway, we’re all hoping Keegan is going to be fine and able to help fill in some of the gaps.”

“Weren’t you working with him?” Melinda asked, confused about the direction of this conversation.

Mitch nodded. “Yes, but we were both taking in different angles. He was the one going through the files.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Trace asked. “Get someone else to go through that cabinet.”

Mitch glanced down, his face unreadable when he looked back up. “They’re gone.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?” Melinda asked. That eerie feeling on the back of her neck spread to the rest of her body.

“The entire cabinet is empty. And I can’t find any backup files on the computer either. It’s as if someone went into the office and wiped the place clean of evidence.” He tapped his leg with his hand. “Unless Keegan removed the files for some reason.”

Melinda’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but then closed it, refusing to give voice to their plight. Was Mitch suggesting Keegan played a role in this crazy farce?

“Why would he do that?”

Mitch shrugged. “It’s just a possibility. The FBI is looking at this from every angle.”

Trace cringed beside her. “And one of those angles is to imply Keegan himself hid evidence and then ten minutes later nearly died in an accident of his own doing?” His voice was incredulous.

Mitch pursed his lips and remained quiet.

Trace jumped to his feet. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Melinda thought he might throttle the messenger. She grabbed his hand and tugged him back.

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just warning you of one of the possibilities the feds are looking into.”

Melinda blinked at Mitch. She didn’t know the man at all, but this was insane. He was Keegan’s friend. And Keegan could very likely be the only person who could provide any information. When he woke up, he would clear his name of any questionable wrongdoing. However, his life could be in jeopardy for months while the investigation continued.

Fuck
.

Trace must have picked up on her stress because he eased back into his seat and held her tighter. But he misread her concern when he communicated,
“Relax, baby.

Everything’s going to be fine.”

Perhaps it was the tension over the entire situation, or the fact that Keegan was recuperating passed out in the other room, or even the overwhelming sense of danger coming from the land itself. Whatever the case, Melinda had never been more uneasy, and she couldn’t help feeling like Mitch was keeping something from them. He’d dropped a few bombs, but maybe he was trying to protect them from the brunt of something so soon after Keegan’s injury.

Why?

The good news was that as far as Melinda knew, Mitch had no idea she was sensitive. If he was hiding something, she would figure it out. He seemed off.

She shuddered to consider the possible implications. She needed to calm down and get rational. Mitch was a long-time friend of Keegan. Whatever bullshit the feds were exploring, Mitch would clear it up.

And then she had an idea. What if the same person who killed Friedmont and sent the threatening email to Keegan had also gotten his hands on Mitch? It wasn’t farfetched. Anyone paying attention would think Keegan had imparted details to Mitch.

Even Melinda assumed both men were privy to the same information. Why, then, was Mitch stating otherwise? He insisted he and Keegan had worked different angles and not conferred. Was that possible?

Could he be receiving payment to push this under the rug? Or worse, threatened if he didn’t?

Someone else knocked at the door.

Melinda jumped out of her skin this time. She was so focused on Mitch, she hadn’t detected anyone approaching. Again.

When she twisted her neck to see who was there, she was shocked to find Mimi at the door. The woman had already been there that day. Why was she back?

“I’ll get it,” Melinda said as she nearly knocked the coffee table over in her haste to jump up. She padded to the door and opened it. “Mimi. Did you forget something?”

The woman chuckled as she walked into the house. “I may be getting up there in years, but have you ever known me to leave something behind?”

Not unless you did it on purpose
.

Mimi’s face changed as she stepped farther into the living room. Her gaze roamed the room and settled on Mitch.

It was possible neither Mitch nor Trace could read the expression Mimi saw hidden under her façade. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she lied.

Melinda held her tongue, hoping Mimi felt the same weird vibe as she did coming from Mitch. She needed the validation in order to feel somewhat sane.

Mitch stood, pasting a huge smile on his face. “Not at all, ma’am. I was just checking on Keegan.” He stepped around the couch and reached out a hand. “Mitch Highland. Pleased to meet you. You’re the spitting image of Melinda. You must be her mother.”

Okay, that was laying it on thick.

Mimi took his hand, appearing far more eager than usual to touch another human being. Typically, Melinda had always known Mimi to avoid direct human contact. Her grandmother was far more sensitive than Melinda, probably from years of honing her skills as a medicine woman. Touching people often annoyed her. She said she knew too much about them afterward, though she never elaborated.

“Grandmother,” Mimi corrected. “What did you say you do?”

He hadn’t said a word yet, but Melinda knew Mimi had an angle she was working.

“Is your grandmother okay?”
Trace asked silently.

“Yes. Play along.”

Trace furrowed his brow.

Mitch smiled again. “I’m Keegan’s boss. I’m a building inspector.”

“Ah.” Mimi nodded as if this were a revelation, though Melinda suspected the woman knew far more than she let on. She finally let her hand slide from Mitch’s and took a seat in an armchair that swallowed her whole.

Was it Melinda’s imagination, or was the woman nervous? Never had Melinda witnessed such a strange display from her grandmother. Trace didn’t know her well enough to pick up on the vibe. And Mitch didn’t know the older woman was a shaman.

Mimi set her hand across her heart in a gross exaggeration of despair. Never had the woman been so dramatic. “Oh, you poor dear. It must be so crazy at work with Keegan injured from that horrible accident and those deputies crawling all over the job site. Have they caught whoever’s causing all the drama?”

Trace grabbed Melinda’s hand. She hadn’t even felt him approach.
“What the hell is
Mimi up to?”

“Shh,”
she said into his head. Mimi knew every detail about that casino and its problems. Up to the minute. Hell, she’d already been to the house that morning.

Which reminded Melinda she had no idea why the woman had returned.

“No, ma’am. It would seem we’ve reached a dead end.” Mitch didn’t elaborate. He shook his head as if the case were closed and it was just too sad they didn’t catch the bad guys.

What the hell?

“Well, I really should get going,” Mitch continued, stepping around the room to reach the front door. “I just wanted to check on Keegan’s progress.” He turned toward Trace. “You’ll call me when he wakes up?”

“Of course,” Trace said as he saw Mitch out.

“Not a snowball’s chance in hell,”
Melinda added silently, making Trace flinch.

•●•

Trace turned around as soon as the door shut and glanced from Melinda to Mimi.

“What the hell just happened here?”

Melinda collapsed against the couch, her gaze on Mimi. She didn’t ask any questions. She simply waited for her grandmother to speak.

Mimi closed her eyes for several moments, her hands on her lap, palms up. She appeared to be meditating. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at Melinda. “That man was pure evil.”

Trace gasped. “Mitch?” He came around the couch and resumed his seat next to Melinda. “What do you mean? He and Keegan have known each other for years.

They’re very close.”

“Don’t know anything about that,” Mimi said. “But he’s full of shit. He didn’t have an honest bone in his body today.”

It was rare for Mimi to cuss. Melinda would have gasped if the situation weren’t so serious. “Why did you come here, Grandma?”