A Profiler's Case for Seduction(26)
For the next two hours they sat at the table, eating fried and greasy food and drinking far too much beer. They got loud and laughed often as they all blew off the steam of frustration.
It was the work that brought a team together, but it was times like these that bonded a team forever. When Richard’s wife had gone through breast cancer treatment it had been the people at this table who had brought food to his house, visited her in the hospital and tried to ease some of Richard’s fears. When Sarah and Mark had divorced it had been these people at the table who had offered him comfort and support.
By the time Mark got up to use the men’s room he had a pleasant buzz going on and was grateful that the motel where they were staying was walking distance from the tavern. There was enough trouble in town without the embarrassment of one of them being picked up by a local for driving under the influence.
He’d almost made it to the restroom when a loud, strident voice caught his attention. Blearily he gazed at the table in the back corner where a thirtysomething man appeared to be holding court.
“They all were scumbags,” he said to the group of three men who were with him. His words slurred, a definite indication that the man had probably had a little too much to drink. “They deserved what they got. I hope the Feds don’t solve the damn murders. Whoever killed those men did us all a big favor.”
Mark sobered as he continued on his way, suddenly interested in the identity of the man who was so outspoken and publicly applauding a murderer.
When he left the restroom he went to the bar and waited to catch the bartender’s attention. “More pitchers for the table?” the bartender, who wore a name tag that identified him as Mike, asked.
“No, thanks, I think we’re good,” Mark replied. “I was just wondering if you could tell me who that guy is at the corner table in the back, the one wearing the blue shirt.”
“That would be Troy Young. Why, is he bothering you? He tends to be a loudmouth, especially when he’s had a few.”
“No, nothing like that,” Mark hurriedly replied. “Thanks.”
Troy Young. Mark turned the name over in his head as he walked back to the table of his colleagues.
If Melinda was somehow responsible for the murders, then she had to have a partner. There was no way she could have killed three men and buried them all by herself.
A person of interest, he thought as he rejoined the group. First thing in the morning he’d do a little digging into Troy Young and see if there was anything there or if the loudmouth opinionated guy was just another person who hated liars, cheaters and thieves.
* * *
Amanda knocked on Melinda’s door and waited for a response. It was almost nine at night, but it wasn’t unusual for Melinda to get a sudden brainstorm and need Amanda to come take notes or sit at the computer and pull up research. Melinda didn’t adhere to usual business hours. When she needed her assistants she called, no matter the time of day.
Her stomach clenched in irritation as Ben opened Melinda’s front door. “How did you get here so fast?” she asked as she shoved past him and into the living room. It usually took Ben ten minutes longer than it did Amanda to get to Melinda’s when she beckoned.
“Actually, I’ve been here for a little over an hour.” He flung himself on the sofa, a smug smile on his face. “Melinda is in the bedroom. She should be out shortly.”
Amanda stared at him, feeling sick as she recognized the implication he was trying to give her. The idea of Ben in bed with Melinda made her throw up a little in the back of her throat.
“You’re lying,” she whispered vehemently, not wanting to believe that her idol, her role model would allow somebody like Ben to even touch her. He wasn’t good enough to wash Melinda’s feet, let alone be in bed with her.
Ben shrugged. “Believe what you want.” He grinned slyly. “I’ll just say this, I like being teacher’s pet.”
“Ben.” Melinda’s voice thundered as she entered the living room from the bedroom clad in an emerald-green dressing gown. “Stop trying to make trouble or you’ll make me angry. And you know you don’t want me angry with you.”
Her eyes were hard chips of jewels that matched her floor-length silk gown. They glowed with a displeasure that chilled Amanda to the bone. Ben’s smug smile disappeared from his face. They both had seen Melinda’s rages and Amanda knew she never wanted Melinda angry with her.
“We have work to do,” Melinda said briskly. “And we don’t have time for childish games.” She glared once again at Ben, who appeared to sink deeper and deeper into the brown sofa cushion.