“Steel, we didn’t even bother talking to the police because weallbelieved that Shaw had killed Melanie. The police looked at everything with fresh eyes and no preconceived notions.”
He had a point. Steel leaned back against the van wall. Sorrow made it hard to breathe, but he had to push through. He’d been blinded by Shaw’s vendetta against him to even consider the possibility that there was another killer. He couldn’t make that mistake again.
Finally, he voiced the question that had been plaguing him since Keys had proven Shaw’s alibi. “Who would want to kill Melanie?” He looked at Keys. “We went through every one of my enemies.”
Keys sat up in his chair, his expression forlorn. “We did, but we missed Shaw. It’s possible we missed someone else too.”
Steel shook his head. “Shaw wasit. What are the chances that someone else came after me at the same time he was?”
“I hate to ask,” Papaw interjected. “But what if it has nothing to do with you? What if Melanie was involved in something?”
Steel shot off the wall. “Melanie wasn’t involved inanything. She is a—” Steel flinched at his slipup. Fuck. Referring to her in the past tense was like a fist squeezing the lift out of his heart with each word. “Shewasa good girl. Shy. She loved books and music. Hell, she had aCare Bearcollection! She wasn’t involved in anything, and certainly not something that would get her killed.”
Ghost shifted his weight. “I was there when King threatened her,” he reminded Steel.
He was referring to the time that Steel, Bulldog, Ghost, and Jumper had gone to the Black Python’s clubhouse in Pittsburgh. It was where they’d found Ollie, a mistreated, scrawny, little teen who was forced to wear a prospect cut with the wordfaggotacross the back. King Cobra, the President, had tried to intimidate Steel by threatening to go after Melanie, who was newly eighteen at the time, and teach her what it was like to be with a man. Steel hadn’t risen to the bait, claiming that his wife and daughter were the spouse and child of a Marine who had taught both how to fight. He didn’t take King’s threat lightly, nor had he brushed it off, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to give King the reaction he’d been aiming for.
“You think Fang went after her?” Steel inquired. “That makes little sense. It’s been years.”
“But he was working with the DEA,” Ghost pointed out. “When that failed after Dixie’s murder, we never heard anything else about him. What if the DEA cut him loose, and he decided to take his anger out on Melanie, as King had wanted to do?”
Steel had to school his features to not outwardly show the pain of those words. Instead, he turned to Keys. “Where is Fang now?”
Keys licked his lips, looking nervous. “Schuylkill. He couldn’t deliver what he promised, so the DEA revoked his deal and incarcerated him.”
“And you’re sure he hasn’t been released?” Papaw asked.
Spinning his chair, Keys turned back to his computer and the numerous monitors attached to the wall. Steel saw Fang’s mugshot appear on one monitor a second before Keys turned back around. “He’s still there. I can hack into the system to ensure he’s actually there, but I doubt he has the knowhow to hack a federal corrections facility and spoof the feed.”
Steel leaned forward slightly. Lack of sleep and a full belly were catching up to him. “We need to split up. Half of us needto find Tracy Marigold and the other half need to track down the detective’s notes and figure out what the police know.”
“Why Tracy?” Keys asked, his eyes glancing about as if he was trying to see if he was the only one confused.
“I want to know who she was to Shaw and if she knows anything about Melanie’s murder,” Steel told the younger man. “Shaw died with her name on his tongue, and I want to know why.”
“Were you able to authenticate the footage?” Ghost asked Keys. “Maybe Shaw set this up. He knew you were going to catch him and kill him, and he did all this to get in one last laugh at your expense.”
“I’m not laughing,” Steel snarled.
Ghost did not back down. “Neither are we, which is why I asked Keys to verify the footage from the restaurant is real.”
Keys looked back and forth between them like he was watching a tennis match before he cleared his throat. “It’s real. Everything checks out. Beyond the footage being real, a timestamp can be manipulated. But I verified the employees who worked that night, the other credit cards that were used, the fact that an ambulance was called across the street and you can see the flashing lights by the window, the traffic pattern outside…” He couldn’t meet Steel’s eyes as he added, “You killed the wrong man.”
“Shaw would have died anyway,” Steel snapped. “He made Jenna cry, and he nearly killed Ollie.” He wouldn’t have his actions questioned by rigid morals.
Keys at least had the good sense to look abashed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. It’s just…”
“We’ll get the file from the police,” Ghost interrupted, saving Keys from any further awkwardness. “I assume you want to be the one to speak with Marigold?”
Steel nodded once. He wanted to look the woman in the eye to determine if she was innocent—or joining Shaw in a shallow grave.
CHAPTER 13
After unlocking her office on the third floor of Presley Hall, Tracy Marigold opened the door and turned on the light switch. She struggled to hold onto books, folders, and papers in her arms and was preoccupied reading something on her phone while biting into a cream cheese-filled everything bagel to immediately notice Steel sitting behind her desk. Letting out a startled gasp, Tracy dropped everything, including the phone and partially eaten bagel.
As Steel stood slowly from behind her desk, Tracy fumbled in her coat pocket to pull out the silver revolver she had stowed inside. The hammer spur got caught on the seam, wasting precious seconds if Steel had plans to attack her.
Finally, Tracy lifted the .357 Magnum with both hands wrapped tightly around the wooden grip. Her arms were shaking and she failed twice to pull back the hammer with her right thumb.
