“We’re still looking for Graves. They both had rap sheets, but Graves had no outstanding warrants so he was released the same night we brought him in. Petrov’s background was a little more sketchy. Plus he was using an alias so we kept him in lockup overnight. When nothing interesting turned up, we released him the next morning. A teenager found him dead in his truck a few hours later.”
“Graves could have been waiting for him.”
“He could have been. What about you? The woman at the resort described a rather spectacular fight on Halloween night.”
“We fought,” he said. “Petrov and Graves were hired to silence my client, Ms. Kegan.”
“By silence, do you mean kill?”
“If necessary.”
“And why is that?”
“She’s a journalist. They wanted to stop her from writing a story she’s working on.”
“What kind of story?”
“Look, what Ms. Kegan writes is none of my business. I’m her bodyguard. Keeping her safe—that’s what I’m paid to do.” Not that he was actually getting any money.
“And the night we picked up Petrov and Graves out in the desert? That was you? You’re the one who assaulted them and called 911?”
“They made the mistake of coming after Ms. Kegan again. All I did was protect my client. They were lucky I called the cops instead of leaving them to freeze their asses off in the desert.”
Galen grunted and leaned toward him across the table. “So you aren’t the guy who killed him.”
“Hell, no. If I’d wanted Petrov dead, he’d be dead and buried and you never would have found a trace of him.”
Galen’s chair grated as he slid it backward, got up, and began to pace the tight quarters of the stark white room. The faint smell of stale fear-sweat lingered in the stuffy air.
“Tell me why you believe Petrov was hired to take out your client.”
“I told you...she’s doing a story someone doesn’t want her to write.”
“But I’m guessing you don’t know who that someone is.”
“I wish I did.” He straightened, liking the detective’s no-bullshit style and coming to a decision. “If you want to know who killed Petrov, I’d suggest you look for the guy who hired him to go after Ms. Kegan. Petrov mentioned someone named Weaver. That’s all I know.”
“Weaver. What’s his first name?”
“No idea.”
“So that’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
Bran leaned back in his chair and looked up at him. “I can tell you this much. Ms. Kegan’s late father was a colonel in the army. Some of what she’s working on is of a highly sensitive nature. At this time, neither of us is at liberty to talk about it.”
Galen’s jaw tightened. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card, and flipped it on the table. “Call me when you’re ready to talk.”
Turning, he opened the door, stalked out, and slammed it behind him. Bran picked up the card and tucked it away just in case. He almost smiled to think what would happen when the detective questioned Jessie.
“You know I can hold you for forty-eight hours without pressing charges.” Galen stood on the opposite side of the table, his palms flat as he leaned down and glared at her.
“Seriously? You’re going to arrest me? Petrov and Graves came afterme. All my bodyguard did was protect me. If anything, he restrained himself from hurting the men even worse.”
“Why didn’t he reveal his identity after the attack when he called 911 and gave the men’s location?”
“Because he didn’t want to go through exactly what he’s going through right now.”
A muscle ticked in Galen’s cheek. “You said Petrov and Graves were trying to stop you from writing the story you’re working on. What’s the story about?”
