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Seven

AFTER CHANGING into his hockey uniform and grabbing his gear bag, Deckard stopped in his kitchen, where Christian was still munching away on the tray of enchiladas he’d left on the stove.

He chuckled. “Think you got enough?”

“It’s good,” Christian said between bites.

He chuckled again. At six-four and two hundred pounds, there was a lot to feed.

“I’m going to FaceTime Ri and Greyson quick before I leave and catch them up.”

Christian set down his fork. “Sounds like a plan.” He dragged his laptop he’d been working on over and started pulling things up.

Deck moved to sit by him, and the call was already going before he settled in.

Ri answered, Grey coming into view beside her. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to fill you in some more from our earlier call.”

“Great,” she said, lifting her pen and sliding her notepad in front of her. “Shoot.”

He ran back through the basics, then focused on the immediate.

“Becky said Tate was moody,” Christian said. “And it sounds like he has trouble controlling his temper. At least with his last girlfriend.”

“We’re tracking the girlfriend down,” Deck said before taking a sip of soda. “Want to hear from her what happened.”

“Good. Let me know what she says when you get ahold of her,” Grey said, his jaw tight.

They all loathed women being abused. Unfortunately, it was one of the ugly things they saw on the job. But Riley had helped more than one abused woman disappear when the system let her down.

“We also learned from the guy that runs the poker club where Kelly plays that she is quite into gambling,” Christian said between bites, his plate almost bare. “Which explains the poker books we saw in her apartment.”

“According to the guy at the club, Tony, she came in to learn poker but has switched over to learning blackjack from a woman in the club named Marybeth,” Deck said. “We’re planning to go back to interview her. Then we’re going to hit the Horseshoe and the Wolves Bane casinos, where she’d been playing for more than poker chips.”

“Interesting.” Riley tapped her lip with the tip of the pen.

“It gets more so,” Christian said, setting his empty plate aside.

“Oh?” Grey asked.

Deck rested his arms on the table. “Tony said she’d been asking about how to count cards.”

“Really?” Grey frowned. “I didn’t think that was allowed.”

“It’s not illegal,” Riley explained, “but the casinos will toss you out if they catch you doing it.”

Christian leaned forward, placing his tree branch–like forearms on the table—nearly knocking Deck’s off.

Deck looked over at his bro. “Personal bubble invasion, man.”

Christian moved his arm, but not before pegging him in the rib.

“Really, dude?” Deck said, hands lifted.

“What?” Christian shrugged.

Deck shook his head. “I—”

“Hello.” Riley snapped her fingers. “Focus, guys.”

Grey cleared his throat. “Circling back to the ex-girlfriend. We didn’t find any listing of a domestic disturbance on Tate’s record.”

“According to Becky, Kelly passed it off as ‘no charges were filed,’ like it was a big misunderstanding, but Becky said she seemed nervous while sharing about it.”

Riley lifted her arms in disgust. “So he got away with it with the girlfriend?”

“Yep. Looks like it.” Deck nodded. “We’ll track her down.” He glanced at his watch. “Gotta go. Have a game to be at.”

“Thanks, guys,” Ri said as the FaceTime call ended.

“Good luck today,” Christian said.

“Thanks,” Deck said, heading for the front door, his gear bag across his shoulder. The law-enforcement indoor hockey league definitely brought a lot of characters together on the ice, and it would be the perfect opportunity to talk over the case with his good friend Sheriff Joel Brunswick. Joel excelled at his job, and Deck prayed he’d have some helpful insight into a case that had no shape yet—just a mysterious key and Roni’s concern to fuel it.