The bell chimed again.

“Just do it. I’ll explain later.” He tightened his grip and glared at her.

“O-okay.” She looked scared now.

He could relate.

But he couldn’t let these two men sniff one hint of fear. He had to act polite, cooperative—and clueless.

“Answer it.” He released her with a slight shove.

She stumbled back . . . caught her balance . . . and hurried to the door.

Beer in hand, he sat in his recliner and forced himself to take deep breaths.

After a brief murmur of voices, Meg reappeared in the doorway to the living room, the two men behind her. “Steve, these are detectives from St. Louis County. They’d like to talk with you.”

He blinked, feigning surprise, and stood. “Detectives?”

The two men stepped around Meg, who seemed rooted to the spot, and approached him, extending their hands as they introduced themselves.

He returned the gesture, apologizing for his damp, cold palm and attributing it to the sweaty beer can.

A lie—but they wouldn’t know that.

“Make yourselves comfortable.” He motioned to the couch and side chair. “Does my wife have to stay? She has errands to run tonight.”

The one named Lange spoke. “No.”

He pivoted to Meg so she alone could see that the grim set of his face was at odds with his pleasant tone. “You don’t have to hang around, honey. I don’t want to disrupt your evening plans.”

“Well . . .” She twisted her hands together, and he glowered at her. “In that case, I’ll take care of my errands.” She nodded toward the two men, who remained standing.

They waited until she left the room to take seats.

Nice manners.

The cop he’d tangled with in Texas could take a few lessons from these guys.

Yet as he reclaimed his recliner and assessed the two men across from him, their probing gazes and the controlled, coiled tension emanating from them suggested there was steel beneath their veneer of politeness.

Messing with these guys could be tricky.

A bead of sweat popped out on his forehead, and the other detective—Flynn—homed in on it.

“Are you guys hot?” He swiped the drop away. No sense pretending he wasn’t sweating. “We turn the thermostat up during the day while we’re at work, and Meg must have forgotten to reset it when she got home.”

“I’m fine.” Lange leaned back, his posture relaxed, as if this was nothing more than a friendly visit.

But his sharp eyes said otherwise.

“Let me check it anyway.” He set his can on the side table. “I’ll be back in half a minute.”

Leaving the two detectives behind, he fled to the hall, moved the thermostat three degrees lower than usual, flexed his fingers, and rotated his shoulders.