Icy Betrayal by David Keith Page A

the potential media attention. Think about it—this case has everything. We’ll have news media satellite trucks parked up and down the streets.”
    As they moved to the living room toward the large wood-burning fireplace, Mia worried about the possible fallout if the case went sideways. She couldn’t let that happen—not for George Lombard, not for the department and most importantly, not for Mick. If they couldn’t make a case, it could cost Mick the election. On the other hand, if Lennox and Sullivan were brought to justice, Mick could ride it to victory. The George Lombard murder case was rapidly becoming a pressure cooker, and Keller was a wild card.
    “I’m still concerned about Keller.”
    “Look, maybe we’re over thinking this whole thing,” Mick offered. I did a pretty in depth background on him and while the drinking was obviously a concern, there was nothing in his history that suggested he ever screwed with a case.”
    “Yeah, well, Lisa Sullivan is awfully pretty. I just hope he’s not somehow involved with her. Crazier things have happened.”
    “Really? You get that vibe from him?” he asked.
    “Maybe.”
    “God, I don’t even want to think about what that could do to the case and the department and reputations of all involved. It would be a pretty shitty way for Sheriff Connelly to wrap up an otherwise exemplary career with RCSO.”
    Mia answered, “Well, some women can be pretty conniving when they need to be.”
    “Geez, he’s like thirty years older than she is.”
    “Oh yeah, well that would never happen. An old man pursuing a beautiful young woman,” Mia replied sarcastically. Then smiled and added, “I mean, look at us. You are way older than me, and we both know I’m just after your money.”
    “Um, we are all of two years apart, young lady. And as far as my millions go—if you can find it, you can have it.”
    “Forget the millions. Where’s that grilled cheese you promised me?”
    “Bad news. Turns out my Velveeta expired. So you’re stuck with a little antipasto, lasagna, and fresh sourdough.”
    “No fruit cocktail?”
    “Maybe for desert,” he answered.
    “I’m very impressed, Mick. When did you learn to make lasagna?”
    “When I picked it up at Ferraro’s on the way home.”
    “Very clever, McCallister. Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

TWENTY

    T he bright sunshine beamed through the windows as the snow melted outside the Serrano house. Chuck was sitting down to breakfast. He loved Mia’s “Denver Scramble.”
    “Dad, you don’t have to do this if you are uncomfortable with it. I don’t mean to put you on the spot.”
    “I don’t mind, Mia. If I can be of help to you in the investigation, I’m happy to do it.”
    “Okay, well let’s leave as soon as we finish breakfast. I told Mick I’d be in a few minutes late today.”
    “Sounds good to me.”
    Mia cleared the breakfast dishes and thought about her next move. She didn’t like involving her father in her work life, but she knew it was the safest way to determine what exactly Keller was up to. Sometimes, she thought, extreme measures were needed to get the job done. What she and her father were about to do was not technically illegal, but it was certainly pushing the envelope. She had weighed the unwritten rule of supporting your partner against her fear that Keller might be playing fast and loose with the rules. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time an investigator fell for a pretty suspect, but she’d be damned if she was going to let him muck up this investigation.
    She also felt a little guilty for not telling Mick. But, if things went bad, the blame needed to all fall on her, no one else. There was no way she would let this affect his career and his future run for sheriff.
    “Are you ready, Dad?”
    “Yep, let’s go.”
    The two climbed into Mia’s car and drove to the address she had found on the Internet. The business was in an industrial area just east of Denver in a row of