“And instead of waking me up, you got under my sheets.”
The memory of the bare-chested Darius popped into Eve’s head so quick that she stumbled in her response.
“I—Well—I—” She took a breath. Her cheeks grew warm. Darius was a looker, no contest, but she hadn’t expected lookingathim like that would do as much as it had done to her. Eve fought the urge to try and wipe the blush that was no doubt turning her cheeks as red as a Stop sign and powered throughher defense. “I figured it was better to let you sleep since this didn’t seem like a problem that would get worse with a few hours. Plus, if I’m being honest, I haven’t been getting the best sleep over the last month or so, and your bed is a memory foam. It would have been harder to stay awake.”
An expression she couldn’t read flashed across his face before Darius turned to look out the windshield. In all of Seven Roads this was probably the one spot he hadn’t expected her to direct them toward.
To be fair, it had been a surprise to Eve too when she had thought about it.
“You said you think you got Gary Whittaker killed here?”
The former Grayton Steel Mill, now owned by a company called Bellview Tech, stood sentry at the edge of Seven Roads as it had since the town’s inception. The small town could survive the earth cracking in two beneath them, but they couldn’t make it a week if the steel mill ever went out of business. Even Eve knew this, despite being away for years.
As the employer for most of Seven Roads, it would probably outlast all of them, their children and their children.
It was one reason why she knew Darius was so hesitant to believe that Gary Whittaker had been killed inside the back quarter of the mill’s residence hall. Gary wasn’t a local. He would have had no reason to be at the steel mill, never mind the residence hall.
“Most of the dorms are empty, minus a few night workers and the weekend crews who come in twice a month,” he added before she could answer. “There’s no reason Gary should have been here.”
The residence halls were in two long buildings wrapped in brick abutting the edge of one of the steel mill’s wire fences. They were parked at the side of the dirt road that led in from the main one. It looked as unused as the buildings themselves.
Eve squared her jaw.
“Because I told someone once this is the last place even a local would go for trouble.”
“Someone? Do you mean Mitchell?”
Eve opened the truck door. All humor and teasing she’d had in her for the man behind the wheel was gone. The blush at her cheeks had already cooled before the cold outside met her.
“If I’m right, I’ll explain everything,” she said skirting his retort. “Until then, can you trust me?”
She formed it as a question but didn’t wait for an answer. Eve shut the door before he could respond. She was crossing the line again, she was sure. A detective was asking her valid and reasonable questions.
And she was telling him all hands inside the cart until the ride has come to a complete stop.
Even if he hadn’t been the law, it was asking a lot given the situation.
What could she do but go forward?
Darius, at least, didn’t fight her on it. He walked around the hood of the truck and fixed his belt. In between Eve sneaking back out of his window and across the side yard to his truck and him leaving the house, he had put himself into a good pair of jeans and a gray-and-black bomber jacket. Along with his height, it created a look of casual but potent intimidation.
That went double when his voice ground out low.
“Let’s go, then.”
The gate wasn’t anything to speak of, and the same went for any security cameras or guards in the area. Darius commented on it as he nudged the gate open with his shoulder and motioned her through.
“Theo used to work here part-time in the cafeteria and said the new management cares as much as the old crew about keeping the back quarter guarded.”
“So they don’t care at all either.”
He nodded.
“No reason to waste money watching nothing,” he said. “Honestly, I’m surprised they haven’t shut this entire section down. Or at least demolished it to build something else here. The new company that took it over seems to have more than enough funds to do it.”
So she had been right after all. Her off-the-cuff story about the residence halls had stayed true even after she had left town.
“Dad used to hate staying in them during his long shifts,” she said. “He said he imagined it was like being in a college dorm, but instead of a bunch of guys goofing around and having fun in their gym shorts, the men’s residence hall was filled with grouchy men in sweaty coveralls. And they always stole his lunch out of the fridge.”
