It felt like I was covered in layers of filth, but Eli had a point. I knew well how quickly an investigation got stale. If we had this detective’s attention now, we had to jump on it.
I finished jotting a few things on the grocery list and handed it back to Alice. “It’s fine. I can deal with being dirty a little longer. I want to find out what they know about my van. Do you think they’ll let me see it?”
Eli shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “We’ll see when we get there. Let’s go.”
Chapter Five
SYLVIE
Eli’s tone didn’t leave a lot of room for argument. I followed him to the elevator, wondering if he ever pulled the stick out of his butt and chilled out. On the surface, he looked like an easygoing kind of guy. His chocolate brown hair was thick, the waves just a little long, like he’d been putting off getting a haircut. With eyes a perfect match to his hair and broad shoulders stretching his black T-shirt, he looked ready to take on anything that came our way. Given how exhausted I was, it was nice to know he was looking out for danger. I was starting to get a little fuzzy-headed from lack of sleep and maybe shock.
I relaxed a little as I got in Eli’s big black SUV, the tinted windows hiding me from anyone outside. As we exited the Sinclair Security underground garage, I saw why Alice would have had to issue me a special fob to get in, as two metal gates were blocking our exit.
“Your office building is like a bunker,” I said as the closest metal gate rose, allowing us into a holding area. The first gate closed behind us, the second rising only after the first was secured.
Eli didn’t respond, turning smoothly onto the street, navigating through Atlanta traffic to move us from Buckhead to Midtown. The traffic wasn’t too bad, meaning that cars were moving, but it wasn’t fast.
I didn’t think I wanted to know the answer, but I had to ask. “Are you okay with this setup?”
“You mean you tagging along while I investigate?” he asked. The side of his mouth curved up the tiniest bit. A smirk or a grin, I couldn’t tell.
I didn’t take the bait of the “tagging along” comment, though it burned just a little. My work was important to me, but I knew a lot of people thought podcasters were just attention-hungry people yapping into a mic to listen to themselves talk. I wasn’t a trained detective, but some of what I’d done had helped people. Maybe this would too.
I stared out the window for a minute before I said, “Yeah, that’s what I meant. You seem like the lone wolf kind of guy. Can you handle having a partner?” I wasn’t above poking back at him a little.
He glanced at me long enough that I wanted to remind him to keep his eyes on the road before he turned his attention back to driving and shook his head. “Alice assures me that you won’t get in the way of the investigation.”
“I won’t,” I said, though I was curious how he’d definegetting in the way. I wouldn’t impede the investigation, not when I wanted answers, but I wasn’t going to follow along in silence either.
He nodded. “My bigger concern is how hard it’s going to be to keep you alive.”
That landed in my gut like a brick. I swallowed, not sure what to say. I wanted to argue that I wasn’t in danger. This wasn’t about me. But I couldn’t forget the heat, the acrid smell of the smoke. I lifted my fingers totrace the cut across my cheek. From glass exploding from my van? From where I’d stumbled back and scraped the wall? I didn’t know. But I could have been inside, and then I wouldn’t be sitting here at all. And if—when—whoever blew up my van figured out I was still alive, I was almost positive they’d try again.
Which meant we had to solve this, or I’d spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.
I couldn’t get my head around it. I wasn’t anyone important. Not really. Not important enough to kill.
I realized I’d said the last of it aloud when Eli said, “The best I can figure is that you either know something you don’t know that you know, or someone really doesn’t want anyone looking into Emily Shaw’s death.”
“What if it’s both?” I asked.
“That’s option three. It could be both. In which case…” He didn’t finish the sentence, just shook his head again, the gesture not at all reassuring.
“Great,” I said, appreciating the safe house all over again. I was good at a lot of things, but I didn’t have a lot of faith in my ability to keep myself alive if someone who knew how to build car bombs wanted me dead.
We pulled into a parking spot opposite the police station. I followed Eli, getting out of the car, stumbling a little as I jumped down. Breakfast and coffee had helped, but I needed a shower and a nap, neither of which were going to happen any time soon. I hadn’t slept much the night before, dozing a little in the alley where I’d holed up for the night. Too scared. Too pumped on adrenaline to really sleep, even if the cold and the rain wouldn’t have kept me awake on their own.
All of this was so far outside my normal reality. I didn’t deal with people like Eli. Sinclair Security and its glossy,high-ticket environment weren’t my scene. I wasn’t used to being the victim. I investigated killers. I found justice for victims. I wasn’t the one who got killed.
The noise of the police station was an ocean of sound, crashing over me in discordant waves of voices. I stood beside Eli as he asked for the detective. We were directed down a hall. Strong fingers closed over my arm, just above my elbow, steering me.
“You okay?” Eli asked.
I looked up to see questioning eyes heavy with concern. It was a new look for him. Just as I thought I had him figured out, he changed on me. “I’m fine,” I said.
Those chocolate eyes narrowed, but he didn’t comment. “This won’t take long,” he said.
We stepped into a small room with windows on three sides, the blinds up. The detective, a guy in his mid-forties, not in uniform, sat at the table and gestured for us to take the seats on the other side.
