Grave Secrets (Manhunters 1)

He tilted his head, his brows pulling together.

“The one-year signing agreement,” she explained.

“Oh, right. That feels sketchy to me.”

“I think so too, but I guess it’s how he keeps his labor force from bugging out.”

“That right there tells me something’s wrong.”

“You’re intuitive,” she said. “But you still took the job?”

“No. I’ve lived with term agreements my whole adult life. I want to be free to come and go.”

“I’m confused.” She glanced around the living room. “You’re painting but not staying?”

“Pfffft. I wouldn’t paint if I wasn’t staying. At least for a while. This place was cheap, and when they agreed to let me paint, I took it.”

“Are you going to look for other work in town or…?” She cut herself off. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I didn’t come over to grill you.”

“Doesn’t feel like a grilling.” He shifted on his feet and leaned one shoulder against the wall. “Feels like small-town hospitality.”

She laughed.

“I’d ask you to sit down, but…” He lifted his chin toward the empty living room with a smirk.

“Are your things coming soon?”

“I don’t have any. Everything I own is in the back of my truck.”

Okay…that seemed odd. “You travel light.”

“I’ve been in the military.”

“Ah.” She drew out the realization. “What made you settle here? Is

your family close by?”

“Nope. Dad disappeared when I was a kid, and Mom passed away about six months ago.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” he said, a little subdued. “I like to hunt and fish and backpack. Thought this would be a good place to relax my first year out. Heard about the jobs available at the mine and thought I’d give it a try.”

She fished her mind for other places he could work, but since everyone in town kept their distance, she didn’t have any ideas. “Since that fell through, what made you decide to stay?”

“Mo.”

“Mo Barley?”

“Yeah. Met him in town. He’s a vet, we got to talking, and he hired me.”

“At the garage?”

Ian nodded. “I did a lot of mechanical work in the army. Felt like a good fit.”

Savannah smiled, tucked her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans, and leaned her shoulder against the wall, mirroring Ian. Jamison was content to toss and catch the ball over and over. He’d always been good at occupying himself, and he loved listening to adults talk. But Savannah was enjoying it too. This was the first decent conversation she’d had with a man in a damn long time. Initially, Ian seemed to have a lot of rough edges. But talking with him felt as comfortable as chatting with her coworkers at the café. It felt good. Better than it probably should.

“I think you’ll like working for Mo,” she told him. “He and his wife are good people.”