Page 62 of Diamonds in the Mud

After descending the twenty-two stairs, I turned right and followed the dark alleyway, pausing at the entrance to scan the area. It was a quarter past three in the morning. The bars had closed at one, which meant the town was dead quiet. If I was being watched, whoever it was was damned good at keeping hidden.

The darkness of the night seemed to swallow me whole as I made my way down the dimly lit alley, every step a silent prayer that no one was following.

The streets were deserted, the only sounds the distant hum of a passing car on the highway almost half a mile away and the buzzing of the summer night bugs. I hugged the shadows, my senses on high alert as I navigated the empty sidewalks, acutely aware of the need to remain unseen.

A sudden rustle in the bushes ahead sent a jolt of fear coursing through me, my pulse quickening as I froze in place. Was someone watching? Was I being followed?

With bated breath, I strained my ears for any sign of movement, my heart pounding in my chest. I pressed myself against a brick wall and stood there for a full two minutes, but all I heard was the whisper of the wind through the trees, the night silent once more.

Relief flooded through me as I cautiously resumed my journey, my footsteps barely an echo in the stillness. Sweat rolled down my back as the summer heat soaked my clothes. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat, every corner a potential danger, but I pressed on, determined to reach the van quickly.

Finally, I stepped into the alley where my mother’s van was parked. I could see it at the other end of the street, a beacon of safety in the darkness. I quickened my pace, my heart racing as I fumbled for the keys in my pocket, desperate to escape the suffocating grip of the night.

I had only parked three blocks away from Jameson’s place, yet the journey had seemed to take forever.

I’d been so focused on reaching the van and concerned that someone was following me that I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking. When I tripped and landed on my hands and knees, I cursed under my breath.

I’d fallen into something sticky and immediately cringed. Then I turned and looked at what I’d tripped over and gasped.

Evelyn Hart lay in the center of the alleyway, her body twisted at odd angles as her eyes staring blankly up into the night sky.

“Well, shit,” I groaned.

Chapter Fifteen

“Invest in the human soul. Who knows,

it might be a diamond in the rough.”

–Daniel Defoe

Jameson

Since I had the day off, I didn’t catch wind of Evelyn’s death until I swung by the sandwich shop around noon. My first gut reaction was a mix of relief and hope that maybe now Declan would get what was coming to him.

Then I heard the buzz about Rayne stumbling upon the body during her late-night drive, and it sent a chill down my spine. There was no doubt in my mind that she’d found Evelyn on her way back to her car.

I’d been so exhausted after she’d sent me a text that she was safe, that I’d fallen asleep immediately. Why had she sent that message if she’d found Evelyn? Why not tell me?

Deep down I knew why. I would have hauled my butt down the street to be with her. No matter who saw it. Then it would have been obvious where she had been.

I needed more information, but I didn’t want to fuck up the run I was supposed to go on that night with Ben, so I couldn’t head down to the station.

The best place in town to hear gossip was the bar, especially since Evelyn worked there.

After finishing my lunch, I strolled down the sidewalk and headed towards BBB.

When I saw the patrol cars and the police tape blocking off the alley a few blocks away, I changed course and headed over there. There were almost two dozen other bystanders huddled around, so I figured I’d blend in.

Two officers stood around as a woman in a black coat took photos of the street.

“What’s up?” I asked the blond man.

The dark-haired cop answered instead. “Hit-and-run last night.” The man looked me over. “You’re Jameson, right?”

I nodded and wondered how this cop knew my name. I’d seen him once, somewhere. Maybe when I’d been booked?

“She okay?” I asked.