Free A Dawn of Death by Gin Jones Page B

name of the builder and the bank that was providing the financing. The blank back didn't tell her any different, but from Marty's actions she assumed the sign warned against the dangers of an active construction site.
    Marty skidded to a stop in front of her and didn't wait for her permission before plopping a much-too-large hard hat on her head. A moment later, Jack was wearing one too.
    Helen reached up to keep her hat from sliding off. "Anyone who knows me will tell you I've got an exceptionally hard head."
    Marty was bent over, trying to catch his breath after the race from the construction trailer. He pulled a phone out of his jacket pocket and glanced at it briefly before putting it away and straightening. "Everyone's got to wear a hard hat on the site. Sheryl was rigid about it. No exceptions, no excuses. She fired a few hard workers over it, but she also saved lives."
    Helen was having trouble hearing him clearly between the echoes of her oversized hard hat and the noise of the distant construction equipment. She tilted her head back so she could see Marty's face while they spoke, only to have the hard hat slip forward to cover her eyes. She quashed the urge to push it up again, afraid it would slide too far in the other direction, exposing her bare head to danger and getting her kicked off the site.
    Besides, another tree had just fallen, and it had sounded a bit too close for comfort. She peered beneath the rim of her hat, but all she could see was the office trailer where a muscular man in jeans and a tank top printed with Toth Construction was coming down the steps. She couldn't see all of him until he reached the ground, and then her gaze was drawn to his bright red hair, gelled to stand up like porcupine quills. He had a jagged scar that was almost the same red running diagonally down his cheek from beneath the inner corner of his eye all the way to his jaw line. Apparently, some injuries could still happen, even when the crew was diligent about the use of hard hats.
    Helen turned her head in Marty's general direction, although all she could see of him were his construction boots. "I'm sorry if we worried you."
    "You didn't know about the danger, I suppose," he said grudgingly. "What can I do for you?"
    Helen hadn't expected Marty to be the first person she saw at the site. In fact, she'd hoped to avoid him so she could question someone who might know if he had truly been at risk of being fired. She wasn't likely to get the opportunity now. Marty showed every sign of being as much of a mother hen for his crew as everyone in Helen's life was for her.
    "I just wanted to pay my condolences," Helen said. "I didn't expect to see much work going on."
    "It's what Sheryl would have wanted," Marty said, absently pulling his phone out of his pocket again and tapping the screen to send the call to voicemail. "Toth Construction was her life."
    And her death, Helen thought. "Now it's your life?"
    "I'm just keeping the work going until someone tells me otherwise."
    Helen wondered if he truly felt that loyal to his boss's memory or if it was an act to keep anyone from believing the rumors about his previously imminent firing. "How'd you end up with the responsibility?"
    "The usual," Marty said. "No one else wanted it. I probably wouldn't have volunteered if I'd realized how much paperwork there was. I'd much rather be operating a backhoe or hammering nails."
    "Presumably, Sheryl felt differently."
    "Not really." Marty's phone buzzed again. "She got the paperwork done, but whenever she could, she was out doing the real work."
    "Operating a backhoe and hammering nails?"
    He nodded. "She loved the heavy equipment. Said it was relaxing after a long day of dealing with paperwork, inspectors, and suppliers. At least once every two or three days, I'd find her out there doing some of the fussy precision work after the rest of the crew had left. During really stressful times, she'd be out there every single day."
     That wasn't what