Page 10 of The Morning After (Savannah 2)

“Any ID on the victims?” Reed’s mind spun. First, the weird note this morning and then this bizarre news about bodies in Lumpkin County, the part of Georgia where he’d grown up—a place he’d rather forget.

“Both Jane Does. Maybe you should just come on up and see for yourself. I’ve already worked it out with the state police. They’ll fly you up in a chopper. The major crime team is already up there, preserving the site, but seein’ as your name was on the note, I really think you should take a look at this.”

Reed was already reaching for his jacket.

Around four o’clock, Trina said, “Something major is going on up in Lumpkin County.” She was on her way back from the soda machine, a sweating bottle of Diet Coke swinging from her fingers. An instrumental rendition of a Patti Page tune wafted from hidden speakers in the offices of the Savannah Sentinel as Nikki tried to put an interesting spin on her dry story about the school board.

“How major?” Nikki looked up from her computer monitor. She was interested in anything having to do with news even though Lumpkin County was a long way north of Atlanta, not far from the Carolina border.

Trina’s forehead furrowed a bit. “I don’t know. But big enough to warrant the interest of the Sentinel.”

“Really?” Nikki was all ears.

“All I know is that Metzger was so excited, he almost forgot to gloat.”

Norman Metzger was the Sentinel’s crime reporter. His byline accompanied nearly every story having anything to do with the Savannah Police Department or other police agencies in the state. It wasn’t that he was such a bad guy, just inefficient in Nikki’s mind and, as Trina had indicated, had a high and extremely inflated opinion of himself. “He was grabbing his jacket and barking orders to the photographer, telling Jim to get a move on.

“When I asked him ‘Where’s the fire?’ he threw me a grin that the Cheshire Cat would have killed for and just said ‘Dahlonega.’” Trina twisted off the cap from her Diet Coke and her eyebrows elevated over eyes that were charged with fire. “I figured you’d want to know.”

“You figured right.” Nikki scooted her chair back, looked down the hall and saw Metzger plop a wool cap on his head and jangle his keys in the pocket of his jacket. He tossed Nikki a glance down the hallway, caught her staring and gave her a mock salute as he winked at her.

Creep.

He knew she wanted his job and couldn’t help but rub it in every chance he got.

Her jaw tightened as she rolled her chair back to her desk.

“Don’t let him get to you.” Obviously, Trina had caught the entire exchange.

“With Metzger, it’s impossible.”

“Nah, it isn’t. Don’t play his game. Let it slide. Water off a duck’s back.”

“If you say so.” Nikki’s mind was spinning. What was it that was so important up in the north Georgia mountains? “Thanks for the tip,” she said to Trina. “I owe ya one.”

“Oh, you probably owe me a dozen or more, but who’s counting. You can buy me a drink tonight. Remember, whatever this is, you’re not bagging out on us. I’m not going to be the only piece of sanity between Dana’s elation and Aimee’s despair. No way, honey. You’re showin’ up.”

“Promise.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Trina slid into her chair and disappeared behind the partition just as her phone began to jingle. “Savannah Sentinel, this is Trina Boudine…”

Nikki didn’t waste a second. She picked up her cell and called a number she knew by heart. Another cell phone. This one belonging to Cliff Siebert who worked in the detective unit of the Savannah Police Department. He made it his business to know what was going on and for some reason, he usually confided in Nikki. Maybe he was interested in her, a thought she harbored but didn’t want to acknowledge right now. So far, he’d never really come on to her. Well, not lately. There was a chance he opened up to her because she was Big Ronald Gillette’s daughter, but, more likely it was because of a severe case of guilt.

“Hi, it’s me,” she said brightly when he answered.

He groaned, but it was good-natured. “What do you want?”

“Something’s up. Something big if I can judge by the smile on Norm Metzger’s face. He’s on his way upstate. Dahlonega.”

“How’d he find out about that?”

“About what? And I don’t know.” There was a second’s hesitation, just as there

always was each time Nikki pried and Detective Siebert struggled with his conscience. “Come on, Cliff. What’s happening?”

“You can’t find out from that end?” he asked, stalling. As he always did.

“Are you kidding? You know how my boss thinks. Tom’s a good ole southern boy, who, beneath his liberal veneer, feels that all women should be a cross between Scarlett O’Hara and Heidi Fleiss.”

---