Page 51 of The Morning After (Savannah 2)

Morrisette was at his side, the tops of her snakeskin boots wet from the grass and rain. As they approached the main gate, he sensed rather than saw the flock of reporters and curious onlookers gathered on the other side of the crime scene tape.

“Detective! Can you tell us what’s going on?” a male voice demanded.

“I have nothing to say at this point in the investigation,” Reed said automatically. He was headed for the cruiser.

“Is this another Grave Robber case?”

Reed recognized the voice. “Grave Robber?” he repeated, looking up and spying Nikki Gillette standing front and center, ever eager for a story. Her red-blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail that was dripping in the rain, her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed in the cold. She seemed younger, less of an adversary in her oversize coat, jeans and wet sneakers. In any other circumstance Reed would have found her attractive. Today, she was just another pushy newswoman, a real pain in the ass. In one hand she held a recorder, in the other a pen and paper. The notepad was soggy, the pen dripping from the rain, and everything about her was getting wetter by the minute. Nonetheless, she was as eager as ever.

“Is this the work of the same criminal who put a second body in a grave and buried them both up at Blood Mountain?” she asked.

“It’s too early to determine.”

“But the M.O.?” Gillette pushed forward, never one to give up.

“I’m not going to speculate or say anything that might jeopardize the investigation.” He managed a thin, impatient smile.

“It seems more than just coincidence.” Nikki wasn’t giving an inch. But then, she never did.

Other reporters fired their questions.

“We noticed you digging. Was another grave found?” Max O’Dell, brandishing a microphone, demanded.

“Did you find an empty coffin?” another reporter demanded.

“Or was the grave robbed?”

“Or was there a coffin with a second body stuffed into it?”

“Please,” Reed said, trying to keep his temper in check. “Let us do our job. We’ll answer your questions later when we know more.”

“When will that be?” Nikki Gillette again, scribbling wildly, a lock of wild hair blowing in front of her face.

“We’ll issue a statement.”

“No press conference?” she demanded, rain drizzling down her face and pointed chin.

He bit back a sharp retort. “That’s not for me to decide. Thank you.” Raising a hand in a half wave, he moved away from the group of reporters and headed for the cruiser. “Let’s get out of here.”

“The sooner the better,” Morrisette said, more subdued than usual. “When we get back to the station, we’d better fill in Okano.” She slid a glance in his direction as she scrounged through her purse for her cigarettes. Keys and coins jangled within the voluminous leather pouch. “Tell you this much. She ain’t gonna like it.” Cracking the window, she added, “But then, I don’t like it, either. Who the hell would kill an old lady who helps out at the library?” She flicked her lighter several times, swore, and dug in her purse before she found another one and finally managed to get a flame.

“He didn’t just kill her,” Reed growled. “He buried her alive with a corpse.”

CHAPTER 11

“I need to talk to you,” Nikki insisted, driving with one hand, holding her cell phone with the other. She was headed back to the office, skimming through traffic and had finally managed to connect with Cliff Siebert, an accomplishment she considered a minor miracle. “Let’s meet.” Easing off the accelerator she took a corner onto Victory Drive. After spending nearly two hours at Heritage Cemetery she was chilled to the bone. In that time the rain had let up and the sky was showing hints of blue through the clouds, but not before she’d been soaked to the skin. Her hair was a frizzy, damp mess that had escaped from her ponytail, her coat damp, her Nikes squishy, her socks clinging and feeling as if she’d been wading through ice water. She considered telling Cliff about her intruder, about the notes, but knew he’d tell her it was probably just a prank. Like once before. When she’d thought Corey Sellwood was stalking her. She’d made a fool of herself then. No, she had to keep what happened last night to herself.

“Meet where?” Cliff asked.

“I could come by your place tonight,” she offered, forcing some enthusiasm she didn’t feel. “Or wherever you want to hook up.” Trying to keep things light, she switched lanes. “What time do you get off work?”

“Going to my apartment wouldn’t be a good idea.” She heard the indecision in his voice and she imagined him jangling his keys nervously in the pocket of his tan Dockers. With curly, flaming red hair cropped short, Cliff was clean shaven and usually wore polo shirts. To Nikki, he looked more like a pro golfer than a cop.

“Then pick another spot.” She wasn’t letting him off the hook.

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on, Cliff.” She needed to talk to him. “How about somewhere out of town?”

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