Page 101 of The Morning After (Savannah 2)

“Just leave it. She may still show up. This is kind of a constant problem with her.” Simone glanced at her watch and sighed. Nikki was nearly half an hour late. Not good news. Simone could almost hear the excuses already. She imagined Nikki flying into the kickboxing class after it had already started. She would be breathless as she explained about a “rewrite” that she wasn’t satisfied with, a “deadline” that couldn’t be ignored, or “research” that had to be done “ASAP.”

Fifteen minutes later, Simone finished her second drink. The lemon drop was still sweating across the table from her. “Great,” she muttered and thought about downing Nikki’s favorite drink herself, but decided against it. She did still have to walk to the gym and then be able to perform the exercise routines. One more drink and she wouldn’t be able to do anything more than fall on her butt when she tried to strike a target with her foot.

She signaled for the bill, left the waitress with a ten dollar tip and, carrying her bag, started jogging toward the gym. The mist had turned into a thicker, shifting fog in the time that she’d been inside, the streets seeming darker.

Damn Nikki. She was always leaving Simone in the lurch.

It wasn’t that Nicole Gillette wasn’t responsible, just not reliable. But she was good-hearted. Nikki’s downfall was that she was totally obsessed when it came to her job or what she perceived as her job. She was so hell-bent on becoming an ace crime reporter that she lost sight of everything, and everyone else. Even now, Simone guessed, Nikki was probably ferreting out clues as to the identity of the Grave Robber.

It would be a good change to move away, make new friends, connect with people who weren’t related to or had known Andrew.

A stab of sadness cut through her. She’d loved him so much and he’d broken up with her, after vowing to adore her, after asking her to marry him, after learning that he’d been rejected by Harvard. Why? Had he thought he couldn’t measure up to what she’d wanted in a husband, or had it been more…another woman?

Who knew? Who would ever know? The sorry part of it was she doubted she would ever love a man the way she’d so passionately and ardently fallen for Andrew Whitmore Gillette. She’d given him her heart, her virginity, and her self-respect. A part of her figured she’d never get any of them back.

“Oh, stop it,” she muttered, angry at herself. “All those years of counseling and you still feel this way? Get ahold of yourself.”

Light-headed from the martinis, she noticed for the first time how thin the traffic was, how deserted the street. Not that it mattered. She was so close to the class. As she rounded the final corner, she spied the lights of the gym burning warmly in the night. Beacons in the empty, foggy street, the patches of light from the windows were a bit blurry, probably a combination of the surrounding mist and the alcohol creating a warm fuzz in her brain. Somewhere in the distance she heard the sound of Christmas carols and she was reminded again that it would soon be Christmas, the time of year when she’d fallen so head over heels in love with Andrew Gillette. Why she hadn’t stopped thinking about him, she didn’t understand. What was it that Nikki wanted to tell her about her brother, now, a dozen years after his death?

Squinting, she thought she could make out Jake’s SUV, which was parked under a street lamp. Simone grinned. Jake Vaughn wasn’t the first man she’d been interested in after Andrew. Since Andrew’s death, she’d dated, gone with and slept with a few other guys. None had captivated her the way Nikki’s brother had, but Jake had possibilities. Serious possibilities. He certainly was the most challenging man she’d met in a long, long while. If he would take the bait and show some interest in her, she might not have to move after all.

She increased her pace. The gym was only a block away—just past the alley. She heard a strange sound, a hiss, like something slicing through the air. Turning her head toward the windowpanes of a darkened storefront, she saw her reflection and…something else…the shadowy, menacing figure of a man lurking between two parked cars. He sprang upward, pulling hard against something.

A rope?

No! She bolted. Adrenaline pumped through her blood. Fear shot through her brain. The man jerked hard. That same moment, her shin encountered something taut and invisible and thin enough to slice through her jogging pants and cut into her flesh. Pain screamed up her leg.

“Oooh!” she cried, pitching forward. The ground rushed up at her. She put out an arm to catch herself and hit the ground hard.

Snap!

Agony jettisoned up her arm. Her bag flew out of her hand to land on the pavement.

“Oh, God!” Whatever had caught her feet was tangling her, cutting into her flesh, a sharp spiderweb snaring her, eating into her. And her arm. It ached so badly she nearly passed out. “Help!” she screamed, writhing in agony. “Someone help me!”

“Shut up!” a deep voice snarled. A sweaty palm covered her mouth and she tried to bite, to roll away. To escape. But the more she squirmed, the more enmeshed she became. Oh, God, who was he? Why was he doing this? Twisting her neck, she caught a glimpse of his face in the darkness…a face she recognized. The guy in the restaurant…but even so, now she knew who he was. Realized he wasn’t a stranger at all.

Oh, no! Oh, Jesus, no! Vainly she tried to free herself, but he was strong, determined. Muscles like steel, holding her against the wet sidewalk, his body pinning hers. Writhing, she prayed for help. Surely someone would see her…come to her aid…other people should be going into the gym…or driving by. Please, please, help me!

“Remember me,” he whispered against her ear, and she felt terror burrow deep into her heart. “Remember what you did to me? It’s time to pay.” Then she spied the needle, a fine, thin weapon glinting evilly in the fog-shrouded night.

Her blood turned to ice.

No!

Vainly she tried to kick, to swing at him, to escape whatever horror he had in mind, but she couldn’t scoot away and she watched in sheer terror as he plunged the vile needle deep into her shoulder.

Simone fought, but his weight pinned her down and her arms were suddenly heavy and useless, her trapped legs unable to move. Panic tore through her as the sluggishness invaded all her body parts. She tried vainly to scream but couldn’t. Her tongue was thick, her vocal cords immobile.

The streetlights dimmed, the fog thickened in her mind, and merciful blackness dragged her under.

God be with me, she thought desperately and only hoped that death would come swiftly.

CHAPTER 23

“Wait up!”

Reed, jacket collar hiked around his neck, was leaving the station. He didn’t break stride but Morrisette dashed through the puddle-strewn lot and around two parked cruisers to catch up with him.

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