Page 118 of The Morning After (Savannah 2)

“Didn’t matter.” He guided the car around a final corner, then pulled into the lot and took the empty space next to Nikki’s Subaru. “He would have found a way to get to her. Your phone provided the vehicle, but if he hadn’t been able to use your cell, he would have found something else. This creep has a plan.” Reed turned off the ignition and the engine died, ticking as it cooled.

“I still feel responsible,” she admitted, reaching for the door handle as condensation blurred the windows, building a flimsy barrier to the outside world.

“So do I.”

“You aren’t her best friend.” She petted Mikado and his stub of a tail wiggled.

“No, not her friend. Didn’t even know her. I’m just a cop. Trying to nail the son of a bitch. It’s my job. So far, I’ve failed.”

“A wise man once told me ‘Don’t beat yourself up thinking about it.’” She forced a humorless smile as she threw his words back at him.

“Not so wise, I think, but I do try to take his advice.”

“You’ll catch Chevalier.”

He nodded, but rubbed the back of his neck and scowled into the darkness beyond the windshield. “Yeah, he can’t get far.” There was a hint of doubt in his voice—one Nikki hadn’t heard before.

“But…”

“But what?” she asked and saw the consternation tightening the skin over his face, the hesitation in his eyes as he squinted into oncoming headlights. “There’s something more bothering you about this, isn’t there?”

“There’s a lot that bothers me.”

“Come on, Reed, spill it. And don’t give me any guff about not reporting it, because we’re way past that, okay? I know whatever we talk about here is ‘off the record.’” As if to add emphasis to her words, Mikado growled and yipped, his breath fogging the passenger window even more. When he didn’t answer, she said, “Come on. What is it? Something’s bothering you.”

“Oh, hell.” Reed’s fingers gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles blanched. “Something’s not hanging together with this one. I want the killer to be Chevalier in the worst way. I want to nail his hide to the wall and I’m sure Chevalier’s tied up in the murders. They’re all about him and the jury panel that convicted him, but I remember LeRoy Chevalier as a brutal, useless piece of shit. He was secretive. Nasty. Dark. A person who would terrorize members of his own girlfriend’s family. Torture them. I don’t see him writing little poems, childish poems, really, and taunting us into a game, if that’s what you’d call it. He wasn’t the least bit cerebral. And unless he’s spent the last twelve years honing his computer skills, I can’t see him as having the brains, nor the means, nor the desire to bait us. He got out. Picked up the ‘get out of jail free’ card, so why throw it all away? Nah, I’m missing a piece here. I just can’t figure out what it is.”

“I don’t understand,” she said as she ruffled Mikado’s fur. But inside she felt cold as death. If Reed was right…this was worse. She wanted to believe that LeRoy Chevalier was behind the murders. She needed to pin a face and a name on the twisted creature stalking the streets of Savannah.

“As I said, Chevalier was, and probably still is, a brute and a bully. Perverted and sick, and without any refinement. What surprised me about the entire case was that Carol Legittel, an educated woman, ever hooked up with him.”

“It happens all the time. Think of the women lawyers who get involved with their clients. Rapists. Murderers. Doesn’t matter. They get sucked in.”

“It’s still stupid.”

“I won’t argue that, but if I remember right, Carol Legittel had lost her job, got no child support from her ex and was taking care of three teenaged kids. She was in debt and teetering on bankruptcy when she met Chevalier. He had a good job with benefits as a trucker. In my opinion, she was desperate.”

“It just seemed that she could have picked someone who swam a little higher in the gene pool.”

“Maybe that’s what attracted her—that he was rough-and-tumble. Who knows?”

“Yeah. Who the hell knows?” Reed muttered.

“Probably no one will ever be able to figure it out. Good night, Reed.” She opened the car door and the interior light blinked on.

“Wait.” He grabbed her arm before she could step outside. “I don’t like the idea of you being here alone tonight.” His voice was low, a whisper that caused an unlikely tingle to run up the back of her neck. Strong fingers curled over her arm.

“Is that a come-on?” she asked, trying to ease the tension.

“I’m just concerned.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?” From his expression it was evident he didn’t believe her.

“So, do you want to come in?” she asked. “Or not?”

He hesitated. Glanced up at her turret apartment. “That wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

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