Page 125 of The Morning After (Savannah 2)

Just as Reed’s El Dorado wheeled into the lot.

Nikki dashed around the puddles in the parking lot and held her purse over her head as a cloudburst drenched the city. She fumbled with the lock on her car door before she realized the Subaru was open. “Stupid,” she muttered, feeling raindrops slide beneath the collar of her coat. In her haste yesterday, she must’ve left the damned car unlocked, inviting anyone in. She was lucky she still had her stereo.

She dropped her purse and laptop onto the passenger seat and finger-combed her hair as she slid behind the wheel. She looked the wreck she was. She’d slept fitfully and only a few hours. But she had to go into work and try to sort through all the clues she had on the Grave Robber. That bastard had her friend and Nikki intended to ferret him out. She’d search the Internet, the archives at the paper, talk to anyone who knew anything about LeRoy Chevalier and the damned trial. Especially the jurors who were still living. Maybe one of them had seen Chevalier recently…and she’d talk to the kid in Dahlonega. And Ken Stern, Carol Legittel’s brother, along with Stephen and Joey Legittel and anyone else connected with the original trial. She’d leave no stone unturned.

Deciding her hair and makeup were a lost cause, she plunged her key into the ignition when she noticed her cell phone in the cup holder.

Her hands froze over the wheel. The phone wasn’t there last night. It wasn’t. She and Reed had looked…Her stomach twisted at the thought that someone had been watching. Waiting. She swallowed hard, glanced through the foggy windows and saw no one. Double checked the backseat and hatch area, but the car was empty. Telling herself not to panic, she picked up the phone and checked for messages…none. But when she looked at the menu for missed calls she saw Simone’s number. “Oh, God.” She bit her lip and pressed the menu button for recent outgoing calls. The last one was Simone’s number.

“Shit.” She blinked hard and was about to call Reed when she noticed the corner of a padded envelope sticking out from under the passenger seat. Some old notes that had slid from her briefcase. But she didn’t remember losing anything.

It was unfamiliar.

Probably left when the phone had been returned. By someone who had been watching her place. Someone who had probably seen her return. With Reed.

Her heart pounded with dread.

Tugging the packet out of its hiding spot, she felt a cold, deadly premonition, a sliver of fear slide down her spine. The packet wasn’t sealed, nor addressed, nor did it have any hint of postage. Inside was a single cassette tape.

From the Grave Robber.

He’d been in her car, not once, but twice. Once to steal her cell phone, the other to return it with this package. All the spit dried in her mouth. Again, she peered frantically through the fogging windows, but she caught no gl

immer of anything out of the ordinary on this gray December morning….

She thought about taking the envelope back to her apartment, locking the door and calling Reed. Instead, she locked the car doors. As if that’ll do any good. He’s got the key, remember? Unless you left it unlocked.

She turned on the ignition and backed out of her space. There was a chance he might be watching, might be hidden in the mist of early morning. With shaking fingers she eased the hatchback out of the lot and headed toward the police station.

At the first red light, she popped the cassette into the tape deck. For a second there was only silence, the hum of the tape running and then a few muffled scratches and scrapes. A sharp bang, the tape hissing, and a woman’s voice.

“Oooh.” A long, lonely, soul-wrenching moan.

The hairs on the back of Nikki’s neck stood on end.

There was a second of silence…then another painful groan.

The spit in Nikki’s mouth dried.

A scrape and more intense moaning.

“Jesus,” Nikki whispered, her heart hammering. “No.” Her mind was racing, her fingers clenching the wheel in a death grip. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t!

More moaning and scraping, frantic clawing and then…oh, God…she heard Simone’s voice as clearly as if her friend were seated in the seat next to her.

“No! Let me out…please…” Simone pleaded.

Nikki’s hand flew to her mouth. She let out a horrified cry. No, no, no! Her eyes and throat burned. Not Simone! NOT SIMONE!

“Help me! Help me! Oh, God, please help me!” Simone screamed above a frantic pounding and scraping.

“Please, no,” Nikki whispered, imagining her friend’s terror, the horror of being locked in a coffin underground.

A loud bang. Then a snap and a yelp.

Nikki jumped. Her foot slid off the brake.

The car jerked forward before she tromped on the brake again. But she didn’t see the traffic nor hear the horns blasting at her. All she heard, all she imagined was her friend. Naked. Cold. Scared out of her wits.

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