Page 133 of The Morning After (Savannah 2)

“Who was Simone with?” she asked.

“A man by the name of Tyrell Demonico Brown.”

“A juror?”

“Yes.”

She sniffed loudly and from the corner of his eye he saw her chin tighten as if she were willing herself to be strong. In more ways than one she was Ronald Gillette’s daughter.

“Get him, Reed,” she said, dashing away her tears. “Get the son of a bitch.”

“I will.” He turned onto a road leading away from the city. “That’s a promise.”

Nikki wanted to believe him. Desperately she wanted to think that justice would be served, that Chevalier would rot in hell for his crimes. “Did you find any other evidence?”

“Another note.”

“Oh, God, no.”

“Addressed to me.”

“What did it say?”

He explained and she listened, horrified. “More? More than twelve? Seventeen,” she whispered as they drove across the bridge to Tybee Island. “Where are we going?”

“Someplace quiet. Just for a little while. To regroup.”

“On Tybee?”

“Got a better idea?”

“I wish.”

They stopped at the beach and walked along the dunes and beach grass, not saying a word, smelling the salty sea air as a thick mist rolled in from the sea. Reed draped an arm over her shoulders and she huddled close to him as her pain lessened and the guilt she clung to so tightly eased a little.

“Are you going to be all right?” he asked and she nodded, squinting up at him, feeling the wind snatch at her hair and pull at the hem of her coat.

“I have to be. We Gillettes, we’re survivors…well, except for Andrew.” She sighed and admitted something she’d held in for twelve years. “I think he committed suicide. There was talk of an accident and that’s what Mom and Dad choose to think, but when you examine the facts, Andrew hated to lose and the fact that he couldn’t get into the law school he wanted, even with Dad’s pull as an alumnus and a judge, Andrew decided to flick it in.” She plunged her hands deep into the pockets of her coat and stared out to sea where the gray water met the dark clouds.

“But you’re different.”

“I hope.” She managed a weak, watery smile. “Okay, Detective, so you brought me out here to help me shake off the guilt and, I assume, to be away from the prying eyes of the other cops and journalists. So, now what?”

He drew her closer still and lowered his head to hers, kissing her so hard, with such desperation that she couldn’t resist him and kissed him back. Over the rush of the sea she heard his heart, steady and strong, felt his heat at odds with the weather, and realized that in the past few days she’d started to fall in love with this brusque, hardheaded cop.

He pressed his tongue against her teeth and she opened to him, clinging to him, feeling his body, hard and wanting beneath his clothes. The winter air swirled around them, the sea pounded the surf, and for just a few vital minutes Nikki forgot about everything, all the pain, all the guilt and grief, everything except this one lone man.

It felt so good to forget. If only for a few minutes.

With a groan, he lifted his head and loosened his hold on her. “I hate to cut this short, really, but I have work to do.”

“We have work to do,” she corrected. “And I’ll take a rain check.”

“You’ll get it.” His tone was soft, his gaze concerned. “You’re sure you’ll be all right?”

“Not all right. But as right as I ever was.”

“Then, I’ll drive you to a car rental agency.”

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