Page 22 of The Morning After (Savannah 2)

Tina’s grin took on Cheshire-like proportions. “Just a message from Sean…”

“Sean?” Nikki’s heart squeezed and she felt that old, familiar unwanted pain. “What did he say?”

“That he’d be in town and wanted to, let me see…what was the exact phrase? ‘Hook up.’”

“Fat chance.” Nikki wasn’t going down that road again.

“Why not, Nik? It’s been what? Ten, twelve years?”

“Almost, and I say, ‘once a liar and a cheat, always a liar and a cheat.’”

“Maybe he’s grown up.”

What were the chances of that? “Anything else?” Nikki asked, refusing to think about Sean Hawke with his devil-may-care attitude, bad-boy smile and chiseled body. It was over. Period. She didn’t believe in redemption, wouldn’t take the time. Didn’t want to be “friends” even if it were possible. Which it wasn’t. “Any other messages?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” This wasn’t much of a surprise as most people called her on her cell, which was just as well, considering Celeste’s state of incompetence. She was twenty-four and, in Nikki’s opinion, completely brainless. Why else would she be involved with Fink who had a daughter from his first marriage about Celeste’s age? The fact that he was currently married to wife number two and had two kids in elementary school didn’t seem to permeate Celeste’s brain, either, and her continued remarks that Fink’s marriage was “dead” and that he and the wife were “living separate lives” and “only staying together for the kids” turned Nikki’s stomach. But then, nearly everything about Fink did.

As if he’d read her thoughts, he walked by and said, “Nikki. Come into my office when you get a minute.”

Trina melted into her cubicle.

Great, Nikki thought, her headache returning with a vengeance. She grabbed her purse and followed Fink, who walked with the easy ambling gait of an ex-jock. He was still neat and trim, his once-dark hair now shot with silver, his wardrobe leaning toward khakis and polo shirts, as if he’d just come from the golf course. He opened the door to his glass-paneled room and waited for her to enter. Ever the gentleman, she thought sarcastically as he motioned her into one of the side chairs and took his position at the desk, one leg hoisted over the corner, hands clasped over his knee. “I heard you were up at Dahlonega the last couple of days.”

It hadn’t taken Metzger long to break the news. “Actually, just a little over twenty-four hours, but, yeah, I was there, right,” she admitted, watching Fink’s foot swing.

“Any particular reason?” He was stone-cold serious, his eyes steady, his lips a thin line.

“I wanted to know what was going on with the grave the police found.”

“I gave that story to Norm.”

She nodded. “And he didn’t like it that I went up there.”

“Let’s just say he was concerned.”

“Why?”

“He thinks you’re trying to beat him to the punch.”

“So, he’s threatened?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Nikki was tired and angry. Her tongue got away from her. “You implied it. Look, I don’t see what it hurts that I drove up there. My work hasn’t suffered. Metzger still has his story. What’s the problem?”

“Maybe there isn’t one,” Fink said, though his expression didn’t change. “I didn’t call you in here to tell you to back off or to remind you to be careful of stepping on someone’s toes. Not at all. In fact, I think a little competition is good as long as you remember that you and Norm are on the same team. What I want from you as well as him is the best story possible.”

“So, you’re not telling me to leave it alone.”

“It’s Norm’s piece. You know that. Respect it. But, no, you don’t have to leave it alone. As long as you don’t ignore your own work.”

“That’s it?” she asked, dumbstruck.

“That’s it.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “What? You thought I was going to ream you out?”

“At least.”

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