Page 48 of The Morning After (Savannah 2)

“Please don’t quote me. I can’t afford to lose my job.” The girl bit at the corner of her glossed lips nervously and checked her watch for the third time as soft jazz emanated from the speakers and the aproned cashiers behind the counter called out orders. Lindsay was on her morning coffee break and already jumpy. The triple shot of espresso in her nonfat latte wouldn’t help calm her down. She’d refused to open up to a tape recorder but had allowed Nikki to take notes.

“Okay, I won’t. No names. I promise. So, tell me about Bobbi Jean. When did you last see her?”

“Two mornings before I found out that she…” Lindsay gulped. “…that she was dead…God, that’s so horrible. I mean, to be buried alive…with some decaying corpse, trapped in a coffin.” She shuddered and reached for her coffee with a trembling hand. “I already talked to the police, you know, and I told them everything I know about her, which isn’t a whole lot.” Anxiously, she licked the foam from her lips. “Except…”

“Except what?” Nikki saw the hesitation in the girl’s eyes. As if she had a secret she wanted to unburden.

“Oh…God…I…I caught her throwing up one morning just after we opened. It was just about a week ago. I had to run the store by myself for about half an hour. When she came out of the bathroom she was so pale. White as a ghost.” Lindsay leaned closer, across the table, and whispered, “I mean, like, I was sure she had the flu or something and that she should go home, but when I suggested she call someone in to cover for her, she wouldn’t hear of it. She said a day in bed wouldn’t help her at all, in fact, that’s what had started the problem. I didn’t get it…not really, but I suspected…I’d seen an opened pregnancy test package in the garbage a few weeks ago, but didn’t know who it belonged to. We have a lot of girls working there, so it could have been anyone’s. But now…” She lifted a slim shoulder. “I, um, I think it was Bobbi’s.”

“But she was separated from her husband,” Nikki said, adrenaline shooting through her blood. The victim had been pregnant at the time of her death? This was news that hadn’t come out of the police department, something they were holding back. If it was true.

“Yeah, I know, but sometimes people get back together.”

“Had they?”

Lindsay cast a look through the window to the sidewalk outside. Pedestrians were walking quickly, umbrellas open, coats pulled tight to their collars. “Not that I know of, and Bobbi…well, she dated other guys.”

Nikki nearly came out of her chair. She scribbled quickly. “Do you know their names?”

“Uh-uh. I don’t think anyone did because Bobbi was in the middle of her divorce and didn’t want to screw up her chances of getting money from her ex—well, her husband, well, you know, Jerome.”

“But surely the men would call her at the store.”

Blank eyes blinked. Twirled a finger in her dark ringlets. “I guess.”

“You didn’t take any of the calls?”

“Not that I know of. Guys called all the time, you know, to shop for their wives or girlfriends.” Lindsay pursed her lips and her eyebrows drew together as if she were really thinking hard. Meanwhile, the loudspeaker called out, “Double fudge mocha nonfat with whipped cream.”

“No one special?”

“No…but…you know, I just had this feeling that one of the guys was a cop.”

“Why?” A cop? Who?

“Little remarks, I guess. She teas

ed about handcuffs and being frisked and guys with big nightsticks and…all that double entendre stuff.” She really twisted on the curl now. “Oh, maybe I was just imagining things. I shouldn’t have said anything. What does it matter? She’s dead. But that’s why I couldn’t talk to the police—I didn’t know who he was, didn’t want to get anyone into trouble. It was just too fucked up, y’know?” Lindsay chewed on her lower lip for a second, forsook the lock of hair to pick up her paper coffee cup and said, “Look, I really have to go. My break is over and I don’t know anything else.” She scooted out her chair as quickly as if she expected an angry god to hurl a lightning bolt through the table if she stayed a second longer.

“Call me if you think of anything else,” Nikki called, catching up with her at the door and handing her the business card she’d tucked into the pocket of her jeans.

Lindsay stared at the card as if Satan’s name and phone number were engraved beneath Savannah Sentinel. “No, I don’t know anything else. Really.” She was backing toward the door and nearly ran into a guy trying to fold his umbrella. Raindrops littered the floor. “Oh! Sorry,” Lindsay mumbled quickly and was out the door. She jaywalked toward the square opposite the jewelry store.

Nikki didn’t waste any time. She grabbed her cup and walked into the gloom. Though it was late morning, the winter day was dark. Somber. Rain pouring off the awning. She splashed her way to her car, climbed inside and tried to start it. The engine didn’t catch. “Oh, no, ya don’t,” she said under her breath, but the hatchback only coughed twice. “Come on, come on…no need to be temperamental.” Lord, she had to take the little car into the shop. It was in severe need of regular maintenance.

The police band crackled, but she didn’t catch the call.

On the third try the old engine fired and Nikki checked her side view mirror before pulling away from the curb. Her cell phone jangled at the next stoplight and she fumbled in her purse before finding the damned thing and catching it on the third chirp. “This is Nikki,” she said, negotiating the turn while juggling her coffee.

“Hi, babe.”

Her heart plummeted and she nearly dropped the coffee as she imagined her ex-boyfriend’s face—strong jaw, dark beard shadow, even darker eyes. Mysterious eyes. Lying eyes. Nearly black hair long enough to scrape his collar. “Sean. I heard you were in town.”

“You didn’t call me back.”

Did he sound pouty? Hurt? Sean? No way! She took a sip of her drink, then managed to force it into her cup holder with only a minimum of spillage. “I really didn’t see a reason to phone.” The light changed, but another car flew through the intersection. “Idiot!”

Sean chuckled. Low and sexy. “That’s me.”

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