Page 83 of The Morning After (Savannah 2)

“Yeah, you did. And it’s not funny.”

“You’re right. Listen, I think it’s better if we’re not seen together, so let’s go for a drive.”

“A drive? Now?” She glanced around the parking lot.

“Yeah.”

“What is this, are you into some kind of kinky cloak and dagger stuff, or what?” she asked, but fell into step with him and muttered under her breath about feeling as if she were in a bad horror movie as she opened the car door.

“Careful. Dinner’s on the front seat.”

“What? Dinner? This?” She was staring at the greasy bags as he climbed behind the wheel. “Gee, Reed, you really know how to wow a girl.”

“Years of practice.” He eased the big car out of the lot. “And I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be seen together.”

She seemed a little mollified as he drove east on U.S. 80, tires singing on the pavement, dark clouds obliterating the night sky.

Headlights approached, then passed, and Reed double-checked to make sure that no one was following them. He wasn’t lying. If anyone saw him with Nikki Gillette, his job would be in serious trouble.

“Sorry I was late,” she said.

“You had about ten minutes to spare,” he said, slowing for a red light.

“And then what? You’d take off?”

“Something like that.” The light turned green and he took off again, following a few taillights toward the island.

“Real nice,” she mocked, then added, “You weren’t at the press conference.”

“But you didn’t expect me to be.”

She glanced his way and he felt her eyes on him even though he continued to stare through the windshield, turning on the wipers as mist collected on the glass.

“You know I’m off the case.”

“I figured. Is that why you called me?”

“Yep.”

He drove across the bridge and onto Tybee Island, turning instinctively toward the eastern beach.

“You want to give me a story?” She didn’t bother disguising her skepticism.

“Not give. Trade.”

“Really? When you usually avoid me like the plague?”

He kept the speedometer just under the limit so as not to attract any attention. “You noticed.”

“I would have had to have been deaf, dumb and blind not to. Really, Reed, you’ve acted like I was some kind of social pariah.”

“You are. A reporter.”

“Let’s not get into that,” she said quickly. “So, what is it you wanted to trade?”

His fingers tightened over the wheel. “Information.”

“On the Grave Robber.”

---