Page 109 of Tell Me (Savannah 3)

It had to be the only cabin pictured in the laptop’s memory, the very spot Amity O’Henry had been killed.

Why would anyone want to meet there?

Nikki’s first thought was that Effie had set up a meeting with her birth mother, but no way would Penelope Hilton McBaine go to that dilapidated cabin at night. Besides, according to Nikki’s mother, she and Penelope were scheduled to attend the Benefit for the Arts.

So that left Roland, right?

Or someone else?

Another player in all of this?

Someone who could give her a little more insight into the book she was writing.

Nikki thought about it hard. She should crash that meeting, find out what was going on.

Are you crazy? You haven’t forgotten staring nose to nose with a copperhead, have you?

Her doubts kept pounding through her brain, but her determination to learn the truth won as she made her way out of the apartment the way she’d come in, walked around the building again, and slid behind the wheel of her dented Honda.

She could just drive home. It was only a few blocks. That would be the smart thing to do.

Or if she needed to feel as if she were doing something useful, she could even stop by Aunty-Pen’s while she was out and return the keys.

But she didn’t heed any of her saner options. From the second she’d seen the note on Effie’s calendar, she’d known, deep in her heart, what her next plan of action would be.

She took the time to text Reed, saying she was still doing research, but she didn’t have the heart to admit that she was going back to the cabin. Still, she couldn’t go out there and not tell anyone, so she left another text with Trina and asked her to call her in an hour.

Just in case there was trouble.

Then she headed out of town.

“That’s right,” Reed said to the dispatcher, “I want a BOLO alert on Roland Camp’s Dodge pickup.” Driving back to the station, he rattled off the license-plate number and hung up. Maybe he was jumping the gun on Camp. The guy hadn’t done anything illegal that Reed knew of, but there were those missing snakes in Dahlonga and a dead man to go along with them.

Roland Camp could have had nothing to do with Alfred Necarney’s death, but Reed wanted to be sure. Truth to tell, he didn’t like the guy.

His cell phone blasted, startling him out of his thoughts of Camp and Blondell O’Henry and religious ceremonies with snakes.

Adjusting the ear device on his Bluetooth, he said, “Reed.”

“I’m on my way back to the station.” Morrisette’s voice was weak, background noise distorting it a little, as she was also driving. “But I thought I’d give you the rundown. Looks like Flint was the father of Amity O’Henry. The missus finally spilled the beans.” As he maneuvered his Caddy through the streets of the city, she told him a story of statutory rape, unwanted pregnancy, and blackmail. When she was finished, she sounded pleased with herself. “You know, Deacon might just regret forcing another twelve hours on us.”

“Who’re you kidding?” Reed asked, slowing for a traffic light and watching a jogger overtake an older man with a cane who was crossing more slowly. “You would be doing this, deadline or no. You love this.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Hate to admit it, though.” He knew she couldn’t deny what was so patently true. As opposite as she and Reed were, when it came to working doggedly on a case until it was solved, they were totally in sync. Neither could stand a case going cold. “So what about you?”

“I’m looking hard at Roland Camp again.”

“For Amity’s murder?”

“I don’t know. I just found out he has an affinity for poisonous snakes.” He launched into his meeting with the Reverend Byrd and his association with Camp. “Since Roland’s MIA again, I put a BOLO out on him. Just to talk to him.”

“And maybe scare him a little. I like it. You’re kinda pushing the limits,” she said.

“Guess you’ve rubbed off on me.”

“About damned time. I’ll meet you back at the station. I should be there in five.”

“You got it. I’m here already.”

---