Page 14 of Tell Me (Savannah 3)

He didn’t sound overly perturbed, so she added, “And maybe get a look at the old case files.”

“You’re dreaming.”

The waiter appeared and set two glasses of sweet tea on the table. As he left, she took a sip, feeling the cool liquid slide down her throat.

“Come on, Reed. You don’t have to give me any information that’s classified or whatever you want to call it, nothing that would compromise the case, but—”

“What case? Blondell’s been tried and that’s it. If she gets out of prison, no matter what she did, she’s free. If she’s innocent, she paid a high price. If she’s guilty, the nearly twenty years she’s already served will have to be enough for the state. Either way, there’s not really a case against her. The department will argue, of course, but when it’s all said and done, she may walk. Guilty or not.”

“But the case will be reopened,” she said. “If Blondell didn’t do it, then someone else did. Remember her story of the intruder breaking in.”

“An intruder she didn’t recognize. Maybe it’ll be reopened,” he said dubiously. “I can’t say. I wasn’t there. But Flint Beauregard, the lead on the case, is dead, so there’s no help there. All I can tell you, as a reporter, is that the department thinks they got their man, or woman, in this case.”

The waiter showed up again, this time with their meals—a steaming platter of fried chicken with collard greens and black-eyed peas for Nikki, barbecued ribs, corn bread, and slaw for Reed.

“So when are you going to the prison to try to get that exclusive interview with Blondell?” he asked, raising a dark eyebrow just in case she might try to deny the obvious.

“Crack of dawn tomorrow.”

“I figured.”

“It’s my job, and I need to do it.”

“No argument from me. Have at it.” He was already digging into his ribs. “You know I’m all for your career—supportive as hell, as a matter of fact. Just as long as you stay safe, don’t put yourself into harm’s way again, and don’t push too hard when you try to get information out of me.”

“That sounded like a lot of rules.”

He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Maybe we’ll agree to disagree for now. And then later we could . . .”

“Talk about the case?” She fought a smile.

“That wasn’t really where I was going.”

“Are you coming over, then?”

“I wish. I think it’s going to be a long night for me and an early morning for you. How about a rain check?”

“I can do that,” she said, hiding a stab of disappointment. Though she wanted to find out more about Blondell O’Henry, she let it go. For now. Pushing Reed only put his back up—in fact, he became a brick wall—but if she was patient and didn’t badger him, he’d open up a bit. The trouble was, patience wasn’t her long suit. For now, though, she decided, biting into crispy, butter-flavored chicken, she’d put questioning Reed on the back burner and concentrate on the O’Henrys.

Not only was there Blondell to interview, but her children as well. What was the real reason Niall was intent on changing his testimony? What about his younger sister, Blythe, wheelchair-bound since the terrible attack? And what of Blondell’s husband, Calvin, now remarried? She’d known the O’Henry family far more intimately than anyone, including Detective Pierce Reed, realized, and she knew she had to jump on the story. Quickly. Before anyone else did.

They ended the meal sharing a large slice of hummingbird cake. As light as it was, Nikki could take only two bites of the banana and pecan confection. “Take the rest to the station,” she said when Reed too put down his fork. “I bet someone there will eat it.”

“Trust me, it won’t make it past Morrisette’s desk.”

He motioned for the check. Once it was paid, they walked together to her car. “Going back to the office?” he asked as she drove him to the station.

“Working from home, I think. I’ve got to write the O’Henry article for tomorrow and, in the morning, drive to the prison.”

“She won’t see you,” he said as she slowed for a yellow light two blocks from the police station. “Her attorney won’t allow it.”

“We’ll see.” As the light changed, she turned onto Habersham and eased around Columbia Square, wher

e water cascaded over the ledges of a central fountain and stately live oaks stood guard over the pathways.

Slowing, she edged her Honda to the side of the road to let him out.

He said, “Be careful.”

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