Page 49 of Tell Me (Savannah 3)

A baby. She smiled to herself as Mikado raced into the kitchen and danced at her feet while she, by rote, found him a tiny scrap of a biscuit. In her early twenties she hadn’t thought much about children, but then Lily had brought Phee into the world and Nikki had done a quick one-eighty. For the first time, she’d envisioned herself having a child, a cousin for little Phee, and had imagined them playing together. Of course, she’d been

with Sean then, and thankfully that relationship had disintegrated. The bad news was that the years since then had rolled quickly by, and now, even if she got pregnant on her wedding night, there would be nearly seven years between the cousins. Quite a gap. But certainly not one that couldn’t be bridged.

The little dog barked again, demanding attention or food, probably the latter. “Enough,” she said. “Dinner was over hours ago.” While Mikado was a frenetic bundle of energy with an insatiable appetite, Jennings, always looking for a place to curl up, could barely be bothered with the mundane task of eating. Tonight’s Tuna and Chicken Delight, guaranteed to make any housecat’s mouth water, had been left, untouched as usual, and she’d been forced to put the bowl on the counter, out of marauding Mikado’s quick eye and sharp nose. Unlike Jennings, Mikado always found the cat’s food absolutely enticing.

Her cell phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket. Reed’s name and picture appeared on the display and she felt her heart soar.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Guess.”

“Still at the station.”

“Yeah, but on my way, in”—he paused, as if checking his watch—“less than an hour.”

“Dinner’s cold,” she told him.

“You cooked?” Disbelief tinged his words.

“In my fashion. Thai takeout.”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“Depends upon who’s the judge.”

“Doesn’t matter. I can reheat. You have a microwave.”

“My most-used kitchen appliance.”

He chuckled. “And I have a confession to make: I had barbecue two hours ago.”

“Of course you did.” She smiled, leaning a hip against the kitchen counter and stared through her window. “So how’s it going?”

“Slowly. Tomorrow I have to run up to Statesboro.”

“What?” she said, suddenly all ears. “You’re interviewing Blondell at Fairfield Prison?”

“I figured that would get your interest.”

“You have to take me with you! I’ve been trying to see her since this story broke.”

“You know I can’t do that,” he said. “It would break all kinds of policies and rules. The reason I’m telling you now is for you to digest it, work it out, and deal with it.”

“Because you knew it would be a fight.”

“Well . . .” He trailed off. “I’ll be home in half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes.”

“Fine, I’ll see you then.”

“I can’t be talked out of this, Nik. This is my job.” He hung up, but she held onto her phone for a minute longer. This was going to be a problem, but she wasn’t going to let it get the better of her. All problems had solutions; she just had to find hers.

Climbing the spiral staircase to her loft, she was working on the list of people she wanted to interview when she heard footsteps on the building’s interior stairs and smiled when the familiar click of a lock announced Reed was home.

“I’m up here,” she called down the stairs and saved the information on her computer before hurrying down to the living area. Reed had already tossed his keys onto a small table near the front door and hung his jacket on a curved arm of her hall tree. “Beat?” she asked and without invitation threw her arms around his neck.

“Beyond.” The dark shadow of his beard, deepening crow’s feet near the corners of his eyes, and wrinkled shirt attested to his state of mind. But he kissed her just the same, strong arms wrapping around her, hands flat and warm as they pressed against her back. When he lifted his head, he kept the tip of his nose within a hairbreadth of hers as he gazed down upon her. “What about you?”

“Rarin’ to go.”

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