Page 52 of Tell Me (Savannah 3)

Of course he wouldn’t talk to her about the case, nor take her to a police interview. She’d known that, but she still had to try, didn’t she? She wouldn’t be the reporter she was if she didn’t push the boundaries a bit. The truth of the matter was that she was a little nervous. After being a victim herself, she’d had to fight the urge to shy away from tough, life-threatening situations.

Before the Grave Robber, she’d been brash and bold, and would have done just about anything to get close to a story, no matter how dangerous it might be. Now that wasn’t the case. Having been so near to death once before, she was more cautious.

Sometimes too much so.

She’d been working with a psychologist for the past four years, off and on, dealing with her anxiety.

Last night, after making love to Reed, she’d felt wired and energized, while he, exhausted, had fallen asleep. His briefcase had been in the living room, and all she would have had to do was sneak out of bed, pad silently into the living room, and close the door. With him snoring in the bedroom, she could have opened his case and pored over the documents therein or, even better, taken pictures of the most important ones with her smartphone.

But she hadn’t.

Because she loved him.

Because he trusted her.

And because, deep down, she figured there would be a more forthright and honest way to get the information without potentially ruining his case, not to mention their relationship. She still had a source at the department, she thought, though in recent years Cliff Siebert, her brother Andrew’s friend and coworker, had been reticent about giving her information.

Before that Cliff had often talked to Nikki and given her inside tips. She’d protected his anonymity all the while, pretending she didn’t know that he’d been interested in her and maybe, just maybe, had somehow harbored survivor’s guilt after Andrew’s death. Now, however, her relationship with Cliff was thin and strained, but she knew that if she really pressured him, Cliff might give her the information she needed.

However, she would have to go behind Reed’s back to do it, and so far she had resisted that temptation.

Instead of placing a call to Cliff just yet, she sat down and wrote her article on Blythe, then set it aside before she did a final edit. Afterward, she organized her notes, sent out e-mails, checked social media sites, and searched for the people she needed to interview. Of course, Blondell O’Henry was at the top of the list, and she could only hope Reed would grease those skids so she might have a chance to talk to the woman. In the meantime, she listed all the people who knew Blondell best, including the men who could have fathered the baby she’d miscarried. Aside from Blondell’s ex-husband, Calvin, Nikki wanted to locate Roland Camp. The same went for Amity. Nikki knew the kids Amity had hung out with in high school, but she wanted to figure out who could have gotten her pregnant.

Then there was Larry Thompson, Blondell’s lover, who had helped her escape from prison in the garbage truck. Nikki figured that if Blondell had wanted to admit to something different from the story about the stranger with the tattoo, she might have confided in the one person who had risked his life and freedom to spring her. Thompson was out of prison and had been for more than five years, but with his common name, he’d been able to disappear and was hard to track down, though Nikki figured maybe Reed could get to him. Surely the guy had a parole officer.

Yeah, she’d find him somehow. She was nothing if not dogged, and she’d thought she’d located the right L.C. Thompson in Charlotte, North Carolina, though that guy was no longer a journalist and worked as an auto mechanic. Her phone calls to “L.C.” had remained unanswered, but she wasn’t about to give up. She figured she could drive up there and track him down.

After spending a couple of hours at her desk, she stood and stretched, contemplated taking another run, and glanced at her watch. Was Reed already talking to Blondell? Would she change her story? Would Jada Hill even allow her infamous client to speak? Damn, but she wished she was there.

Sitting on the window seat of the bay window, she tried not to think about the interview in progress and instead made more notes to herself. Though she’d interviewed Blythe, she still wanted to talk to the rest of Blondell’s family, especially Niall and Calvin, her ex. Then there was June Hatchett O’Henry, an odd duck if there ever was one. How did she fit into this? Was it coincidental that her church practiced snake handling and Amity O’Henry had been bitten by a snake before she was shot?

She started writing down questions she’d ask the people most closely associated with Blondell and Amity, and within ten minutes she heard the sound of a car rumbling down the back alley. Nikki looked out over her garden and saw a navy-colored BMW swing into the small parking lot. Seconds later her tenant, Charles Arbuckle, climbed out. Leaving the engine running, he hurried up the outdoor stairs to the second floor.

Nikki circled the name Holt Beauregard on her legal pad and wondered how close Flint’s younger son had been to Amity. Why had she never heard of any supposed relationship? At least it would be easy to talk to him, as he was a private investigator in town. It wouldn’t be so easy to check out Amity’s relationship with Elton, her own cousin, since he’d died a couple of months before Amity, and talking to Aunty-Pen about him would only be pouring salt into the wound. But if that was the way it was, so be it. According to Blythe, like Holt, he’d been interested in Amity and possibly dated her.

Could either of them have been the father of her unborn child?

Elton had dated Mary-Beth Emmerson, a girl who had gone to school with Nikki. Elton and Mary-Beth had been a couple, on and off, for at least two years before his death.

“They’re destined to get married, you know,” Hollis had once confided to Nikki after Elton’s car had roared out of the driveway of the McBaine home, the tires of his seventies Porsche squealing on the asphalt of the long drive. A yellow streak, the low-slung car’s engine had whined loudly as the Porsche disappeared around the hedgerow.

“And why is that?” Nikki asked, staring at the empty lane. Even at fourteen she was just getting into boys and was curious about all aspects of the mysterious male-female relationship.

“Because Mother and Daddy approve, that’s why.” Hollis had arched a knowing eyebrow as she and Nikki had returned to the house. “The Emmersons belong to the club, and Mary-Beth’s dad is a doctor. Pediatrician, I think.”

“So what?”

Hollis rolled her eyes upward, as if thinking hard. “So it’s a big deal. Mother said it was a good match.”

“All because Mary-

Beth’s dad is a doctor?” Nikki had found that hard to believe.

Hollis lifted an “I’m just telling you” shoulder. “Compared to some of the other girls Elton’s been hot for, Mary-Beth looks like royalty, and to Mother, that’s important.”

“Then Aunty-Pen must be a snob,” Nikki had decided.

Hollis laughed, amusement filling her sky blue eyes. “Of course she is, Nikki! Come on, really, aren’t we all?”

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