Page 10 of The Third Grave (Savannah 4)

She nodded. “Let’s hope we don’t find any more.”

Amen, he thought. Two was more than enough.

CHAPTER 3

Her abdomen was still flat as a board.

Her red-blond hair caught in a messy bun, Nikki Gillette turned slowly in front of the full-length mirror. She was wearing only her bra and panties as she surveyed her image. Still no hint of the baby growing within her and she was ten weeks pregnant. Ten weeks! After months of trying to conceive and two heartbreaking miscarriages within the first weeks of pregnancy, she finally was closing in on her second trimester. “You hang in there,” she whispered to her unborn child, then pulled on a T-shirt and jeans that were, she had to admit, a little snug around the waist. But she didn’t care. Not at all.

Bring on the ice cream.

Bring on the donuts.

Whatever the baby inside her wanted, she’d devour . . . well, within reason. She hurried downstairs and flopped onto the couch as her phone started to buzz. News alerts. She was, after all, still a

reporter for the Savannah Sentinel and had to keep abreast of what was going on.

Probably something about Hurricane Jules, which had thankfully not destroyed the old historic part of Savannah, where she called home. She wasn’t all that interested, until she noticed that police units had been dispatched to the old Beaumont estate.

Why?

The place had been abandoned for years. As she understood it, the current owner, a Beaumont heir, either Baxter Beaumont, now in his seventies, or his son, Tyson, had been trying to parcel it off and sell it, letting the old plantation house go to seed, but had been fighting with the historical society for years.

Interesting.

She did a quick sweep of the Internet but found nothing.

So the news was fresh.

Probably not a big deal.

Maybe squatters found on the property.

Or a poacher caught hunting in the off season.

Or...

She called the office of the newspaper, got hold of Millie Foxx, a recent hire who contributed to the online edition of the Savannah Sentinel, where Nikki still worked. In the past few years Nikki actually spent little time in the office and did most of her writing, editing and communicating from home, but luckily Millie, all of twenty-two and serious beyond her years, nearly camped out on the computers at the newspaper’s offices.

“So what’s up?” Nikki asked. “At the Beaumont estate.”

“We’re trying to run it down. I thought you’d know. Homicide’s been called in.”

“Someone was killed?”

“Unconfirmed. But looks like. I was about to call you. I figured you could maybe talk to Pierce.”

“Hmm.” Pierce Reed was Nikki’s husband, but... “You know how he feels about that.” Everyone at the Sentinel knew. Detective Reed had made his position clear about his wife not getting involved in police business, which was pretty damned difficult as Nikki not only worked at the paper but had three true-crime books under her belt. “I’ll check, though.”

“Do it,” Millie said. “From the police band activity, I think something big’s going on there and I thought you’d want a heads-up before Metzger gets interested.”

Millie was right about that. More than right. Metzger was such a pain in the rear. “You got it,” Nikki said. “In the meantime, can you keep checking to see if there’s any more info coming from the police. Like who called in the report?”

“Hmm. Don’t know. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Good. Later.” Nikki clicked off.

She smiled to herself as she grabbed her keys and slipped her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans. A murder? At the Beaumont estate?

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