Chapter 33
Was she being followed?
Driving home from her meeting with Westin Stark, Nikki kept one eye on the rearview.
Did she see the same silver SUV behind her, maybe two cars back?
Her heartbeat accelerated as she saw it take the same series of corners she did.
“It’s nothing,” she said aloud, but remembered how she’d thought she was being observed the other day at the horse barns, how she’d sensed an evil presence.
Now, she made sure her phone was within easy reach.
Fingers tight over the wheel, and telling herself that she was being paranoid, she changed course.
Instead of her normal route, she followed a twisting, circuitous path through the historic district, turning back toward the river.
With the silver vehicle still a few cars behind her, she drove out of Savannah proper entirely, heading toward the airport for several miles before doubling back.
She lost visual contact with the SUV.
Still nervous, she steadied her breath, took a few more unexpected corners.
No silver vehicle appeared in her rearview.
No SUV darted from an alley to track her.
Good.
She calmed a bit, but still took the back streets toward Forsyth Park before finally pulling into her driveway. Using an extra remote she’d scrounged from one of the junk drawers, she pulled into the garage and parked near Pierce’s Caddy.
“Don’t be crazy,” she warned herself. She was probably just overreacting due to the recent homicides, Naomi Kittle’s disappearance, and her own history of near-death experiences.
Tonight, she was safe.
Her family was safe.
She’d interviewed a preacher tonight, a man of God, not some master criminal, and yet she’d let her imagination run wild.
Pierce’s Jeep was MIA, which, considering the current state of crime in Savannah, wasn’t a surprise, but she was disappointed.
Once inside, she was greeted by the dogs, who were, she noted, not as obedient as those in Westin Stark’s small pack.
“Shhh. Babies are sleeping,” she whispered to them, as she petted their eagerly wiggling bodies and made her way to the kitchen.
An open bottle of wine stood on the counter.
“Well, at least I hope the girls are down for the night.”
“They are.” Lily was curled on the couch with a book, a glass of red beside her, the TV on mute. She didn’t bother rising, but smiled and picked up her nearly empty glass, wiggling it slightly in invitation, “Join me?”
“Not tonight.”
“Don’t tell me.” She mock-pouted. “Work again?” One eyebrow cocked. “You know what they say about ‘all work and no play,’ don’t you?”
“That it makes Nikki a dull boy? Or girl? Or woman? Or whatever?”
Lily grinned. “Close enough, but I was going to add that it’s a sure way to end up on a psychiatrist’s couch.”
“As if I needed another reason,” Nikki agreed, thinking of her near–panic attack that someone might be following her and how it had delayed her arrival home.
She did need to unwind and chill out. “Okay, you convinced me.” She poured herself a small glass, then carried the bottle around the island to the couch where Lily was cuddled.
Adding a splash of wine to her sister’s drink, she asked, “How did it go?”
“With the girls?” Lily shrugged. “Good.”
“No trouble getting Chloe to bed?” Nikki sat on an ottoman, and Arlo settled down on the floor next to her.
“She wanted two more stories and umpteen glasses of water, which I cut off after three, but the truth was she was worn out. We hit the park today with the dogs, and she was beside herself, running all around.” Lily continued on about the day, while Nikki picked up the remote and scanned the news.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Wrestling the device from Nikki’s fingers, Lily turned off the television.
“Full attention. Mom tried to ‘convince’ me to attend the funeral tomorrow, but I declined. I told her that you’d meet Kyle and her at the …
let’s call them ‘festivities.’ I figured you’d want your own wheels.
Or maybe go with Pierce. I didn’t think you’d want to be yoked to Charlene and her need to socialize with the All Christian group. ”
“You’re sounding like an atheist.”
“If the halo fits,” Lily said, taking a swallow. She then swirled the wine in her glass and stared at the dark liquid. “I am spiritual. Even believe in God, but not as the Judeo-Christian patriarchal manifestation that organized religion considers Her to be.”
“Just how much of this,” Nikki asked, lifting her glass, “have you had?”
“Definitely not enough.” She thought for a second. “One glass … well, one and a half and then what you poured in. Just enough to relax. So. Don’t go all teetotaler on me.”
“I’m not.” And to prove it, Nikki took a long sip. “But thanks for giving me an out tomorrow. I do want my own car.”
“Thought so.” Lily was obviously proud of herself. She set her glass on the side table. “Has anyone heard from Naomi yet? I watched a little of the local news and scrolled through the feed on my phone, but didn’t see anything.”
“Same here.”
“How worried are you?”
“Pretty worried,” Nikki admitted. “Because Pierce and Jamison are, and I haven’t heard anything that suggests she’s done this kind of thing before.
She doesn’t seem flighty, the type to leave the kids and hubby in a huff.
” Absently petting Arlo’s head, she decided not to share what she knew about Knox Quinlan.
“Naomi’s pretty dedicated to her girls, wouldn’t want to worry them. ”
“What about leaving her husband? If you ask me, Jamison Kittle is more than a little bit of a pompous ass. One of those sons who are suns, like in the solar system. You know the kind. A prince who thinks everyone orbits around them? Trust me, I’ve met more than my share, and Jamison has all the earmarks. ”
“He’s an ADA.”
“An ambitious ADA.”
“So?”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“Hmm.” Nikki finished her drink and stood. “Now, since I’ve officially ‘played,’ I need to go upstairs.”
“And work. I know. Booorrrring.” Lily rolled her expressive eyes.
Nikki disagreed. Her work was frustrating, time-consuming, and oftentimes, she felt like she was spinning her wheels, but what she did was seldom boring.
With Arlo on her heels, she stopped by Chloe’s room, where her daughter was fast asleep. Unaware of the dangers of the world. An innocent lamb.
The way it should be, Nikki thought, walking to the window to adjust the shades in her room. Looking outside to the front of the house, she spied a silver SUV drive slowly by.
Her heart stilled.
The same vehicle that she’d seen earlier?
It was big. Possibly American made? Like a Chevy Tahoe? Or Suburban? She caught a glimmer of the distinctive bow-tie shape on the rear and the license plate, which was local, but couldn’t distinguish the lettering.
Don’t freak.
The large vehicle turned at the corner and the edge of the park.
Nerves tight, she stood by the window, staring at the street while her baby slept soundly. Unaware of any danger.
Minutes passed.
Nikki didn’t move.
Several more cars and one pickup drove by.
But no big, silver SUV.
Nothing nefarious.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
You’re making villainous mountains out of innocuous molehills.
Finally, she lowered the shade. For a second, she considered calling Pierce, then thought better of it. He had a lot on his plate with the homicides and Naomi’s disappearance. Nikki didn’t want to add to his stress, nor did she want to come off as a woman jumping at shadows, easily panicked.
With a last glance at her sleeping daughter, she headed to her office and forced her thoughts to the article she needed to submit about Naomi Kittle’s disappearance. Not that she had much to work with. But she wanted to give something to Fink that he could publish.
The room was hot, stuffy with the day’s heat, so she cracked the window and listened to the sounds of the night.
The soft rush of a breeze through the leaves of the magnolia and somewhere a frog croaking.
So peaceful. So serene. So at odds with the chaos and near-panic that the city was feeling because of the Savannah Slasher.
She also wrote an update on the serial-killer case, but there was little new information that she could divulge.
She was certain Fink would balk and demand more.
“Too bad,” she muttered under her breath.
It wasn’t as if she were holding back on purpose; she’d like nothing more than exposing the serial killer terrorizing the city.
So far, she’d kept her agreement with Pierce, though when she saw her husband again, she was going to press him for more details on the homicides, ones she could report.
To date, her “exclusive” end of their bargain hadn’t given her an edge over the new age of media.
Even television news was beginning to appear old-school, with all of the podcasts and social media dominating the industry.
“Reporters” were everywhere, and information hit the Internet almost before it happened.
Print newspapers, including the Sentinel, were quickly becoming dinosaurs on the edge of extinction.
Every day, Tom Fink was struggling to save the paper. No wonder he was always on edge.
“Adapt or die,” she said and put the finishing touches on her article.
By the time she was finished and on her way to bed, she heard Lily in the hall bath and saw a text from Pierce that he was on his way home.
At last.
She couldn’t help but smile when she heard the garage door rumble up and down, then the familiar jangle of his keys as he dropped them onto the table near the back door. His footsteps were soft against the stairs, and he stopped at Chloe’s room before slipping inside their bedroom.
“Finally,” she said from her pillow and reached to turn on the bedside lamp. “About damned time, Detective.”
“Yeah, it’s been a long one.” He sat on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes.
“Anything new on Naomi?” she asked.
“No.” He shook his head, his shoulders slumping a bit. “Nothing.”
“Has anyone talked to Knox Quinlan?”