Chapter 33 #3
Ignoring the maternal pang of envy about Lily’s outing with the girls, she said, “I’ll keep you posted,” and then hung up and backed out of the parking space.
It was her decision to keep working once Chloe had come into the world, and she didn’t regret it for the most part, but a little tiny voice in her head kept reminding her, You’re missing out on a unique time that is so precious and oh so fleeting.
“It’s a balancing act,” she said aloud and noticed a big, silver SUV parked at the edge of the lot.
So what?
There were dozens of similar vehicles in the city.
And yet … She felt a chill deep in her bones and thought about sticking around, seeing who was behind the wheel.
But she couldn’t. Not now. Not when Naomi Kittle might be found. She took a picture of the vehicle, including the license plate, then took off.
She drove out of the city limits and hit the gas, pushing the speed limit and rolling up the windows as the air-conditioning kicked in.
Traffic waned, and the suburbs gave way to farmland.
She was momentarily bottlenecked by a tractor chugging along under twenty miles an hour, but she was able to pass and keep moving.
Nikki had witnessed the river being dredged before, and once she’d watched as an escaped trailer stacked with hay was winched out of a pond.
But this was different. This could be someone she knew; in fact, she had the cold, gnawing fear that the car being dragged from the river belonged to Naomi.
Her insides tightened at the thought. If the car did turn out to be Naomi’s, then most likely she was still inside.
Seeing a body pulled from the river would be difficult. Recognizing the dead person as someone she knew, worse. A vision that might haunt her the rest of her days.
Especially since Nikki herself had nearly drowned.
And Sylvie Morrisette had died in the water that same day.
“God help me,” she whispered, taking a final turn and seeing the police cars and ambulance already parked near the river in a wide spot on the road that opened to a dusty track and a boat launch for small craft.
A tow truck was idling at the shoreline, its lights flashing, its cables already hooked to something beneath the water. Police and a fire crew swarmed along the bank, and a diver in a wet suit had pulled off his mask and stood dripping on the sunbaked rocks near the water’s edge.
Nikki parked on the gravel shoulder and stepped outside, only to be stopped by a deputy in uniform and mirrored sunglasses, as she tried to walk closer to the river.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. This area is restricted.”
“It’s all right,” she started to argue to get a closer look, but stopped short when she saw, from the distance, the white Mercedes, covered in mud as it was being winched from the river.
Her heart stuttered. The car was identical to the Mercedes she’d seen at the riding academy.
All hope that it belonged to someone other than Naomi vanished.
Her throat grew tight as she watched water cascade down the sides of the vehicle in a noisy rush.
The windshield was smashed, the windows rolled down.
Escape routes, she thought, hoping Naomi had somehow survived.
She saw there was no body strapped behind the steering wheel, thank God, nor did it appear as if anyone had been dragged from the river, as the ambulance was still waiting.
Had Naomi somehow escaped a watery death?
She swallowed back a swell of nausea that climbed up her throat. “Dear God,” she whispered, imagining Naomi’s panic.
If she’d been in the vehicle.
Nikki wondered if she’d been alone.
Or had there been someone with her?
The passenger side window was rolled down.
As were the windows of the back seat and even the rear.
How had that happened?
Again, Nikki scanned the slow-moving river and its narrow, brushy banks. A dozen questions swept through her mind.
What had happened here? Where the hell was Naomi? If, indeed, she had been in the muddy vehicle. Could someone else have been driving? Could she have been the victim of a carjacking? If so—why hadn’t she called?
As the Mercedes was being pulled onto the flatbed, she caught Pierce’s attention.
With a wave, he walked her way, but, as if anticipating her first question, shook his head.
“No body,” he said, “But it’s Naomi’s car.
Registered to Jamison. The license plate matches, and divers found her purse and ID inside. ”
She was still staring at the wet, grimy vehicle, once sleek, now covered in sludge. “What about in the trunk?” she asked, fearing the answer.
“Empty.”
Nikki felt a moment’s relief. “So where is she?”
“That’s the million-dollar question.”
“How did the car end up in the river?” she asked, watching as the water lapped the shore. A snowy egret skimmed the surface as it flew away.
“Unknown.”
“But you’ve seen the footage of her driving back into Georgia?”
He nodded grimly.
“And you’re sure it was Naomi behind the wheel, when you said she crossed the state line?”
“We’re enhancing the images from the cameras, but we think so.”
“No one else in the car?” she asked.
“Looks like she was alone.” He swatted at a mosquito hovering near his head and squinted up at the flatbed, where the car was being secured before it was taken to the forensic vehicle examination lab. “We should know more once we go through it.”
“You’ve called Jamison?”
“Yeah.” Pierce squinted against the afternoon sun. “He’s on his way back from Charlotte.”
“And the girls?” She just had to confirm that they were okay.
“Coming back on Monday, I think with Naomi’s sister, Roxie. Her husband is going to handle their kids, to free her up so she can spend some time down here to support Jamison and the girls, at least until things settle down.”
“And when will that be?”
Again he swatted at a bothersome mosquito, his eyes still on Naomi’s car being strapped to the flatbed of the tow truck. “God only knows.”
Sol didn’t like it.
She stood on the edge of the river, just around the bend, alone, her gaze on the water, her senses attuned to the sounds, sights, and smells of this part of the lowlands.
With the sun beating down on her scalp, she listened to the chirp of birds and the steady croak of a frog hidden in the cattails and dense foliage.
The water lapped rhythmically, adding a quiet beat to the steady hum of insects, while the air smelled damp, of wet earth and running water.
She heard the voices of men shouting orders, the clank of the winch, and the grumbling of the drag of the car as it was hauled upward out of the river, but she closed out those unnatural noises and let her mind focus on the natural sounds while the slightest breeze whispered against her skin.
Something was off.
The balance of energy between what was real and what was perceived had been skewed somehow.
By someone.
Someone with malicious intent.
She went over what she knew about the missing woman, and it wasn’t much, just what she’d witnessed when Naomi had come into the office, which was rarely, and then recently what Reed had divulged because of the case, that the ADA and his wife had scheduled a romantic weekend when she hadn’t shown up.
That they, with three stepping-stone daughters, were planning on another baby.
She doubted that would come to pass.
As a breeze cooled the beads of perspiration on her forehead, Sol didn’t need anyone to tell her that the woman for whom they were searching wouldn’t be found. Not here. Not in the water.
She stared at the sluggish river, the slow-moving current.
Naomi Kittle’s energy wasn’t lingering here, nor, she thought, had it ever been.
She felt no remaining aura.
Not even in the slightest.
No, she thought, bending down to pick up a little of the moist soil touched by the river, rubbing the fine grains between her fingers.
They wouldn’t locate Naomi Kittle here.
No matter how long or deep they searched.