The Morning After (42 page)

“But I was careless.”

“Didn’t matter.” He guided the car around a final corner, then pulled into the lot and took the empty space next to Nikki’s Subaru. “He would have found a way to get to her. Your phone provided the vehicle, but if he hadn’t been able to use your cell, he would have found something else. This creep has a plan.” Reed turned off the ignition and the engine died, ticking as it cooled.

“I still feel responsible,” she admitted, reaching for the door handle as condensation blurred the windows, building a flimsy barrier to the outside world.

“So do I.”

“You aren’t her best friend.” She petted Mikado and his stub of a tail wiggled.

“No, not her friend. Didn’t even know her. I’m just a cop. Trying to nail the son of a bitch. It’s my job. So far, I’ve failed.”

“A wise man once told me ‘Don’t beat yourself up thinking about it.’” She forced a humorless smile as she threw his words back at him.

“Not so wise, I think, but I do try to take his advice.”

“You’ll catch Chevalier.”

He nodded, but rubbed the back of his neck and scowled into the darkness beyond the windshield. “Yeah, he can’t get far.” There was a hint of doubt in his voice—one Nikki hadn’t heard before.

“But…”

“But what?” she asked and saw the consternation tightening the skin over his face, the hesitation in his eyes as he squinted into oncoming headlights. “There’s something more bothering you about this, isn’t there?”

“There’s a lot that bothers me.”

“Come on, Reed, spill it. And don’t give me any guff about not reporting it, because we’re way past that, okay? I know whatever we talk about here is ‘off the record.’” As if to add emphasis to her words, Mikado growled and yipped, his breath fogging the passenger window even more. When he didn’t answer, she said, “Come on. What is it? Something’s bothering you.”

“Oh, hell.” Reed’s fingers gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles blanched. “Something’s not hanging together with this one. I want the killer to be Chevalier in the worst way. I want to nail his hide to the wall and I’m sure Chevalier’s tied up in the murders. They’re all about him and the jury panel that convicted him, but I remember LeRoy Chevalier as a brutal, useless piece of shit. He was secretive. Nasty. Dark. A person who would terrorize members of his own girlfriend’s family. Torture them. I don’t see him writing little poems, childish poems, really, and taunting us into a game, if that’s what you’d call it. He wasn’t the least bit cerebral. And unless he’s spent the last twelve years honing his computer skills, I can’t see him as having the brains, nor the means, nor the desire to bait us. He got out. Picked up the ‘get out of jail free’ card, so why throw it all away? Nah, I’m missing a piece here. I just can’t figure out what it is.”

“I don’t understand,” she said as she ruffled Mikado’s fur. But inside she felt cold as death. If Reed was right…this was worse. She wanted to believe that LeRoy Chevalier was behind the murders. She needed to pin a face and a name on the twisted creature stalking the streets of Savannah.

“As I said, Chevalier was, and probably still is, a brute and a bully. Perverted and sick, and without any refinement. What surprised me about the entire case was that Carol Legittel, an educated woman, ever hooked up with him.”

“It happens all the time. Think of the women lawyers who get involved with their clients. Rapists. Murderers. Doesn’t matter. They get sucked in.”

“It’s still stupid.”

“I won’t argue that, but if I remember right, Carol Legittel had lost her job, got no child support from her ex and was taking care of three teenaged kids. She was in debt and teetering on bankruptcy when she met Chevalier. He had a good job with benefits as a trucker. In my opinion, she was desperate.”

“It just seemed that she could have picked someone who swam a little higher in the gene pool.”

“Maybe that’s what attracted her—that he was rough-and-tumble. Who knows?”

“Yeah. Who the hell knows?” Reed muttered.

“Probably no one will ever be able to figure it out. Good night, Reed.” She opened the car door and the interior light blinked on.

“Wait.” He grabbed her arm before she could step outside. “I don’t like the idea of you being here alone tonight.” His voice was low, a whisper that caused an unlikely tingle to run up the back of her neck. Strong fingers curled over her arm.

“Is that a come-on?” she asked, trying to ease the tension.

“I’m just concerned.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?” From his expression it was evident he didn’t believe her.

“So, do you want to come in?” she asked. “Or not?”

He hesitated. Glanced up at her turret apartment. “That wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

Disappointment cut through her, but she managed a wry smile. “Then, don’t.”

“Isn’t there anywhere else you can stay?”

“This is my home. I changed the locks.” She managed a thin smile. “And now, with Mikado, I’ve got a guard dog.”

Reed snorted as he glanced at the mutt. “Yeah, he’s major protection, all right. Can’t you stay with your folks?”

“I’m not thirteen, Reed,” she said, remembering the sleepless night she’d had in her old bed with shards of her parents’ fights running through her head. “And I wasn’t on the jury of the Chevalier trial, so I’m not an intended victim. I don’t think I’m in any danger.”

The hand around her sleeve tightened and the skin of his face drew taut with concern. “No one’s safe. Not while he’s on the loose. What about staying with your sister?”

Nikki shrank from the thought as she imagined overbearing, petulant Lily. The I-told-you-sos wouldn’t be so much spoken as intimated. “Let’s not even go there. Lily is about three steps up from the Grave Robber. And my brother Kyle is a head case as well as allergic to dog dander. Neither of them will want me knocking at his or her door in the middle of the night. Besides, I can’t let anyone force me from my home.” Grabbing her purse, she pulled free of his grasp. “Not even the Grave Robber.”

“He’s more than a name in one of your stories, Nikki. He’s a cold-blooded killer. A guy who gets his jollies by burying people alive. I know you replaced the locks, but big deal. He got in once before. We just assume he had a key, but locks can be picked.”

“Now I’ve got a dead bolt.”

“Which isn’t a guarantee.”

“You’re trying to scare me.”

“Damn straight, I am.”

“Okay. You’ve done your job. But I’m staying here. In my home.” She looked down at the fingers still wrapped around her sleeve. “So what’s it gonna be, Reed? Are you coming up, or what?”

They were together. From the bell tower of the church a block away, The Survivor adjusted his binoculars and watched as Reed climbed out of his car and walked Nikki Gillette and that stupid little mutt up the stairs to her apartment.

The Survivor wondered if the cop was going to spend the night.

If they’d yet become lovers.

He’d seen the sparks fly between them, had known that it was only a matter of time before they would end up in bed together, but it galled him nonetheless.

Nikki Gillette was just another cunt. Like the rest. He felt more than a little bit of envy, even jealousy that Reed was with her. But it would be short-lived. No matter how torrid the affair was now, it would die quickly. He’d see to it. Holding the binoculars with one hand, he reached into his pocket with the other, past the thick packet he intended to deliver, to the jumble of fabric below. Alone in the bell tower, he rubbed the silken panties he’d taken from his drawer, Nikki’s panties. It was a luxury he seldom afforded himself—to remove a treasure from the bureau, but tonight he felt it necessary.

The wisp of silk and lace felt like heaven beneath his rough fingertips and he licked his lips as lust invaded his blood. He itched to screw her, to throw her onto a bed, or, better yet, into a coffin and fuck her over and over again. Her screams of protest would turn into moans of pleasure and then she’d beg him not only to spare her life but to thrust into her again and again. In his mind’s eye he saw her beneath him, sweating, writhing, begging…

With one hand he rubbed her panties and felt his cock grow ramrod-stiff in anticipation. Sweat broke out on his forehead and made his hands slick on the binoculars.

Through the powerful lenses he saw Reed take the keys from her hand and unlock the door, swinging it open carefully, reaching for the light switch.

Unaware that they were being observed. Even through the binoculars it was difficult to see clearly as Nikki’s porch light was dim, the street lamps casting little illumination on the turret, but still, he caught Reed’s intimate gesture. After checking the interior, the cop placed his hand on the small of Nikki’s back, gently propelling her inside, leaning close and no doubt whispering to her that it was safe.

Reed probably even believed it.

But he was wrong.

Dead wrong.

CHAPTER 26

He shouldn’t stay.

No way. No how.

But Reed couldn’t leave Nikki Gillette’s apartment. Not when he had the feeling that she was a target. He’d lost the woman he was watching on the stakeout in San Francisco, had seen her being killed and could do nothing about it, and then, the Grave Robber had murdered Bobbi Jean and the baby.

He wouldn’t let the same fate happen to Nikki, no matter how hard she protested. So he stood in her small living room feeling uncomfortable and out of place as she placed the dog on the floor. Her cat had hopped onto the counter and, back arched, eyed the interloper as Nikki shed her coat and dropped her purse and computer onto the floor near her desk where she eyed the answering machine.

“No messages.” Her voice caught and she suddenly felt so weary she could barely stand. “Simone didn’t call back.” She slammed a fist onto the top of the desk. “Damn it all, Reed. He’s got her,” she whispered, her tiny fist curled so tightly the cords in the back of her hand were visible. “The bastard has her right now.”

“Don’t think about it.”

The look she cast him cut him to the quick. “How can I think of anything else?”

“I don’t know, but try.”

“I have. But it’s impossible.” She stretched her fingers and sighed loudly. “What do you think he did to her? How did he lure her? Even if he pretended to be me, didn’t she know? Where did he get her? In the parking lot? As she came out of the restaurant?”

“Don’t do this,” he warned.

“I can’t stop.” She jabbed her fingers through the wild riot of curls that had fallen over her eyes. “I see her. In that coffin. Waking up. Trying to get out.”

That did it. He crossed the space between them and wrapped his arms around her. “Shh,” he whispered against her ear. “Don’t torture yourself. It’s not helping.”

“But I feel so guilty.”

“Fight it. You need to pull yourself together. It’s the only way to help her. Why don’t you…take a bath…go to bed…try to find some way to relax,” he suggested, feeling the tension in her muscles. “You need to sleep. You’ll think more clearly in the morning…. We both will.”

“You’re staying?”

“Unless you throw me out into the street.”

She snorted. It was almost a laugh. As if she found the image ludicrous.

“And then I’ll camp out in the car.”

“It’s cold out there.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Not that cold. I lived in San Francisco. Remember?”

“Yeah.” She pulled her head back so that she could look him in the eye even though his arms were still holding them close. Too close. His hips touched hers through their clothing, her legs were nestled inside of his. “I don’t think it’ll be necessary for you to bunk in the Caddy.”

“Thanks.”

Studying him as if she were seeing him with new eyes, she added, “And I’ll try to take your advice…to…try to think positively, about saving Simone. I’ll try not to freak out or be a damned basket case.”

“All I can ask.”

She arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, I think you could ask for a lot more.” She was so close he noticed the slight dusting of freckles bridging her nose, watched the play of emotions on her small face as she struggled to pull herself together.

“And that would be a mistake.”

“Undeniably.” But she didn’t pull away. Her lower lip trembled a bit and he felt the unlikely urge to kiss her. Hard. To force her thoughts away from the pain of this night.

To where? Don’t do it, Reed, don’t open a door you can’t close.
“Let’s just…”

“Yes, let’s.

“…keep things in perspective,” he said, though his pulse was quickening with the nearness of her, his blood running hotter, the urge to kiss her, to hold her, to touch her, strong.

“And focus on what we need to be doing,” she added, though he thought he detected a note of reluctance in her voice.

“Yes, focus.” He stared into her eyes and saw the hint of desire in her gaze. Or was it desperation? It would be easy to make love to her, so easy. And he knew that tonight, because of everything she’d been through, because of her need to be comforted, she’d give in to him. Easily. Even eagerly. But in the morning with the light of dawn everything would change. “Focus,” he repeated, damning himself for his lust. Women had always been his downfall. Probably always would be. But he didn’t want to make another mistake. Not with this woman. “Focusing is good.” He kissed her crown and released her.

“I don’t know if it’s good or not.” If she was disappointed, she hid it and forced one side of her mouth into a half smile. “Okay.” With a shrug, she turned and walked the few steps to her kitchen. “So…would you like something to drink? I’ve got beer, I think…” She opened the refrigerator and, leaning over the door, frowned at what he assumed to be meager contents. “Make that I’ve got
one
lite beer and a bottle of semi-cheap wine.”

He was about to protest when she said, “Don’t give me any of that garbage about you being on duty, because we both know you’re not, nor are you officially on this case, nor should you be in my apartment, anyway, as it’s kind of like consorting with the enemy, right? So a glass of California’s not-so-finest shouldn’t be a problem.”