The Morning After

by Lisa Jackson

  If it is unnecessary.

  Finally, she heard Reed’s voice and his footsteps on the stairs. Ludicrous as it was, her silly heart skipped a beat. She was on her feet in an instant but his dark expression when he walked up the steps stopped her cold. Her heart nosedived. “Did you find her?”

  “No.”

  Morrisette was with him. “No trace. Not of her. Nor Chevalier.”

  “He wasn’t home?”

  “No. Nor did he show up at the video store where he works. We checked. And that’s not to be printed, you got it?” Morrisette said.

  Reed asked, “Did you find out anything?”

  “No. No one’s seen her since the restaurant.”

  “Hell.”

  Morrisette’s phone chirped and she pulled it out of her bag as Reed and Nikki walked into his office.

  “He’s got her, doesn’t he?” she asked as she stood at the window and stared into the dark, relentless night. Mikado had roused and was whining at her feet.

  “I don’t know. Nothing’s certain.”

  “But you think so.”

  He started to argue with her, but stopped himself. The corners of his mouth drew tight. “Yeah. You’re right. That is what I think.”

  “I knew it.”

  “I could be wrong.”

  “Yeah, right.” She leaned over and picked up Simone’s dog. “And the Pope could suddenly get married.” She rubbed the crick from the back of her neck. “We have to find some way to get to her. Before it’s too late.” But she knew it probably already was, that there were probably few grains of sand left to run through Simone’s hourglass.

  Clicking off her cell phone, Morrisette returned. “They’re handling everything here. I checked. We’ve got a BOLF out and if anything pops, they’ll call me or Siebert.”

  “Where is he?” Nikki scratched Mikado behind his ears.

  “On his way. He spent the day up in Dahlonega—said he left me a message I never got. Talked to the kid who saw the killer, but the kid couldn’t finger Chevalier. Claimed he wouldn’t know the guy if he ran into him.” She shrugged a slim shoulder. “Who knows if the kid is lying? Siebert thinks he’s too afraid of what might happen to him. And his old man wasn’t very cooperative—thinks his boy might have a story that some rag will pay money for…Gee, maybe you can convince the Sentinel to ante up.”

  “We don’t pay for news,” Nikki snapped.

  Morrisette snorted as she opened her purse and rooted around in it. “No, you just rake up the muck, get people agitated and get in the way.” Nikki opened her mouth to protest, but Morrisette cut her off. “And don’t give me any crap about freedom of the press and letting the people know, because it’s all bullshit.”

  “I think she gets it,” Reed cut in.

  “She’d better.” Morrisette found a pack of cigarettes and shook the last one out. “Be smart, okay?” she suggested to Reed as she crumpled the empty pack and tossed it into the trash.

  “I try.” His tone was cold as ice and his ex-partner seemed to get the message.

  “Okay—maybe I came on a little strong, but I’m beat and I don’t need anyone telling me how to do my job. I’m gonna go home to my kids. Who are, presumably, sleeping, and don’t even know I’m not there…This is no damned job for a mother, let me tell you.” She placed the unlit cigarette between lips showing only a hint of lipstick that had been applied hours earlier.

  “But you can’t just stop looking for him tonight,” Nikki protested, worried sick about Simone. The dog whimpered and she set him on the ground. “Not now…” Turning pleading eyes on Reed, she said, “Every second counts. Right now Simone could be in a coffin, trying to get out, hearing shovelfuls of dirt being rained upon her. Dear God, can you imagine what she might be going through? We have to find her. We can’t give up.”

  “No one’s giving up!” Morrisette turned swiftly and stared Nikki down. Her already hot temper flared. “If you haven’t noticed, Ms. Gillette, we’ve been working our asses off on this one, and all you’ve been doing is getting in the way. If you can come up with one sound reason why I shouldn’t go home, give me an idea of how to handle this any better than I have, then, shoot.” She waited, cigarette twitching.

  “Slow down, Sylvie,” Reed warned. “We’ve all put in a long night.”

  “Just keep her in line, okay?”

  Nikki said slowly, “No one keeps me in line.”

  “That’s the problem. You’re the loose cannon, Gillette, and frankly, I don’t have time for it.” Morrisette glared at Reed. “I’m surprised you do.” Retrieving a Bic lighter from her pocket, Morrisette stormed out, her boots ringing with each furious step, her anger radiating in nearly visible waves.

  The entire world seemed to crash down on Nikki. She stood in Reed’s office feeling bereft, Simone’s little dog pacing the office. “This is my fault,” she said, wounded that anyone, even the prickly woman detective, would think she placed her ambitions or a story before her friend’s life. “I didn’t come here for a story,” she said, and the weight of the night settled deep in her soul. “I just want to find Simone.” Tears filled her eyes. “I just want to do everything possible so that she’s safe.”

  “I know.” He was impossibly kind, the look in his eyes compassionate, and she knew he felt her pain. Hadn’t he lost those he’d held dear, a woman he’d once loved, a child he’d never gotten the chance to meet, to this twisted maniac?

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “For your loss and—”

  “Shh.” He folded her into his arms and rested his chin on her head. He felt so strong. So male. So dependable that she sagged against him and fought the tears that seemed determined to flow. Crying wouldn’t help Simone. Nor would moping and worrying. She had to take action. Find the bastard who did this and stop him. Fast.

  She felt Reed stiffen and the supporting arms around her dropped as someone cleared his throat. Instinctively she took a step backward and turned to find Cliff Siebert in the doorway.

  “Ms. Gillette,” he said, his voice flat. “You’re the last person I expected to find here.”

  “Just on my way home,” she replied. “I’m here because my friend is missing.”

  “I heard.” His hard features softened a bit. “I’m sorry.”

  “I just hope that you find her. And soon. Come, Mikado!”

  Cliff nodded curtly. “We’ll do our best.”

  “Thanks,” she said, nearly calling him by his first name and giving away the fact that she was close to Cliff Siebert. Reed didn’t know they were friends, had no idea that Siebert was her source within the department, and she wanted to keep it that way. She scooped up the little mutt.

  “I’ll give you a lift,” Reed offered and she managed a weak smile. He motioned to Mikado. “The dog can come, too.”

  “That would be great.” She felt Cliff’s gaze upon her as she and Reed walked out of the station, but she was too distraught and tired to worry about what he thought. Not that it was any of his business. Outside, the night seemed to close in on her, the dampness reached her bones, the darkness touched her soul. No one was on the street and the deserted city seemed to take on a sinister hue. Blue light from the street lamps danced eerily upon the wet pavement.

  She climbed into the El Dorado and, with Mikado on her lap, leaned heavily against the passenger door. Without a word, Reed got behind the steering wheel and wheeled out of the parking lot, nosing the Caddy in the direction of her apartment. She felt so tired, her muscles aching, but her mind was in overdrive as she petted the dog and tried vainly to keep guilt at bay. Where was Simone? Did that horrid animal have her? Please keep her safe. Keep her alive. Don’t let her die a horrible, mind-numbing death.

  Outside, the city was quiet, the streets nearly deserted, only few interior lights in the grand old homes shining in the darkness. Inside the El Dorado, Reed held his silence and all Nikki heard was the rumble of the engine, whine of spinning tires and crackle of the police band with its short, staccato burs
ts of conversation. Simone’s little dog, front feet on the window ledge, nose pressed to the fogging glass, didn’t bark or whimper. Nikki tried not to think about Simone, attempted vainly not to envision the horrors of what she might be going through.

  Finally, Nikki could stand the thick silence between them no more. “God, I wonder where she is?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up thinking about it,” Reed said as he maneuvered through the back alleys and narrow streets. A startled cat jumped out of the shadows and scurried through a wrought-iron fence. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I should have met her.”

  “You couldn’t. Didn’t know you were supposed to. Someone stole your phone, remember?”

  “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.