The Third Grave (Savannah #4) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,126
the kitchen. He punched the code to the keyless entry to get into the house as his house key was on his key chain, which he hoped Nikki had left inside.
The dog and cat greeted him, Mikado’s tail wagging wildly even as he pranced to be let outside. “Been a long time?” Reed asked, dropping his keys onto the table before bending down to scratch the dog behind his ears, then picking up Jennings. “How about you?” he asked the cat, who immediately struggled to get down. “Okay, okay. Yeah, I love you, too.” He let both the animals into the backyard, watching as Mikado streaked to a magnolia tree, while Jennings slunk through the chairs surrounding the small table where he and Nikki sometimes drank coffee in the mornings or shared a bottle of wine with friends on an evening like this.
So where was she?
As he closed the glass door, he read his wife’s text again, texted her back that he was home, then did the same with Delacroix. His partner, too, wasn’t responding, and Reed only hoped it was because she’d gotten some new information from Owen Duval’s attorney.
Upstairs, he shed himself of jacket, slacks and dress shirt, opting for jeans and a faded T from a rock concert he’d attended twenty years earlier.
Still no response.
Which wasn’t all that unusual.
Yet.
Once downstairs in the kitchen again, he opened the French doors. Mikado bounded inside, his tail still whipping back and forth at warp speed while Reed found the animals’ bowls and food. Although he was practically tripping over Mikado, the cat was taking his sweet time about returning. “Come on, Jennings,” Reed yelled through the open door. “Dinnertime.” He opened a can of wet food, mixing it with dry and feeding a ravenous Mikado just as the tabby deigned to stroll inside and sniff before daintily eating.
Reed turned on the TV and checked his phone, rereading Nikki’s last communication once more:
Am out doing errands and research. Mikado and Jennings need to be fed. Back home soon. Love you!
And then the heart emoji. That was odd. She wasn’t one for gushy notes or hearts and flowers and oftentimes just responded with a checkmark or a thumbs-up emoji.
Don’t overthink it. She sent you a text. Heart emoji or no, it’s not a big deal.
But he did. He couldn’t rein in his thoughts now that they were careening down that dangerous path. He knew his wife too well; had been in too many situations where she and her damned curiosity, her need to write the next crime article in the Sentinel had gotten her into trouble. Serious, life-threatening trouble.
“Damn it, Nik,” he said as if she were in the room with him. In an instant he realized she wasn’t doing errands and research. Not the kind she wanted him to think about. He looked through the windows to the night beyond, where the ambient light of the city permeated the backyard and cast a sheen up into a night where a full moon was rising.
Where the hell could she be?
Had she been going to let him know earlier when she’d said she wanted to tell him something? He tried her number again, but, of course, she didn’t pick up.
And then he noticed the voice mail. One that had somehow slipped through, maybe while he was texting. From a number he associated with the department. He hit speaker, set the phone on the counter and listened:
“Hey, this is Rivera in Evidence,” the woman said. He knew her: petite, in her fifties with laugh lines near her dark eyes and a quick smile. “I’m lockin’ up the case files on Duval and I can’t get hold of Detective Delacroix. Been tryin’ for a couple of hours. Since you all are her partner, would you pass it along that we need that locket back? I’d like to seal this up with all of the evidence intact, if ya know what I mean. Sheesh. I don’t have to tell you this is highly irregular. Tell her to get in touch.” With that she hung up.
Reed stared at the phone.
Delacroix had Holly Duval’s locket?
That was news to him. Earlier in the investigation, he remembered that she’d gone down to see about the evidence in the Duval case, specifically about the locket. Right? And when she’d come back? He remembered her saying that the locket had been empty. Part of the conversation came back to him because she’d made a bit of a joke: