The Third Grave (Savannah #4) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,34
him a piece of her mind. Yeah, she’d made a mistake. A horrible, fatal mistake. And she felt guilty about it. Seriously guilty. It was eating her up inside. But he—her damned husband—didn’t have to pour salt in her already burning, open wound.
And if he thought he could order her to . . . what? Leave it alone?
Fat chance!
Now, more than ever, she was committed to finding out what had happened out there at the Beaumont property. Who were in the graves? Why was there one left empty? How long had the bodies been up there? Again, her mind reeled with dozens of questions.
Reed really thought she would just let it go?
Maybe he didn’t know his wife that well after all.
If he thought he could get away with brooding all night, sulking in the kitchen, drinking himself into oblivion, then he had another think—and probably drink—coming! She was a reporter and had been since they’d met. So he knew how she felt about her job, how writing about crime, even solving cases was a part of her, as it was a part of him.
She spun quickly, determined to have it out with him. As she did, her foot caught in the sagging hem of her robe, the loose material tangling around her ankle.
She slipped on the step.
She scrabbled for the rail, gravity pulling her down swiftly.
Her fingers slid down a baluster.
Her feet slipped to the next step.
Thud!
She landed on her back. Pain ricocheted down her spine. Agony ripped through her shoulder as she tumbled. She let out a yell. “Noooo!” The dog barked and scrambled out of her way. “Reed!” She fell to the base of the step.
“Nikki!” Reed’s voice was sharp. Anxious. Echoing over the sound of a stool scraping backward and running footsteps. “Nikki!”
She felt something break within her. Something tender and fragile.
Oh. Dear. God.
Sprawled on the last two steps, rattled to her core, she spied her husband careening around the corner to the kitchen. He was at her side in an instant, on his knees and hovering over her. “Oh, God, Nikki, are you okay?” His face was a mask of worry, his anxious eyes scanning her features.
Was she? She blinked. Moved slightly. Testing her arms and legs. “Yeah, I think so,” she said, though she wasn’t certain.
“Your shoulder?”
“It’s . . . it hurts,” she admitted as her head cleared, and she knew in that instant her shoulder wasn’t the problem. Nor was her back, nor her arms or legs. No . . . oh, please . . . no.
“Thank God.”
She heard his voice as if from a distance.
A deep, clawing sadness took hold of her soul as she recognized the feeling of wetness between her legs. She had trouble finding her voice. “I think you’d better call Dr. Kasey,” she said, forcing the horrid words past her lips.
“Dr. Ka . . . Oh, no,” he whispered, letting his gaze slide down her body. “You mean . . .”
She followed his gaze but knew what she’d find. A crimson stain was blooming on her nightgown, visible where her dressing gown had parted. “Oh, Jesus, Nikki.”
“Call her,” she said again, more forcefully, even though she was certain it was too late.
There was no baby.
Not anymore.
CHAPTER 9
Two days later, Reed was at the station. He tossed back the cold dregs of his coffee and threw the disposable cup into the trash near his desk. The door to his office was slightly ajar, and he heard the buzz and hum of activity from the outer hallway. Someone was laughing. He thought it sounded like Van Houten’s deep rumble as it faded away.
It was nearly five, the shift would be changing soon, and voices and ringing phones carried over the wheeze of the air-conditioning unit that was struggling against the thick Georgia heat.
Though the flood waters from the storm had receded and most of the power had been restored, the city of Savannah was still in the midst of a major cleanup. Emergency crews for the city and electric or cable companies continued to work around the clock. The streets had been cleared of debris for the most part, but now the roadways were filled with vans from the media, or trucks for the road crews or construction companies and insurance adjustors assessing the damage.
Getting through town was still a challenge.
But then, what wasn’t?
Reed considered another cup of coffee, then discarded the idea as it was late afternoon, bright sunlight visible through the grimy window.