The Third Grave (Savannah #4) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,80

being married to a cop and all?” She’d lit a fresh cigarette and dropped a pair of reflective sunglasses over the bridge of her nose.

No reason to push it, Nikki thought.

At least not yet.

But she definitely wanted to talk to Owen Duval, now more than ever.

She climbed into her Honda and checked the messages on her phone. One from Reed saying he’d be late and a second from Millie, which said only: Call me!

Nikki did, through the hands-free device in her car. “Hey, it’s Nikki,” she said, driving away from the house, the smell of the sea still lingering.

“Have you heard?” Millie asked in a rush. “They found another body.”

“What? Another body?” Her mind raced but before she could ask a question, Millie went on.

“Just this afternoon. A small one, a kid, up at Black Bear Lake. A fisherman came across it.”

“Is it Rose Duval?” Nikki asked, her mind racing. Was it possible the third Duval girl had been found? She drove past the construction site, this time flagged through without having to stop.

“No one knows yet. I just heard this through my source at the department. I thought Reed might have told you.”

“I told you, he’s tight-lipped,” she said, irritated that he couldn’t confide in her. A dozen questions came to mind.

“Where on Black Bear Lake? Who found it? They were fishing up there? Was the body in the water?”

“Whoa. Slow down. I don’t know much. My source just gave me the quick info and I thought you’d want to know. Metzger’s already on it.”

“That’s a surprise,” she said sarcastically as she turned toward the bridge.

“I know. I think he feels you breathing down his neck.”

He should, Nikki thought, but kept it to herself. “What else?”

“That’s it. Until I hear more.”

“Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Nikki clicked off, her mind swirling with ideas and questions. If the body was that of little Rose, why wasn’t she in the crypt with her sisters? Had she escaped? Was she murdered, or had it been an accident? Why at the lake? How far was that from the Beaumont mansion? Why was she up there?

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.” But she couldn’t tamp down the sense of excitement she felt, a mixture of fear that Rose Duval was truly dead and a feeling that finally the case might be going somewhere.

Pushing the speed limit, driving by rote, she barely noticed the herons and egrets skimming the water. Instead she let her thoughts spin ahead. Someway, somehow, she had to find a way to get more into the story, to get the green light from her editor so that not only would Fink have her back, but she would have the legitimacy to keep investigating for her job, something Reed couldn’t very well argue against. So, Metzger or no Metzger, she had to get Fink’s approval.

She dictated a quick text to Reed again through her hands-free device. She asked him for confirmation even though she knew he’d be pissed that she was working. Well, too bad. This was her job, damn it.

So into her own thoughts she didn’t notice the gray pickup with the darkened windows that was lying back, ever on her tail, keeping at least two cars between them for cover as she drove into the city.

CHAPTER 19

“Fuck!”

Turning onto the street where he rented a studio apartment in an older home, Owen saw the news vans—two of them, both white but emblazoned with competing call signs, their satellites angled toward the hazy sky. One reporter was already on the front porch, speaking through the screen door to someone on the other side. His landlady, no doubt, probably glibly chatting about her quiet tenant with the horrible reputation. Helen Davis, a devout Christian, would talk to the devil himself if it meant a chance to share a little gossip. He’d figured that out only after he’d signed a year-long lease and moved into one of the only places he could afford in the area.

No way was he going to deal with the press.

He did a quick turn into a neighbor’s driveway, surprising a woman walking to her mailbox, then backed up and, throwing the truck into drive again, headed back the way he’d come. At the end of the street, he turned onto the main drag and drove three miles to the parking lot of a convenience store and, with the engine idling, pulled his Atlanta Falcons cap down low and slipped on a pair of sunglasses to cover his eyes. Then he called Austin