The Third Grave (Savannah #4) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,84

your house.”

“I will.”

“And don’t go stepping on Metzger’s toes.”

“Why would I do that?”

He scratched his jaw. “Because you’re you and can’t leave well enough alone, Gillette. So don’t bullshit me.”

She stood, wanting to leave before he changed his mind. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He slid her a disbelieving look, tossed his baseball into the air one more time, caught it and set it back into the ceramic mitt on his desk. “Yeah, right.”

CHAPTER 20

Nikki drove straight home and took Mikado for a short run through the park, the first since her miscarriage. The afternoon was sliding into evening and it felt good to sweat, to get her blood pumping. As she ran down the wide walkways, around the other pedestrians, skateboarders and dog walkers, she thought about the mystery. What if the body found up at Black Bear Lake was Rose Duval? What if it wasn’t? Reed still hadn’t returned her calls, just texted saying he was working late and making certain she was okay.

So frustrating.

But their normal routine.

She remembered feeling that she was being followed the last time she’d passed by the large fountain, but now, as there were so many people crossing beneath the large live oak trees, she saw no one who seemed to be focused on her, no dark figure lurking behind the trunk of one of the trees.

Don’t forget: Someone broke into your house just a few nights ago.

That thought brought goose pimples to the back of her arms. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a man in black and her heart clutched before she noticed the slash of white at his neck: his clerical collar.

A priest or preacher, for God’s sake!

Nikki, get hold of yourself!

“Come on,” she said to the dog, and took off toward home.

Once in the house, she threw a frozen pizza in the toaster oven and while it baked, filled a glass with ice and Diet Dr Pepper. Sipping the drink, she climbed the stairs to her office and opened her laptop to start researching the Beaumont family. What did she know about them? Tyson, her brother’s age, was the current owner and manager of the property, a real-estate developer like his father, Baxter. Tyson was the only living child of Baxter and Connie-Sue, who lived in an expensive adults-only center on a golf course just out of town. Tyson’s sister, Nell, had died at a young age, drowning in the river near the old house where they had all resided with Beulah, Tyson’s step-grandmother and matriarch of the clan, and Connie-Sue had insisted they move from the estate as it was too painful for her to live so close to the spot her daughter had died.

The timer on the toaster oven dinged. Downstairs, where the kitchen smelled of sizzling pepperoni, oregano and mozzarella, Nikki retrieved two slices of hot pizza and a couple of paper towels, then returned to her attic-office and pored over tons of information about the Beaumont estate. She sorted through deeds of sale, news clippings, articles and pictures, searched the Internet for historical records, joined a group dedicated to the history of the area, read for hours, immersed in all things Beaumont. As she picked at her dinner, she took notes and gave up around eleven.

In a nutshell, the Beaumont estate had once been massive, spreading across the shores of the river, and had been cut up over the years, the most interesting pieces being the Marianne Inn, near Black Bear Lake, where the recent body had been discovered, the abutting acres of Channing Vineyards, which was owned and run by Jacob Channing, and a much smaller parcel near the Marianne Inn purchased by Wynn Cravens and now home to Bronco.

She eyed the records for the Marianne Inn. After the Second World War, over a hundred acres had been developed into the Marianne Inn property, once a flourishing hunting and camping resort in the middle part of the last century. It had been built and run by Baxter Beaumont’s father, Arthur, who had dedicated it to his first wife, Marianne, who had died when Baxter had been less than two. Arthur had married Beulah soon thereafter.

Nikki glanced out the window and saw her own watery reflection. The night was closing in and her neck starting to ache.

She stood and rotated her shoulder while looking down at the notes, pictures and copies of deeds of sale scattered on her desk.

Her gaze landed on a picture of the lodge at the Marianne Inn,