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“You got it.”
Nikki headed toward the back of the vast room through a maze of mostly empty cubicles, Norm Metzger’s included. Even she had a desk here, though it was seldom used and too close to the digital side of the paper, where televisions and monitors glowed, several reporters and techs sat on stools, each wearing earphones and focused on computer monitors.
Fink was at his desk in his glassed-in office.
In his usual khakis and a polo shirt, he sat, nose-deep into a computer on his neat desk, the only objects on it his phone, a signed baseball in a porcelain mitt and a coffee cup proudly displaying the Starbucks logo. Three flat-screen TVs were bolted to the wall behind him, a rowing machine peeking out from beneath an oversize credenza. Today, as ever, the TVs were muted and tuned to different news stations, chyrons for the latest headlines running along the lower portion of the screens.
She tapped on the partially open door.
“Yeah?” he said, still staring at the screen.
“Got a minute?”
“What?” He looked up, his tanned brow beetling beneath silvering hair that was thinning as he recognized her. “Hey.” Rolling his chair backward, he said, “Aren’t you supposed to be staying at home, ‘taking it easy’ or something?”
“Or something,” she agreed. “But it’s been over a week and I’ve been to see the doctor today. I’m good to go.”
“A hundred percent?” he asked, obviously doubtful.
“Pretty much.” That was stretching the truth a bit, but she plowed on. “I got the green light to get back to it and I have another idea I thought I’d run by you before I dive in.”
Now the truth was paper thin. She’d already started work on the story, even mentioned it to Reed this morning, just to cover her bases. While she’d sipped coffee and mentioned her idea, Reed, seated at the island with the newspaper spread in front of him, had glanced up. “You’re doing what?”
“A story on the history of the Beaumont estate.”
“The history?” he repeated, and finished off a final bite of his scone.
“Um-hmm.” She’d buried her nose in her coffee cup but held his gaze above the brim.
He’d lifted one skeptical eyebrow. But he hadn’t challenged her, just said, “Be careful,” then placed his plate on the floor, allowing Mikado to lick up any remaining crumbs before leaving.
Now, Fink waved her into a side chair and listened as she pitched the idea. His eyes narrowed and he tented his fingers under his chin as she explained about the human interest side of the story, about not only the buildings but the family and history that was a part of the local culture. “I think people whose families have been here for generations would love the culture and even nostalgia of the series, and newcomers would like a little deeper knowledge of the area,” she said as Fink listened.
He was nodding to himself, but he said, “So why do I think this is your way of working around me and digging into the crime?”
“Because I would be. I mean the recent crime involving the Duval girls, of course, would be a part of the story, but there’s more to it than that. Another girl died there years ago. Nell Beaumont.”
“The ghost girl?” he asked, unconvinced, but picking up the baseball and tossing it as he considered.
“Right. And there may have been more over the course of the estate’s history. At one time before it was broken into pieces, it was one of the largest parcels in the Savannah area. Right now, everyone in town, well, in the whole state for that matter is interested in the Beaumont estate and family and history. I know it’s because of the bodies being found there, of course, but with that interest comes a curiosity about the place where it happened. Who knows what other secrets are hidden out there?”
He caught the ball and stared at her. “Okay.” He was nodding. “But be careful, okay? I heard about that break-in at 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.
