He lifted his shoulders in somewhat of an apology.
“Can I do something for you?”
For a second she saw his eyes light up as if he were going to suggest something lewd or crude. Then, that flame quickly died as he thought better of it. Thank God. Kevin was okay, just kind of…odd. “I thought you had some kind of computer problems. Tom said I should figure out what was wrong.”
“Oh. Right. There are a couple of things. Ever since we got the new wireless system with the router, my Internet connection keeps kicking me off. Trina’s doesn’t, so I figure it must be my machine. It’s irritating as hell. Then, to add insult to injury, my keyboard seems to stick every once in a while, and sometimes—it’s not doing it now—there’s a thin line down the middle of my monitor. You know, bisecting it”—she drew an imaginary line down the screen—“a little off center. It’s random, and comes and goes. I’ve double-checked my settings and connections and all that, but it keeps happening. Think you can fix it?”
“Probably. But I need more information.”
As he stood, arms folded over his chest, earphones dangling from his neck, baseball cap on backwards, Nikki elaborated about the ailments of her computer, all the while attempting to keep some space between her body and his. Which was difficult in normal situations. Here, at the desk, it was nearly impossible. Kevin was one of those people who stood a little too close, in her personal space, as if he couldn’t hear or see well, and it bugged Nikki. She was forever backing up when he was around or just allowing a few more inches of air between them. “So…what do you think? Can it be fixed?” she asked when she’d finished ragging on the machine.
“Dunno till I’ve checked it out.”
“Fine. I’ll do some research in the archives,” she said. “If you have any questions, call me on my cell or come get me…You’ve got the cell number?” He nodded and she felt a chill. “Did I already give it to you?” She couldn’t remember that she had.
“Nah. I got it from Celeste. She keeps those kind of things on file.”
Celeste the Incompetent.
“Why did you ask her for it?”
“I keep everyone’s,” Kevin explained. “That way, when I’m working on their computers, and they’re in the field or home, I can get hold of them.” He looked at her intently, as if she were a moron.
“I was just asking,” she said, snagging her purse and cell phone and leaving Kevin to work out the bugs in her system. It made her uncomfortable watching him sit at her desk, adjust his earphones over his head and roll her chair into her work space, but she wanted the computer fixed and Kevin was the only tech-head on board.
“Give him time, he’ll grow on you,” she told herself as she bought a Diet Coke at the machine in the lunchroom, popped the top and made her way down two flights of stairs to the library, where all of the records were stored and a computer that worked far better than hers was available. She was alone in the place and it was quiet as a tomb, one fluorescent light flickering overhead, concrete walls painted a dull gray and looking for all the world like the inside of a prison. No music down here. No clatter of keyboards, ringing phones or buzz of conversation. Just a few filing cabinets and half-empty bookshelves. The place had always given her a case of the wil
lies, and now with a serial killer on the loose, it seemed worse. Probably because it was so damned quiet. So isolated.
She settled into a squeaky chair and read through the archives, then did an Internet search on Reed once more. He was the key. She knew it. He was the cop called up to Dahlonega, he was the man involved with Bobbi Jean, he was the detective who flew by chopper to Blood Mountain. Because of Bobbi Jean Marx? But how did anyone know he had been involved with her? She made notes on a legal pad, including a reminder to ask Cliff why Reed was specifically called up there, then made a quick call to Cliff’s cell where, of course, she left a message, as he didn’t answer. “He’s evading you,” she said out loud and was surprised at the way her voice echoed in the cavernous room. Her insides tightened and she almost laughed at her case of nerves. “Get a grip,” she admonished herself. “It’s not even dark in here.” Just still. Noiseless. Cool, but airless.
Her cell phone beeped and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Caller ID showed it was the Savannah Police Department. Which surprised her. Cliff rarely called her on the department’s line. He was too paranoid that he’d be found out. Not paranoid. Cautious. He could lose his job, Nikki, all because of some misplaced sense of loyalty to Andrew and because he’s interested in you. You’ve always known it, so face up to it. Guilt riddled, she answered, “Nikki Gillette.”
“Pierce Reed.”
She froze. Reed was calling her. Quickly, she scrambled for her pen and paper. “Hello, Detective,” she said calmly, though her heart was racing. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been avoiding calling you back. You’ve left several messages.”
“Yes. I’d love to interview you. About the case.”
“So you’ve said.”
“You actually listened to the voice mails I’ve left?”
“All eight.”
“I wanted to talk to you before I went to press with anything. But I couldn’t wait forever. I’ve got deadlines.”
“So, that’s why I’m calling you now. I’ve changed my mind. I think we should talk.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. “When?”
“Tonight. After work. Say, seven, seven-thirty. Can you make it?”
“Sure.” She tried not to sound too eager, even though this seemed like a gift from heaven. An interview with the elusive detective. No, make that an exclusive interview. “What happened?” she couldn’t help but ask. “Why the change of heart?”
“I’ll explain it all when I see you.”