“Then I suggest—”
“I’ve got this,” Pierce said, from inside the doorway.
Freeman moved aside, but before Nikki could step into the building, Pierce, his jacket slung over one shoulder, strode out, took her arm, and started walking toward the parking lot. “It’s a madhouse in there. I need a break. Missed lunch.” He unlocked his Jeep.
“And breakfast,” she reminded him.
“I told you not to follow after Quinlan, but you did.”
Nikki had left a brief message to that effect. “You didn’t answer,” she accused. “So I left messages.”
“What did Quinlan say?”
“Nothing, really. Apparently, he and Naomi meet there sometimes when her daughter’s taking a riding lesson. He seemed genuinely surprised she was missing.”
They both climbed inside his car, the passenger seat hot, the interior stifling. “No word on Naomi?” she asked, rolling down the window as he drove out of the lot, merging into the thickening traffic of Habersham Street.
“None yet. She was supposed to have a weekend alone with Jamison, what they’re calling a staycation, and she dropped off the girls at her sister’s house in Charleston and never showed up back here. That’s about all we know so far. So Quinlan was waiting for her. Could have been covering up.” He slowed for a stoplight as a group of teenagers dashed across the street, laughing and talking.
“He wasn’t really interested in talking to me.”
“No surprise there.”
“Yeah, I get it a lot, and by the way, why was I the last to know about what happened? I get home, and Naomi’s picture is all over the TV.”
He scowled. “The department leaks like a damned sieve sometimes.”
She thought about Jill and held her tongue. “And now they’re calling the serial killer the Savannah Slasher? How did that happen?”
“Don’t know. Again, a leak. No one’s supposed to know about the knife wounds, but,” he admitted, “it was going to come out anyway from the autopsy reports.” He slid a glance her way. “You’re just mad because you didn’t come up with the name.”
“Oh, give me a break.” But there was more than a little truth to the comment. “On the news, they speculated that Naomi being missing might be linked to the serial killer.”
His jaw hardened, and his fingers tightened over the wheel. “She’s not dead, hasn’t been killed. She’s just missing. That kind of irresponsible reporting is what gives the media a bad name.”
She couldn’t deny it. Both of them were feeling testy and anxious.
“What do you want to eat?” he asked.
“Whatever. I had half a toasted cheese and tomato for lunch. Hours ago.” She glanced at her watch. “How about the Stag and Boar?”
“Archer Greenlee’s alibi.” He slid a glance her way.
“I’d like to have a look at the group that meets there,” she said. “Kind of an eclectic group that Kyle told me about.”
“When did you talk to Kyle?” Pierce nosed the Jeep into a parking spot on the street three blocks from the pub and close to Riverview Towers.
“Earlier today. I told you I saw him the day I caught Blanche Crawfordbeing moved by her son into Riverview Towers, remember? Then today he came by unannounced and asked us to go to Mavis Greenlee’s funeral as a family. Lily went ballistic. Refuses to go, even for Mom’s sake, as she thinks she’d be seen as a hypocrite.”
“And your mom won’t?”
“Let’s not start with all that,” Nikki suggested.
“I assume you’re going to attend?” He cut the engine.
“A service at All Christian? To watch Reverend Westin Stark wax on about the virtues of one of Savannah’s finest?” she mocked. “You bet I’m going. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
He cut the engine.
