Lights flashed behind Billy’s eyes.
Pain exploded in his skull.
Then, thankfully, there was nothing.
Chapter 2
Pierce Reed’s cell phone rang through the warm Georgia night.
His wife heard it. Even over the buzz of conversation and the music flowing from inside the house, Nikki caught its distinctive tone.
Oh, great.
Here they were, at his best friend’s daughter’s sweet-sixteen party, dancing on the veranda under twinkling fairy lights strung overhead, and his damned phone had the nerve to ring.
“Don’t answer it,” she said, as he reached into his jacket.
“Yeah, right.” His gaze caught hers, and one corner of his mouth lifted.
He had a point there. As an independent crime reporter, when had she ever ignored a call?
“But—”
He held up a finger to quiet her arguments, then wended through the dancers, away from the crowd and around a corner.
She waited a couple of minutes, but when he didn’t return, she cut across the lawn toward the garage side of the house, where Pierce had disappeared. She nearly ran into Naomi, who was walking rapidly toward a kitchen door and away from a tall, lanky man whowas just climbing into the crew cab of a large, black Ram truck. His features were illuminated momentarily, dark hair catching in the light, square jaw rock-hard, thin lips set in a grim line. He sent an angry look toward the house, where Naomi was disappearing through a door near the kitchen. Muttering something unintelligible under his breath, he yanked the cab door shut, and he was shrouded in darkness until he turned on the ignition; the big truck’s engine roared to life, and the driver’s sharp features were visible in the glow from the dash lights.
As Nikki watched, he executed a quick three-point turn, then, with a roar of the big truck’s engine, sped down the long drive.
Odd, Nikki thought, just as she caught a glimpse of Pierce rounding a corner.
She took off after him, cutting around a waiter carrying a tray of drinks, following her husband to a brick patio where a waterfall splashed into the large pool and moonlight danced upon the water’s smooth surface. Stars glimmered overhead, and the soft hoot of an owl came from the woods surrounding the Kittle estate.
As she reached Pierce, she heard his end of what seemed to be a terse conversation. “… Yeah. I’ll be there …” He checked his watch. “Twenty, maybe thirty minutes.”
Nikki’s heart sank.
Since the birth of their daughter, Chloe, nearly three years earlier, she and Pierce hadn’t enjoyed many nights out alone. Between his job as a homicide detective with the police force and hers as a freelance writer, they were both busy. Lara Kittle’s birthday celebration had been the exception.
And yet, she understood.
More than that, she was intrigued, as always, with her husband’s work.
As Pierce cut off the call, she asked, “What’s that all about?”
“Oh, so suddenly you’re interested?” he said, though he wasn’t really teasing. His jaw was set.
“Someone was murdered.”
“Someone is dead,” he corrected.
“But if you’re involved,” she pointed out.
“There’s a possibility of homicide.”
“Possibility?”
“Could be an accident.”
