“Sure. Oh, no, you don’t,” Lily said and shot out of her chair and grabbed Chloe as she was climbing onto the vanity’s tufted stool.
Phee, who had been downstairs rifling through the pantry for a snack, climbed up the stairs and, spying the action through the open door to her bedroom, let out a squeal. “Don’t let her!” she yelled. “Mom, don’t let her get into my stuff! Chloe, don’t you dare!”
Nikki raced down the stairs and out of the house before she could be pulled back into the drama.
And still, she’d gotten to the crime scene later than she’d hoped—so late, in fact, that, as she watched, a white news van emblazoned with the logo of a local station across its side, satellite dish visible, rolled to a stop as close as possible.
So much for exclusivity.
“Let’s get out of here,” Pierce said, eyeing the van as a reporter stepped from the passenger side.
“But—”
“I’ll fill you in later.”
“Promise.”
“As long as you stick to our deal.” His eyes met hers, and she nodded. “I’ll be home in a couple of hours.”
“Me, too,” she said, and when she saw the questions in his gaze, she didn’t elaborate, just climbed into her Subaru and drove into town. She wasn’t going to let this moment pass. Lily had control of the house, and she had some research to take care of.
Let Pierce guess what she was up to
Chapter 26
Granger LaRoux was no hero.
He’d had more than his share of problems with the law.
As Nikki sat at her favorite desk in the darkened newspaper office, the computer monitor serving as her main light source, she went through his rap sheet to discover offenses including poaching and getting into bar brawls. The most significant charge was one filed by a girlfriend; however, it was eventually dropped. From what Nikki could piece together, the girlfriend had been the attacker, with a weapon—a screwdriver—that she’d managed to put through Granger’s left hand.
As far as she could tell, Granger had no connection to Billy Huber or Mavis Greenlee, nor did they with his mother. Granger had some social media accounts, but the victims, oddly, did not.
Nor did Jeanne LaRoux have a criminal record. She’d been a recluse and had practiced some kind of mixture of religions, pagan and Christian, but hadn’t been in trouble with the law or even been in a spat with any of her neighbors. Nikki had done a story on her in the past, and since that time, Jeanne LaRoux hadn’t been in the news.
But someone had known about her.
And targeted her.
And murdered her.
“Who?” she said aloud, drumming her fingers on the desk as she thought. The newsroom was quiet at this time of night—just two techies, who manned the incoming feed from the Internet, making certain that theSentinel’s website and social-media accounts were up to the minute—but everyone else was gone. She glanced at Fink’s office, now dark, then turned her attention back to her screen.
What did a lone hoarder, a Savannah socialite, and an isolated woman who claimed to be a sorceress have in common? Why would someone target them? For a second, she considered the fact that their deaths might be random, but it seemed unlikely. The stones with their numbers were the connection.
But how?
And why would they be polished and etched on two sides with numbers in Arabic and Hebrew? What was the point of that … if there was one. She leaned back in her desk chair, ignoring the headache building at the base of her skull. She knew she was missing something, something vital, but then she didn’t have all the evidence; she was driving somewhat blind. The police had more information, of course, and though she’d gotten more info than some other reporters, she felt hamstrung. And frustrated.
She was getting nowhere fast.
Shutting down her station, she dropped by the website area, where Effie Savoy was sipping from a giant-size coffee drink.
Effie, a sourpuss with ever-changing hair color, didn’t bother to smile as Nikki approached. No surprise there; they’d never gotten along. They tolerated each other. Coworkers? Yes. Friends? Never.
“Anything new on the murders?”
Effie peered up at Nikki over the tops of her new glasses; the frames were pale green, almost the same shade as her hair.
