“Maybe. I dunno.” Phee was scrolling through her phone. “Yeah. I think.”
“Has it been here before?”
“Uh, I don’t …” Her eyebrows knitted as she thought. “I think so, but … maybe.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“What?” She shook her head. “No. Shana and I don’t really hang out. We know each other, but we’re not really friends.”
“Not friends?” Nikki asked, as she drove around several corners and past two forks in the road. No hint of either vehicle. Even though she’d known the chances were slim that she would discover them, she’d held out more than a little hope. “Thought you might be. Horse riders and all.”
“No … I dunno. She’s … I don’t know.” She met Nikki’s gaze in the rearview. “Does it matter?”
“No. Of course not.” Nikki let the subject drop and gave up the chase. No sense going any farther. She realized they weren’t far from the Kittles’ house, where only a few weeks earlier she and Pierce had been at Lara’s sweet-sixteen party, on the day Billy Huber’s body had been found. She drove past the long driveway to the home, but decided against it. What would she say? She had no excuse, and she had both girls in the car with her.
Another time, she told herself, turning at the end of the Kittles’ lane.
The large house wasn’t visible from the road; it was set back nearly a quarter of a mile, with thickets of pine and oak keeping the property of over fifteen hundred acres private. According to Pierce, Jamison’s tract was only part of the original parcel owned by the Kittle family for generations. Pierce had mentioned that Harrison Kittle,Jamison’s father, had split the acreage between his five sons. Though Jamison had ended up with the house and the lion’s share of land, the estate had to have been immense.
“Can we get ice cream?” Phee asked from the back seat, breaking into Nikki’s thoughts. “I’m starving.”
“Sure. As long as you don’t tell your Mom and eat whatever we’re having for dinner.”
“Okay.” Phee agreed quickly.
Nikki reminded herself that whatever Naomi was doing with the mystery man in the black truck was her own business. The guy could be her brother, or someone who worked for Jamison, or a friend of his. It probably wasn’t a big deal.
Still, her curiosity was on high alert. She only knew the Kittles through Pierce, as he and Jamison went way back. From their freshman year in college, she thought, as she drove through low-lying farmland back to the city and parked just off of Reynolds Square. She then walked to Leopold’s Ice Cream and stood in line with locals and tourists, all eager to try the unique and ever-delicious flavors.
Once inside, Phee ordered a cone of Chocolate Chewies and Cream, and Chloe chose her usual scoop of plain old chocolate. Even Nikki couldn’t resist and opted for a Caffè Leopold, which was a shot of espresso over an ice cream scoop, in this case, Savannah Socialite, which was a blend of chocolates with pecans and bourbon-infused caramel. Not only was it divine, but it also reminded her of Mavis Greenlee, who had indeed been a Savannah socialite.
And was now dead.
The victim of a vicious homicide.
No. Make that the second victim.
Billy Huber was the first.
She only hoped that there were no more.
Chapter 24
“This is nuts!” Chalice Brown told herself as she steered her sister’s older Chevrolet down the ruts of this narrow lane through the swampland. The Impala jolted and rocked over the sparse gravel and potholes, then shimmied over an exposed root. Worse yet, vines and limbs scraped the exterior, and the headlights caught in the eyes of a raccoon before it lumbered out of the way. Why had she listened to her sister, Dorothea? When had Dotty shown even the semblance of sanity?
And yet she’d been desperate, and here, far from her home in Detroit and while visiting Dotty, she’d caved on her sister’s harebrained scheme, taking over her appointment with some kook who claimed to predict the future out here in the middle of no-damned-where.
Oh, sure.
And there in the car’s headlights was the wooden gate with the no trespassing sign. Just as Dotty had told her. She parked and wished she’d worn boots, as the ground was soggy here, and it would only get worse, as the fortune-teller or seer or high priestess or whatever she was only did her readings in the middle of the effing swamp.
Why oh why had she listened to Dotty?
Well, the answer was simple, really. Shehadto know. Had to! Her life depended on it. At thirty-eight, she wasn’t getting any younger,and she wanted marriage and a child. Hopefully before she crossed the Rubicon of Four-O, and time was getting short. But how had she let Dotty talk her into this fiasco? And at dusk? Wasn’t that the time when all those nasty nocturnal creatures like bats and possums and, God forbid, snakes came out?
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Chalice chastised herself as she felt in the pockets of her jacket for her phone, while trudging along an overgrown path. The flashlight app would come in handy as it got darker. And it would, she knew, feeling a little cold inside.
“This is a goddamned fool’s mission,” she said aloud as she swept her gaze from side to side. There were alligators in this part of the South and all kinds of snakes, like rattlers and cottonmouths and corals and, oh, good Lord, she didn’t know what else. But nothing good, she knew that much.