Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [125]
“Sanders is right,” a female voice said. “I thought we had agreed that the rumors being propagated in Europe about York being alive were entirely false. We know York is dead. We killed him. He has not come back from the dead.”
An odd mixture of emotions swirled through Nic’s mind. Griff was having a private meeting with Sanders and Yvette, and once again, he had not included her. He had shut her out and was continuing to keep secrets from her.
Her next thought was a totally unselfish one. How terrifying it must be for Yvette to even consider the possibility that her sadistic husband might still be alive.
“York is dead,” Griff said. “On that, we all agree.”
“And the deaths of the two Powell agents could be a coincidence,” Yvette suggested.
“The murders were no mere coincidence,” Griff told them.
“What do you know that we don’t?” Sanders asked.
Nic swung open the door and entered the kitchen. “Yes, Griff, exactly what do you know that the rest of us don’t know?”
Yvette and Sanders turned instantly and stared at Nic, each of them looking as if they wanted to explain their presence and yet waiting for Griff to respond.
Griff’s body stiffened as if preparing for battle, bracing himself for the onslaught of enemy fire. He turned slowly to face her. “Good morning.”
“Apparently not so good,” Nic said.
“Sanders woke me half an hour ago with a report from Mitch Trahern,” Griff said.
Nic slid her gaze over her husband, from his tousled blond hair, across his broad shoulders, and down to his size fourteen leather house slippers. He wore a silk robe over his silk pajama bottoms. When they had gone to bed last night, he had been naked.
“I must have been sleeping soundly,” Nic said. “I didn’t hear Sanders knock.”
“I was already downstairs in my study.”
“Then you were having trouble sleeping?” Not giving Griff a chance to respond, she glanced at Yvette. “How long have you been here?”
“Only a few minutes,” Yvette told her. “Sanders phoned and asked me to come to the house immediately.”
“I see.” She looked directly at Griff. “Another top secret meeting of the Amara Triad, huh?”
“Not top secret,” Griff said. “I saw no reason to wake you since neither of us got much sleep last night. I thought you needed your rest. I intended to fill you in later.”
“Fill me in now.”
Griff nodded. “You know that the Knoxville PD did not reveal the details about Kristi Arians’s murder, telling the press only that her throat had been slit and that was the cause of death. But we know that whoever killed her, mutilated her by cutting numerous triangular-shaped pieces out of her arms and legs.”
“Go on.” But Nic knew before he spoke exactly what he was going to tell them.
“Whoever killed Shelley Gilbert slit her throat and cut triangular pieces of flesh from her arms and legs,” Griff said.
“Oh, my God.” Nic felt sick to her stomach.
Smelling freshly brewed coffee, Lorie followed the scent straight to her kitchen. Bracing herself for whatever lay beyond the closed door—be that Mike still here or Jack having returned or another deputy on guard duty—she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Before leaving the bathroom, she had washed her face and brushed her hair, but she hadn’t bothered with a robe since her lightweight sweats and T-shirt were presentable.
Mike stood at the stove busily scrambling eggs in a bright green nonstick skillet that she had bought at a discount store even though it didn’t match anything in her red, white, and black kitchen. She had fallen in love with that stupid skillet the moment she saw it.
He glanced at her. “Morning.”
“You’re still here.”
“Yep.” He nodded to the table. “I heard you stirring about so I went ahead and set the table. I hope I used the right dishes.”
She glanced at the white Corning Ware plates she had bought at Wal-Mart for everyday use. “They’re fine.”
“There’s coffee.” He hitched his thumb in the direction of the coffeemaker.
After preparing herself a large mug of coffee, she pulled out a chair and sat down. Cupping the mug in both hands, she brought it to her lips and sampled