The car would be all right at Great Bods until I got back. It was locked, and it was under the awning. At worst, Wyatt would have it towed to the city impound lot, which he had better not do because if my car was damaged in any way, I’d definitely sue him.

A red Pontiac with a magnetic sign on the side announcing it belonged to the rental agency pulled to the curb. I grabbed my duffel and was out the door before the guy could get out of the car. I paused only to lock my door, then hurried down the steps to meet him. “Let’s go before someone shows up,” I said, opening the rear passenger door and tossing my duffel inside, then sliding into the front seat.

The man got behind the steering wheel, blinking in confusion. “Who? Is someone after you?”

“Maybe.” If he didn’t know who I was, that was all to the good. Maybe no one much read the newspaper anymore. “An ex-boyfriend is really making a nuisance of himself, you know?”

“He’s violent?” The man threw me an alarmed look.

“No, he just whines a lot. It’s embarrassing.”

Relieved, he put the car in gear and drove to our small regional airport, where all the rental agencies were located. After some discussion about the type of car they wanted to put me in-I nixed the bare-bones economy models because they were too bare bones (one even had roll-up windows, which I didn’t know Detroit still made)-I settled on a sharp black Chevy short-bed pickup. Black isn’t the most sensible color in the south, because of the heat, but it’s undeniably sharp. If I couldn’t have my Mercedes, I thought riding around in a pickup truck would be cool.

I have good memories associated with pickup trucks. Grampie had owned one, and during my junior year in high school, for two whole months I’d dated a senior, Tad Bickerstaff, who drove a pickup. Tad had let me drive his truck, which I thought was the best thing ever. Our romance faded as fast as it had bloomed, though, and Tad and his truck had moved on to another girl.

All the papers signed and the gas tank filled, I tossed my duffel in the seat of the pickup and buckled myself in. Beach, here I come!

I admit, summer isn’t the best time to head to the beach if you don’t have reservations. Even worse, it was Friday, when all the weekenders were doing the same. But since it was only noon, I figured I had a good head start on the weekend crowd, and among them had to be people like me who trusted they’d be able to get a motel room once they reached the shore. People do that only because-duh-it usually works.

Driving from the western part of the state to the eastern shore takes several hours, especially since I had to stop for lunch. I decided I loved driving a pickup, because sitting higher meant I could see so much better, plus this particular truck had plenty of power and all the extras I could want. The ride was smooth, the air-conditioning was top-notch, the sun was shining, and Wyatt Bloodsworth had no idea where I was. Things were looking up.

Around three, my cell phone rang. I looked at the number that showed in the little window; I had dialed it just that morning, so I knew very well who was calling. I let the voice mail answer, and kept on truckin’ down the road.

I was getting very excited about my mini-vacation. A couple of days on the beach would do me a world of good, plus take me away from town while interest in Nicole’s murder was so high. Normally I’m very responsible, because Great Bods is my baby, but just this once I thought circumstances warranted that I take a break. Probably I should have posted a sign on the front door at Great Bods, though, telling my members when we might reopen. Oh, my God, I hadn’t given a thought to my employees! I should have personally called each of them.

Angry at myself, I called Siana. “I can’t believe I did this,” I said as soon as she answered the phone. “I didn’t call everyone and tell them when I expected to reopen Great Bods.”

The great thing about Siana is, growing up with me, she learned to read between the lines and fill in the gaps. She immediately knew I wasn’t talking about the members because there were so many of them that calling each and every one would take, like, until Great Bods actually reopened, so obviously I was talking about my employees.

“Do you have a list of their numbers at your place?” she asked.

“There’s a printed list folded in my address book, in the top left drawer of my desk. If you’ll get it, I’ll call you back when I get settled and can write all the numbers down.”

“Don’t bother with that; I’ll call them. Since I’m right here and the calls are local, that makes more sense than using your cell phone minutes. I’ll also have Lynn update the voice mail message.”

“I owe you. Be thinking about what you’d like to have.” I love that girl; it’s great having a sister like her. I was calling her at work, and she could easily have said she was tied up and she’d get to it as soon as she could, but it might be tomorrow. Not Siana, though; she handled everything thrown at her as if she had all the time in the world. You’ll notice I don’t say that about Jenni, who still thinks she’s privileged. Besides, I have not forgotten that I caught her willingly kissing my husband. I don’t bring it up and for the most part get along with her, but it’s always there in the back of my mind.

“Don’t make open-ended promises like that; I might ask for something more than borrowing your best dress. By the way, someone is looking for you, and he sounds angry. Want to guess his name? Hint: he’s a police lieutenant.”

I was flabbergasted, not that he was looking for me and that he was angry, but that he had called Siana. I’d told him during one of our dates that I had two sisters, but I’m certain I didn’t tell him their names or anything about them. On the other hand, it was silly to be surprised: he was a cop; he knew how to find out things about people.

“Wow. He didn’t give you any grief, did he?”

“No, he was very controlled. He did say something about betting that I was your lawyer. What was that about?”

“I have a list of grievances against him. I told him I was taking the list to my lawyer.”

Siana chuckled. “What would those grievances be?”

“Oh, things like manhandling me, kidnapping me, snotty attitude. He took my list away from me, so I have to write another one. I’ll add to it as time goes along, I’m sure.”

She was outright laughing now. “I bet he loved the ‘snotty attitude’ item. Uh-are you going to need me for real? Are you in any trouble?”

“I don’t think so. He told me not to leave town, but I’m not a suspect, so I don’t think he can do that, can he?”

“If you’re not a suspect, why did he say that?”

“I think he’s decided he’s interested again. Then again, maybe he was just getting back at me because I pretended not to recognize him. I had him going for a while.”

“Then it’s probably both. He’s interested, and he’s getting back at you. Plus he’s making certain you stay where he can get to you.”

“I don’t think it worked,” I said as I cruised down Highway 74 toward Wilmington.