Sugar and Spite Read Online Free Page B

face and tone. “I think it might be a problem with the connector cord or…”
    “Or a simple case of premature myopia or astigmatism, combined with a narcissistic personality disorder?”
    “What?”
    “Nothing.” Savannah sat in her favorite floral-chintz chair. The piece of furniture was a tad faded, a bit frayed around the edges, more than a little overstuffed, curvaceous, and comfy. Savannah related, reveling in their similarities.
    “Anything new?” Savannah asked. She peered at the computer screen, but as usual, she didn’t understand what she was looking at. It was all a bunch of gobbledygook to her. That was why she desperately needed someone like Tammy Hart. A sweet, hardworking airhead who happened to also be a computer whiz kid. A strange combination, but in Tammy, it worked.
    And Tammy worked. Hard. And cheap.
    At first, Savannah had assumed it was because she had read too many Nancy Drew books as a girl and had some misguided notion that if she hung out with Savannah long enough, she’d become a real, live detective. But now Savannah knew Tammy was there out of love and loyalty. And if she helped nail a bad guy once in a while or find somebody’s runaway teen, all the better.
    “I was scanning some of the message boards on-line today,” Tammy said, clicking away on the keyboard and moving the little white arrow all over the screen with a gadget she called a “mouse”.
    Savannah nodded, pretending to have some vague notion as to what she was talking about. “I see.”
    Tammy shot her a doubtful, sideways grin. “You do?”
    “Nope, but go on. I’ll probably be able to jump in somewhere along the way.”
    “And I saw that someone had posted a message about you.”
    “Oh, yeah? On the Internet?”
    “Yep. Somebody’s looking for you.” Someone hunting for
her
. That didn’t sit well with Savannah. She was far more comfortable with doing the hunting.
    “Who was it?”
    “Here, let me sign on again, and I’ll find it for you.”
    Savannah stood and walked over to stand behind Tammy. She rested her hands on the young woman’s shoulders as Tammy worked her magic with the keyboard and mouse. Rude sounds, a series of irritating beeps and hisses, spewed from the computer’s speakers as it communicated with the world. Seconds later, Savannah saw a message displayed across the screen.
     
    I am searching for a woman by the name of Savannah Reid, please contact me at the following address. She is Caucasian, in her early forties, approximately 5’8”, 135 lbs., and has dark brown hair and blue eyes.
    She is from the Atlanta, Georgia, area and was last believed to be on the West Coast, possibly Southern California. If anyone knows the whereabouts of this person would they please contact me at the following e-mail address…
     
    “Do you recognize the address?” Tammy asked.
    Savannah shook her head. “No. Does it say who posted it?”
    “Not really. But there’s a city mentioned… right down here.” She scrolled to the bottom of the page. “There it is. Macon. That’s a town in Georgia, right? I wonder why they would give their town but not their name.”
    Savannah felt her stomach flip into a tight roll like an overwound window blind as she stared at the word. Finally, she found her voice. “Macon is a town, all right. But in this case, it’s not a location. It’s a name.”
    “A name? Don’t tell me you have another sibling named after a Georgia town! I thought I knew all nine of you.”
    “He’s not my brother,” she said.
    Tammy looked up at her expectantly, but she didn’t fill in the blank. That window blind had rolled all the way up her throat.
    “Well, do you want me to respond? If it’s an old boyfriend, maybe he wants to wish you a happy Valentine’s Day and—”
    “No.”
    The answer was so quick and abrupt that Tammy raised I one eyebrow. “Ooo-kaay. Whatever you say.”
    Savannah turned to walk out of the room. Tammy jumped up from the chair and followed: