Heart of the Night (37 page)

“Uh-huh. I got the impression that it was more than just a hello on the street.”

“It was,” he said in a way that said far more.

Pressing her fingers to her lips, Savannah covered a smile. “You don't look decimated. I take it you came out the winner?”

“I'm not sure either of us won, or lost. In some respects, we're pretty evenly matched.”

Savannah tapped her fingers against her lips and said nothing.

Sam faced her head-on. “Okay. What are you thinking?”

One of the nice things about her relationship with Sam was its honesty. Dropping her hands to her lap, she said, “I'm thinking that I love my sister and that you'd be good for her, but that she'll be a handful if you decide to take her on.”

“I already have.”

His firm response took her by surprise. “Oh. Ah, well then, I guess I should give you a hug and wish you good luck?”

Sam thought of her doing that, thought of telling Susan about it, and found himself right at his reason for seeking out Savannah now. “I want to ask you something,” he said. “She's really hung up on you. Do you know that?”

“Hung up?” Savannah didn't like the sound of that. It sounded pathological. “I wouldn't call it hung up.”

“Well, she is. She compares herself to you all the time. She gets uptight whenever I mention your name. At the beginning, she was convinced we were having an affair.”

“Well, we're not.”

“I know that and you know that, but it's taken Susan a while to believe it.”

“Does she now?”

“I think so. She still gets nervous when I talk about you. I didn't dare tell her I'd be seeing you today, and God forbid she should walk in that door right now, there'd be all hell to pay.”

Savannah grinned. “You're sounding almost henpecked.”

“It's not funny, Savannah. She is unbelievably jealous of you. Has it always been that way, or do I bring out the worst in her?”

Savannah's grin faded. “It's not you. The situation may be complicated since we see each other at work. But there's always been a sibling rivalry between Susan and me.”

“You're twins.” He put two fingers together. “You should be this close.”

“We're sisters.” She made a wide vee with her fingers. “Sometimes we're this close.” Then she relented. “We're close. I shouldn't say we're not. But we do compete with each other.”

“I don't see you doing it.”

Savannah thought of the feelings of inadequacy that still hit her at times. When she was with Jared, his attentiveness banished them. Still they lingered. “I do it, just in different ways from Susan.”

“She thinks you're much smarter than she is.”

“That's the myth, I suppose. Who knows how smart Susan is? She's never given herself much of a push. Are you going to give her a push, Sammy?”

“Me? I'm not out to push her anywhere.”

“What are you out to do?”

He thought about that for a minute, then said quietly, “Make her happy. Make me happy.”

It was sweet how he'd put it, she thought. If he could do what he wanted, she'd be happy for them both. “What about the drinking?” she asked, anxious for his opinion. “Do you think it's a serious problem?”

“I wouldn't call Susan a full-fledged alcoholic, if that's what you mean. Drinking isn't the be-all and end-all of her life. When she's busy, she doesn't think of doing it. It's when she's bored or angry or alone that she hits the bottle.”

“You can't be with her all the time.”

“No. But maybe I can give her a purpose.”

“Like…”

He grinned. “Making me happy. What would you say if I tried to domesticate her?”

Slipping her hand under the straps of her briefcase, Savannah stood. “I'd say you were nuts. I thought you weren't out to reform her.”

“I'm not. But if she choose to stay home planning dinner—”

“—and then you don't make it home because you're sent on an emergency assignment, what's she going to do?” She fingered her briefcase before looking back at Sam. “I love you, Sammy. You know that. And I love Susan, and there's nothing I'd like better than to see the two of you together, but if you're serious about it, that's something to be considered. I could cope with the absences because I have my work, but unless Susan has something, what's she going to do?”

“I don't know,” he said. “I'll have to find her something.”

“She'll have to find herself something. There are things she can do, but the effort has to come from her if it's going to work. She hasn't reached the point of wanting to try.”

“Then I'll have to get her to that point.”

“How're you going to do that?”

“I don't know.”

“I've tried. It hasn't worked.”

“So
I'll
try.”

“And if it still doesn't work?”

“I
don't know.
Damn it, Savvy, why are you so down when it comes to Susan?”

“I'm not down,” Savannah said quickly, then meekly asked, “Am I down?”

“You don't think she can pull herself out of the hole she's in.”

“Of course, I do—”

“You don't. Honestly.”

“Honestly, I do. But you can't do it for her. She has to do it herself.”

“And you're not willing to help?” He rose from the table and faced her. “I sensed it about her drinking. You know what's happening but you won't do a thing to stop it.”

“What are you talking about? I've talked with her time and again about the drinking. I've asked her to stop, begged her to stop. I've spied on the condition of her bar. But short of calling her an alcoholic and dragging her off to AA, what can I do? I can't hold her hand twenty-four hours a day.”

“Maybe you don't want her to succeed.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard. You admitted that the two of you are in competition with each other. Maybe you're afraid that if she cleans up her act and makes something of her life, she'll come out ahead.”

“I don't believe I'm hearing this,” Savannah murmured.

“Is it the truth?”

“No, it is
not
the truth. The competition doesn't go that far. It's never reached the point of having a winner or a loser.”

“Susan thinks she's the loser.”

“Well, there are times when I think
I'm
the loser, so we're even.” Bowing her head, she put two fingers to the ache between her eyes. “I don't want this. Not today. It's been a long week.” She shifted her fingers to her lips, then slowly looked up. “I do love Susan, Sam, but I'm not her keeper. Say the word and I'll do what I can to help, but I won't run her life for her. I'm too busy running my own.”

Sam didn't want to argue any more than she did. “The weekend's here,” he said quietly. “You'll get a rest.”

With a smile and a skyward glance, she said, “Lord, I hope so.”

*   *   *

By ten o'clock, Savannah was sound asleep in Jared's bed. After her talk with Sam, she had met with several of the other lawyers in the division about incidental cases, cleaned things up in her office, gone to aerobics class for the first time that week, then stopped home for an overnight bag.

Jared had taken one look at her face and put her to bed. Curled against him, she had fallen asleep almost instantly. When she woke up, it was to the sound of his voice sifting like warm sand from the speaker on the wall.

“It's two o'clock, and you're taking in a little country in the city at 95.3 FM, WCIC Providence. That was the Bellamy Brothers with ‘Santa Fe,' and this is Crowell and Cash. I'm Jared Snow, and I'll be kickin' around with the coolest of cool country sounds until six. In the heart of the night, stay with me.…”

Savannah yawned, then grinned and stretched. She liked waking up to Jared's voice. Better still, she liked waking up to his body, but that was a special treat, reserved for special times.

Feeling incredibly revived for the middle of the night, she pushed the blanket back and slipped from the bed. Pausing only to freshen up in the bathroom, she was soon on her way downstairs. A week before, she would have been appalled to think of running around WCIC Providence in Jared's flannel shirt. But she had become familiar enough with the house in the heart of the night to know that Jared would be alone in the sound room.

The headphones were around his neck, and his eyes were downcast, directed at a stack of papers when she entered the office. He didn't see her, so for a minute she simply stood and looked at him through the glass wall.

He was a beautiful man, she thought, though his beauty had come to be tied up in her mind with thoughtfulness, gentleness and intelligence. She didn't know much about the details of his past. They had spent so little time together that the depth of her feelings shocked her. But she couldn't ignore them. When she thought of him, her heart swelled. So did the nerve endings deep in her belly. And when she looked at him as she was doing now, she felt excitement mixed with the same inner peace she had associated with him from the start.

Glancing up then, he caught sight of her and broke into a brilliant smile. It was all the invitation she needed. Crossing the office, she entered the sound room and closed the door firmly behind her. Then she went to where he sat and slid an arm around his neck.

Hugging her to his side, he turned his face up for a kiss. She gave him one, and at his silent coaxing, a second. He would have liked to go on like that for a while, except that he knew he'd want more pretty quickly. So he left it at two kisses and asked, “How'd you sleep?”

“Just fine.”

“I thought you'd be out of it for the night. You were exhausted.”

“The week finally got to me, I guess.”

“You could have slept longer.”

She shook her head. “I woke up to your voice and an empty bed. It was lonely up there. I thought maybe you were lonely down here.”

He slid a hand over her back. “I was.”

Threading her fingers into his hair, she asked, “How are you fixed for coffee?”

“I made a fresh pot a little while ago. Want some?”

“Mmm, yes.” Leaving him, she went back through the office to the kitchen, helped herself to a cup, then returned.

Jared was in the process of fading one song into another. Hesitant to disturb him, she waited at the door until the new song was underway. Then he motioned her to him and drew her onto his lap.

For a minute he just looked her over. He loved the way his shirt ended at midthigh to expose plenty of skin. He loved the way her pony tail bounced when she moved. He loved the traces of sleep in her eyes and the soft pink color on her cheeks. “You look great.” Unable to resist, he slid his hand down her leg. “Warm enough?”

“Uh-huh.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Jared?”

“Mmm?”

“Why country?” When he tossed a questioning glance back toward the cart rack, she said, “You could have bought any station you wanted. Why this one?”

“It wasn't country when I bought it. It was jazz. And not doing well. My other stations are country. Rhode Island needed a good country station, so here we are.”

“When you bought the other stations, were they country?”

“No. One was oldies, the other two, top forty.”

“Why did you change them?”

“For the same reason I changed this one. They weren't doing well as they were, and where they were, there was need for a good country sound. Besides, I like country.”

That was what she wanted to know. “How come?”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It's good music. Smooth. Relaxing. Fun sometimes, serious other times. The quality of the artists' voices isn't drowned out by lots of other garbage. You don't have to fight to hear the words.”

“Do you listen to the words?”

He nodded.

“So do I,” she admitted softly. She was a hopeless romantic when it came to music. “The lyrics can be very poignant.” She was thinking that they dealt first and foremost with love, but rather than say it, she took another sip of her coffee. “Susan listens. So does Megan.”

“How's she doing?”

“Megan? She sounds better on the phone. I'm going over to see her tomorrow.” Her voice thinned. “She has to start helping us with this investigation. We have so little else.”

“Nothing from the FBI?”

“Nothing. I've never seen a crime so clean. It's incredible. There hasn't been one slip up to give us clues. I can understand that Megan doesn't want to think about the men who hurt her, but if she doesn't think about them, they'll never be caught.”

“Do you think she's repressing things without knowing it?”

“I thought that at first. I'm not sure I do anymore. She doesn't seem confused when I ask, just negative. She has to get past that. There must be something she can tell us about those men. Or where she was held. Or what they gave her to eat. If she had McDonald's food every day, we'd know she was held near a McDonald's. Mostly what we need, though, are physical descriptions. If she'd agree to work with a police artist, we might come up with a picture to circulate.”

“Won't the men be long gone by now?”

“Probably. But we can track them down. God, I hope Megan gives us something soon.”

As she talked, Jared had felt the slow rise of tension in her body. It was always this way with Savannah and work. She was good at what she did, but she paid a price. It was up to him to counter that price.

Leaving an arm around her, he put on the headset and faded out the last song as he spoke soft and low into the mike. “This is cool country, 95.3 FM, WCIC Providence, and that was Highway 101. It's two twenty-five on the CIC clock, with the temperature holding at a brisk forty-four degrees. Lock your door and settle in. I've got a string of six on the way, kickin' off with the Trio—Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris. This is Jared Snow in the heart of the night, I'll be back.…” The music rose as he turned off the mike. Seconds later, he dropped the headphones to the console and looped both arms around Savannah's waist.