Heart of the Night (8 page)

“Not all the time. Be diplomatic about it—talk a little, prod a little, keep quiet a little. Putter around in the kitchen. I don't think Will has eaten a thing all day, and the house is loaded with food.”

“I was just kidding about that. Am I
really
supposed to be the cook?” She quickly took another shot of scotch. No sooner had she swallowed when she grumbled, “I should have told you I already had plans. It wouldn't have been far from the truth. Dusty and Joy had asked me to drive up to Boston with them, but the weather was lousy and—”

“Kidnapped, Susan,” Savannah interrupted. “Megan has been kidnapped. We are not talking about her having her appendix taken out or getting lost at La Guardia. This is a little more important than a night on the town in Boston.”

For a minute, Susan just stared at her. In a very quiet voice she said, “I know.” Then her attention was caught by something behind Savannah, her eyes widened in fear, and she murmured quickly, “Uh-oh. Trouble. There's a guy behind you and he sure as hell doesn't belong here—”

Savannah whirled around. Sam was propped indolently against the arch between the dining room and the hall. She let out a small cry of relief and pressed a hand to her chest. “Sammy! Don't creep up on us like that!”

“You know him?” Susan whispered in disbelief. Her eyes took in the tall, rangy form with its worn jeans and sweatshirt, its distinct five o'clock shadow, its long, wavy hair. “What's he doing here, and why's he staring at me?”

Glancing back at her sister, Savannah whispered in return, “Maybe because you're staring at him.” Continuing in the loud whisper that, if anything, mocked Susan, she said, “He's part of the detail assigned to the house. He'll be here as long as you will be.”

“Detail?” Susan echoed. Not once had she taken her eyes from Sam, who heard everything that was said.

“Police,” Savannah informed her sister. She took pleasure in Susan's shocked expression; her superior demeanor bothered Savannah.

“
He
's with the police?”

Coming to life, Sam ambled forward. He extended his hand to Susan and said with a pronounced southern drawl, “Sam Craig, at your service, ma'am.”

His hand remained empty and waiting for ten seconds, before Susan recovered her poise. As disreputable as he looked, the way he moved and talked bespoke sheer male power. Though Savannah appeared to be totally comfortable with him, Susan felt threatened.

Of course, she had no intention of showing it. That was the part of the game she could play well. Tipping her chin up a notch, she slipped her hand into his and returned a firm grasp. “On behalf of the Vandermeers, I'd like to thank you for being here, Officer.”

“Lieutenant,” he corrected in that same, slow drawl, then amended it to, “Sam.”

Determined to hide her nervousness, Susan hurried on. “It's kind of you to give us your time. This is a new and frightening experience. I'm sure you've been through it before. We deeply appreciate your help.” As smoothly as possible, she retrieved her hand.

He offered her the faintest tip of his head. “My pleasure.” Then he turned to Savannah and without a trace of a drawl said, “This has to be your sister. Her pictures don't do her justice. She's stunning. Why have you been hiding her?”

Momentarily amused, Savannah argued, “I haven't been hiding her. You saw her at the party I threw at my father's house last year.”

He shook his head. “I would have remembered.” He looked at Susan again. A faint smile touched his lips. “She really is a beauty.”

“Uh-huh,” Savannah said, still slightly amused.

Susan wasn't amused. With the disappearance of Sam Craig's drawl, she felt taken for a fool. She didn't like that at all.

Addressing herself to him, she said, “Did no one ever tell you that it's impolite to talk about someone as though she weren't there?”

“Is it?” Sam asked innocently. “Funny, you seemed to feel it was okay when you did it to me a minute ago.”

“That was different. I didn't know who you were.”

“Then it's okay in some situations but not others? If I'd have been a thug, like you first thought, it would have been all right?”

“When I first saw you, I was frightened. I was talking to my sister.”

“About me, within easy earshot.” His drawl returned. “You're a snob, Miss Susan.”

“And you're out of line, Lieutenant. As a member of the police department, your job is to serve the taxpayers of this state. Given the hefty chunk the state takes from my income each year, I'd say a little respect is in order.”

In a perfectly respectful tone, Sam asked, “And what do you do to earn that income?”

Impertinent question though it was, it held enough of a dare to goad Susan. “I allow various banks and foundations and corporations the use of my money. In that sense, I've been involved in urban renewal, cancer research, and higher education. I serve on the boards of two art museums, one historical society, and hospitals both in Rhode Island and New York. I also happen to know how to give a party, and considering that a single evening's event can raise several million dollars for one worthy cause or another, that's nothing to sneeze at.” Drawing herself straighter, she said, “I'd think about that, if I were you, Lieutenant. I'd think about it the next time you put on that drawl and come at me with that sexy walk. We're not in the same league, you and I. Sorry to disappoint you, but it's true.”

She started to walk past him, then, on impulse, stopped and reached up to lightly brush her fingers through the shorter layers of hair by his cheek. “Nice cut, though. Maybe you'd give me the name of your stylist. Lately I haven't been able to do a thing with my hair.” With a haughty smile, she left the room.

Sam stared after her. For another minute, he remained silent. Then he muttered, “Jesus, she's tough.”

Savannah shook her head. “It's a front. She's having a hard time finding direction in her life.”

He snorted. “Could've fooled me. Sure sounded as though she knows exactly where she's at.”

“She can be glib when she wants. It's a defense mechanism. She's really insecure.”

He turned to stare thoughtfully in the direction in which Susan had disappeared. “She's so different from you.”

“I have my insecurities, too.”

“But you've never come on with a power play like that.”

“I've never had to, at least, not with you. You don't threaten me. But you threaten Susan.”

He looked perplexed. “Are you kidding?”

Savannah shook her head. “You're strong. You know where you are and why you're there.”

He laughed in disbelief. “Your sister isn't threatened by me. Weren't you listening to her? She thinks I'm way below her.”

“You didn't see her expression when you first came in.”

“Sure I did. I was looking straight at her.”

“But you didn't see her expression.”

“She was terrified. She thought I was a thief.”

“After that.”

“She liked my sexy walk.”

“It was more than that, Sammy.”

He looked at her closely. “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying,” Savannah explained slowly, “that you're very different from the men in her world. You exude a self-confidence that is truly powerful. That makes her nervous.”

“Why should it?”

“Because you can see through her. You did. You put her down easily with that snobbery business. That's why she's threatened. That's why her defenses came up. That's why she came across as being tough. She had to. For her own sake, if nothing else.”

Sam stood beside her, silently considering that for a moment. Finally he said, “So what can I expect? Will she be giving me the cold shoulder from here to eternity?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how comfortable you can make her feel. If she's threatened, she'll lash out. If not…” Her voice trailed off and a small, suggestive smile curved her lips.

Sam studied that smile. “If I didn't know better, I'd think you were giving me a push.”

“Me?” Savannah held up her hand. “I don't push you anywhere. You do your own thing. Besides, God only knows I have enough else to worry about.”

It was an apt reminder for them both. Sobering, Sam said, “We're ready for the lab. Want to call a courier?”

She nodded and started off, then stopped. When she looked back up at Sam, she was less sure than usual. “Susan is nervous about all this. She's here because I asked her to come and because Megan's a friend, but given her druthers, she'd leave in a minute. If she stays, she'll be tense.” She paused. “Go easy on her, Sammy. And keep an eye on her for me when I'm not here. She's not happy with her life right now. When I called her to come over, I was thinking that it would do her good to focus on someone else for a change. Will you let me know if you think I made a mistake?”

Sam gave her an understanding nod.

She smiled in gratitude before leaving to call the courier.

*   *   *

Soon after, Savannah returned to the office. She'd been able to reassign some of her work so that she could spend time at the Vandermeers, but there were some matters that couldn't be delegated. She was scheduled to go to trial the following week on an arson conspiracy case. There were witnesses to prepare, one of whom, an expert on insurance fraud, had flown in from Omaha and was waiting in her office when she returned. She spent two and a half hours with him, then met with the two police detectives who had been working on the case. She needed more information, including corroboration from one of her own witnesses. After that, she attended the weekly meeting of the criminal division. Technically, she was second in command in the division, but the first in command had been out of work for a month recovering from open-heart surgery, and it looked like it would be a while longer before he returned. Savannah had emerged quite naturally over the last year as the one others went to for advice, and she had easily assumed the responsibility of conducting division meetings.

By nine o'clock that evening, she was headed back to the Vandermeers. She felt guilty for not waiting with Will and Susan, but she had to keep up with her work unless she wanted a complete nervous breakdown. She couldn't spend the night at Will's as she had asked Susan to do, and she felt even more guilty about that. But she just couldn't. She knew herself. The tension was building inside. She needed a break.

Will was where she had left him, at his post by the kitchen phone. He had a blank piece of paper and a pencil within reach, ready to take down any information the kidnappers might transmit. He was alternately holding the pencil and setting it down, folding a corner of the paper and flattening it, turning to look at the clock and facing the paper again.

Wearing the same chic yellow jogging suit that she had arrived in, Susan was sitting in one of the eight captain's chairs that encircled the large round kitchen table. She was methodically shifting the old-fashioned glass in her hand by quarter turns on the wood surface. She looked up once, when Savannah entered the room, then looked back at her glass. But that single brief glance had been defiant. Savannah knew not to mention the drink.

Sam and Hank were sitting at the table with drinks of their own. Rather than old-fashioned glasses filled with liquor, though, they held mugs of coffee. She guessed they were on their fourth or fifth cups. She was a coffee drinker herself, but not to excess. She recognized a caffeine shake when it was starting and knew when to stop. Sammy and Hank never stopped, but then, they never shook. They could drink coffee all night, while they took turns sleeping. And they would sleep soundly. The caffeine didn't faze them. She assumed it had something to do with the sturdiness of the male physique; strength was one of the few concessions she was prepared to make to the male of the species. It could make them exciting, or terrifying.

“What are they doing with her?” Will cried, his eyes tired now but no less alert. “Why haven't they called?”

Taking a seat between him and Hank, Savannah laced her hands tightly together. “They're waiting for the right time.”

“Do you think she's okay?”

“I have to think that.”

“Will they feed her? Make sure she's warm enough?”

“She'll eat when they eat and be as warm as they are. I'm sure they have no intention of either starving or freezing.” She paused. “What happened with the insurance company?”

“One man came and looked around,” Will answered.

Hank offered a little more. “We talked with him. He seemed satisfied.”

“Is he getting the money together?”

Will grew agitated. “Sure he is, but he doesn't trust us to have it here. He wants to wait until we've gotten the call and arranged the payoff. Then he'll get the money over.” He swore between his teeth. “You'd think we were trying to gyp him out of something. What in the hell have I been paying premiums for if not situations like this?”

“He has to be cautious,” Savannah reasoned. “Three million dollars is a lot of money. It's his job to guard it well. We can't really blame him for that.” She inhaled. “As long as he can get his hands on that money when we need it.” Her gaze grew more concentrated. “Will, is anything else of Megan's missing? Any jewelry? Money from her wallet?”

It was a minute before he focused on what she'd asked, and even then he seemed confused. “I haven't looked through her jewelry. I assumed they were only interested in her.”

“I saw a pair of earrings on her night table.”

“She takes them off when she gets into bed.”

“Where does she keep the rest of her things?”

“There's a safe in the library. It hasn't been opened. I checked.”