Heart of the Night Page 5

  Returning to the kitchen, Savannah found Will in the same spot. His hair was disheveled and the knot of his necktie had been loosened. “No call,” he told her, then murmured, “Stupid of me. You would have heard the phone if it had rung.” He paused impatiently. “When are they going to call?”

  She wished she knew. “It’s early. They’re probably giving you a chance to get your act together.”

  “Or sweat a little.”

  “Maybe. Have you had anything to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Tired? When Susan gets here, you could try to get some rest.”

  “I got plenty last night,” he said, making no attempt to hide his self-disdain.

  She couldn’t help but follow his lead. “What time did you go to bed?”

  “Early. A little after ten.”

  “Was Megan with you then?”

  “Yes.”

  “But she got up at some point. Do you have any idea when that was?”

  “I didn’t wake up, if that’s what you mean. But from what Megan’s told me before, she probably slept for a few hours, then got up at twelve-thirty or one.”

  “How long was she usually up?”

  He shrugged. “A couple of hours. Then she’d go back to sleep.”

  “Did she last night?”

  “How would I know that if I was sleeping?” he snapped.

  She indulged his bad humor. “You might have woken, or been half asleep but aware of her beside you. I hate to have to ask these questions, Will, but I’m trying to narrow down the times during which she was taken. As things stand now, we guess it was somewhere between midnight and six. The kidnappers wouldn’t have risked anything after dawn.” She paused and studied his downcast expression. “You didn’t hear a thing during the night?”

  “No.”

  “No noise you might have thought was part of a dream?”

  “Nothing.”

  She nodded, glanced around the room, then inhaled a deep breath. “I’d like to take a look around upstairs. Is that okay?”

  He was suddenly cautious. “The kidnappers didn’t go up there.”

  “How do you know?” she asked, but her brows were raised and a gentle smile touched her lips.

  With his mouth compressed into a thin line of surrender, he sent her upstairs with a flick of his hand. Savannah wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but there wasn’t much more she could ask Will. He was wound tight, feeling frightened and bruised. It seemed best to leave him alone for a bit. Perhaps something would come to him.

  Savannah had only been to the second floor of the house once before, when Megan had wanted to show her the diamond earrings and necklace that Will had bought her for their second wedding anniversary. Four years had passed since then. Megan hadn’t bubbled about anything as exquisite as those jewels, and Savannah had never again climbed the stairs.

  The change was subtle, but sad. The house had aged.

  Trying to ignore that, Savannah wandered the length of the balcony railing. She peered into one guest bedroom, then another. Each appeared neat and stale. A third room was sadder, in its way. It was to have been the nursery. Megan had had it decorated soon after her marriage, at a time when she’d seemed sure children would be forthcoming, and indeed, soon after, she had become pregnant. In her fourth month, though, she had miscarried. To Savannah’s knowledge, she hadn’t conceived again.

  Savannah came to a halt at the door of the master bedroom. It was truly a stunning room, with a four-poster bed, surrounded by brocade drawbacks that matched the drapes. The dressers were antique and the accessories—small oil paintings, delicate china figurines, brass lamps—were well chosen. She knew that Will had done extensive renovation and redecorating in the days immediately before his marriage. She suspected nothing had been done since then.

  The bed was unmade, but otherwise the room was immaculate, which was surprising. As a schoolgirl, Megan had been a slob. Will was the neat one of the pair. Either he was doing the cleaning now, she mused, or Megan had turned over a new leaf.

  Feeling like an intruder, she forced herself into the room. She noticed small things—the books on the nightstands, the gold earrings on Megan’s, a pair of glasses on the mantel, cold ash in the fireplace. Stopping at the entrance to the master bath, she couldn’t help but smile. She knew that Megan adored this room. It was huge, the by-product of an older, smaller bathroom and what had once been a gentleman’s dressing room. The walls were lined with sinks and mirrors, the ceilings with recessed lights. Large plants were everywhere, and in the center of the room was a jacuzzi.

  Savannah flicked the wall switch that turned the radio on. The sound of Reba McEntire’s voice filled the room. Savannah listened for a minute, a small smile creasing her lips. The song drew to an end. Her pulse skipped a beat. She waited.

  But the voice that followed was not the one her senses were conditioned to hear. It was louder, less intimate, more boisterous than gentle.

  “You’re listening to cool country, 95.3 FM, WCIC Providence. This is Joseph Allan Johnson taking you through the afternoon hours. It’s three-oh-four now and warmer than it’s been, thirty-seven degrees and drizzling outside our studio. I’ve been advised that there’s been a three-car accident on I-95 southbound near the 195 interchange, so if you’re leaving the city early, you’ll want to take an alternate route. We’ll keep you informed of the progress on that one. 95.3 FM, WCIC Providence, for a little country in the city. At three-oh-four, we’ve got a five flush coming up without a commercial break, kicking off with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.…”

  Feeling empty, Savannah turned the radio off and left the bathroom. She went to the hall, paused at the railing overlooking the foyer, glanced back at the bedroom, then down again. The master bedroom suite was almost directly above the library. If only Will had heard something. If only he had set the alarm. If only he would say yes to bringing in the FBI.

  She paused at the top of the stairs, then went back to peek into the one room she hadn’t inspected. It was smaller than the others. There was no more than a desk, several chairs, a file cabinet, and a lamp. The desk was strewn with official-looking papers. It seemed that Will did work at home. But why didn’t he use the library downstairs, and why, fastidious man that he was, did he leave things in such a mess?

  She went downstairs and for several minutes stood at the bottom of the staircase. If Megan had managed to escape her kidnappers and reach this spot, would Will have heard her?

  “Did you find anything?”

  Startled, she swung around to see Will at the head of the hallway that led to the kitchen. “Uh, no. Actually, there was nothing. No great inspiration.” She paused, thought, frowned. “Will, why wasn’t the alarm on?”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I suppose I could say that Meggie turns it off when she’s up so she won’t accidentally set it off, and that’s probably what I will tell the insurance company.” He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. “The fact is that it’s broken. It hasn’t worked for a couple of months. The repairs will require several thousand dollars’ worth of rewiring. I figured I’d let it go until the business took an upswing.” Savannah knew the admission caused him pain.

  “Several thousand versus three million. Looks like you bet on the wrong horse.” She tried to inject a lighthearted tone, but bitter shock shone through.

  His laugh was the saddest she had ever heard. “That’s nothing new. I’ve been doing it for years. If I had a knack for picking the winners, the business wouldn’t be dying now.”

  “Why haven’t you hired someone to help?”

  “An outside consultant?” His anguished chuckle touched Savannah. “Because they’re expensive.”

  Savannah could not respond. It wasn’t her place to lecture, nor was she in the mood. The emotional strain of Megan’s kidnapping was beginning to get to her. She found it stressful to pretend otherwise.

  “Well,” she sighed, “that’s neither here no
r there right now.” She glanced toward the library. “Let me see if Sammy and Hank are ready for a lab pickup.” Just as she turned, Will started forward.

  “Savannah?” He stopped short when she looked back at him. “I told you about the alarm system because I want you to know the truth. If anyone can help me get Meggie back, you can.”

  Savannah was not a genius or a miracle worker, and she resented his placing the bulk of the burden for Megan’s return on her shoulders. But when she opened her mouth to argue, he rushed on.

  “There are two other things you should know.” He paused, looking faraway and very disturbed for a minute. When he spoke again, there was a faint tremor in his voice. “I know that I sometimes give the impression of being one-dimensional, but I’m not as dumb as people think. I don’t know what to do to save my business, but I do know enough to worry about it.” He paused again, then, as though realizing that the faster he did this the better, he continued. “I take sleeping pills. That’s why I sleep soundly. It’s a legitimate prescription given by my doctor. I can show you the bottle. You can check it out. But there’s no point in your wondering why I didn’t hear anything last night. I never hear anything at night. I’m totally out of it.”

  “Oh, Will,” she murmured sympathetically, but he was intent on finishing what he had begun.

  “The other thing is that Megan’s gun is gone.”

  She felt herself pale. “Gun?”

  “I’ve always been worried about her safety. For the same reason that I took out insurance against kidnapping, I bought her a gun to keep in her nightstand. It’s a small thing. I’ve looked all over for it, but it’s not here. She must have taken it downstairs with her.”

  “Would she have heard the glass break and then gone downstairs?” Savannah shook her head, answering the question herself. “No. Meggie wouldn’t be that dumb. She’d have woken you, or called the police.”

  “I figured that, too. I think she just took the gun with her when she went down to read. Maybe she’s been doing it ever since the alarm system broke. Maybe she had a premonition.” He ran a weary hand around the back of his neck. “Christ, I just don’t know!”

  Savannah was thinking of the reason why she had never wanted to carry a gun herself. God only knew, she had cause. She had sent some violent men to prison, and more than once, in a courtroom confrontation, she had been threatened. But she had always figured that a violent man would have the gun out of her hand and aimed at her before she could muster the wherewithal to pull the trigger.

  She feared for Megan.

  “I think,” she said quietly, “that I’d like to share this with Sammy.” Without another word, she went into the library, closing the door behind her and leaning back against the wood.

  Hank spared her a quick glance. “We’re almost ready to ship the first of this to the lab.”

  Sam looked at her for a minute, then stood and came to her side. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  “You look pale.”

  “My blusher must be fading,” she said softly, then, “Sammy, there’s a gun involved. Megan had a small pistol with her. She usually kept it in her nightstand, but Will says it’s gone. I assume she brought it down here, and if so, she may have tried to use it when the kidnappers broke in. Have you found any evidence”—she sent a glance toward Hank, who had also straightened and was listening—“of a gun having been fired in this room?”

  Sam, too, shot a glance at Hank, then looked back at Savannah. “Damn good thing I’ve got a change of clothes in my duffel. It could take a good long time to inch along every one of these bookshelves looking for a bullet hole. Why couldn’t the damn walls have been covered with white plaster?”

  Savannah looked at the ceiling, then shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut, and spoke through gritted teeth. “This case sucks shit.”

  Hank shushed her. “Ladies don’t talk that way.”

  She opened her eyes. “Right now, I’m no lady. I’m a prosecutor investigating a case that I shouldn’t be investigating in the first place, because I have a personal involvement in it.” She held up her hand. “And as far as my language goes, whatever I know,” her gaze took in both detectives, “I’ve learned from you.” Swinging around, she left the room.

  No sooner had she passed through the living room when the doorbell rang. She continued on into the vestibule and peered around the edge of the gathered sheer. The woman who stood on the front step, her head wrapped in auburn curls and her body in silver fox, was a welcome sight. Savannah quickly opened the door.

  “I don’t believe this,” Susan said and hurried in past her sister. “I’ve been trying to grasp it since you called.” Her voice was low and urgent. “Poor Meggie. Poor Will. Has anything happened? Anyone called?”

  Closing the door, Savannah shook her head. “Will is waiting in the kitchen. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, and there really isn’t much he can do but wait.” Belatedly, she wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulder and gave her a quick hug, then reached to relieve her of the large overnight bag she’d brought. “Thanks for coming. I can’t handle this myself, and Will shouldn’t be left alone.”

  Susan regarded her with a mixture of annoyance and nervousness. “I’m not sure I was the best one to call.”

  “I am,” Savannah countered.

  “I don’t do well under pressure.”

  “You’ll do fine.”

  “Will needs someone to give him strength.”

  “You can do that. You’re Megan’s friend.”

  “What does one have to do with the other?”

  “Dedication,” Savannah said. Dropping her voice, she urged Susan down onto the vestibule bench. “When was the last time you talked with Megan?”

  “Last week.”

  “Did she say anything odd?”

  “No,” Susan said. She began unbuttoning the fur jacket. “But she didn’t look great. I think she and Will are having problems.”

  “What made you think that?”

  “We’d be talking, and suddenly she’d say things like, ‘Why is life so hard?’ or ‘I’m tired of fighting.’ I mean, as statements went, they were in context with the rest of the conversation, but somehow I knew she really meant it. You know Meggie; she spent most of her life struggling to break even. She thought that was over when she married Will … What happened?”

  The question was almost rhetorical, but Savannah needed to talk as much as her sister needed to listen. Savannah, Megan, and Susan had been a tight trio for years. Though Savannah’s career had distanced her somewhat, the emotional bond between the three remained. For that reason, Savannah had no qualms about betraying what would, in other circumstances, have been a confidence. Moreover, she had called Susan for a reason, and if she expected her to be of help, Susan had to know the score.

  “Money,” she said very quietly. “The business is failing.”

  Susan didn’t seem at all surprised. “Then the talk is right.”

  “Talk?”

  “Gossip. It’s my specialty, Savvy. You know that. I may not be good for much else, but I do know the latest rumors.”

  “And the one about the Vandermeers—”

  “—says that Will is slowly but surely running the business into the ground.”

  Savannah was silent for a minute before finally admitting, “Harshly put, but basically true. To use Will’s own words, this kidnapping couldn’t have come at a worse time.” She looked up just as Will approached and raised her voice. “I was just filling Susan in on what’s happening.”

  Susan stood and quickly went to brush her cheek to his. Lightly grasping his arms, she said, “How’re you doing, Will?”

  “I’ve been better.”

  “Meggie will be fine. You have to believe that. She’ll be fine.”

  He said nothing.

  Uncomfortable with the silence, Susan hurried to fill the void. “Savannah and her crew are the best. If anyone can foil this thing, they can.”

/>   “I wish they’d make their move,” he said. “The waiting is unbearable.”

  Savannah rose to join her sister. “It could be a while longer,” she warned. “They’ll pick their own time.”

  Susan, who had assumed from what Savannah told her on the phone that she would be back in her own home by the next day, eyed her sister with caution. In a deceptively light tone, she asked, “How much time? What’s the range for kidnappings?”

  “It could be a day, a week, or more,” Savannah said. She had answered honestly, but the immediate winces from both Will and Susan made her soften the blow. “Actually, in a state this size, it will probably be less than more.”

  “Why is that?” Susan asked with an indignance that covered up her growing fear. She sensed she had been snookered into something more extensive than she had originally thought.

  “Because there’s less room to hide.”

  “What if they leave the state?”

  “I doubt they will. They’ll want to stay close for the sake of phone calls and ransom pickups. In an area like this, which can be pretty well canvased, the longer they hold her, the better our chances of finding them. They’ll want to get their money and run.”

  “We hope,” Will murmured.

  “Damn right, we do,” Susan drawled. Catching a look from Savannah, she added a quick, “But I’ll be here as long as you need me.” Then she paused and said more drolly, “Of course, you may have second thoughts after a day. I’m a lousy cook.” When Will didn’t crack a smile, she said, “And I’m a worse housekeeper than Meggie.” Still no smile. She looked at Savannah and muttered, “This isn’t my day.” Hoisting her overnight bag to her shoulder, she walked to the staircase, dropped the bag, and headed toward the dining room liquor cabinet.