Lasting Shadows: Shadows Landing #3

by Kathleen Brooks

  “That’s very kind of you, Chief.”

  “Shadows Landing is a small town, and we look after our own here. Besides, I have been thinking about what you said. There was no question in your mind that you didn’t use the stove. I want to look around and see if I can find anything else. I have to make a determination for your insurance company. Even if it was arson, it’ll be hard to prove. It’s not like the gas line was yanked free or gasoline spread across the house.”

  “Thank you for looking again,” Savannah said as they made their way to the charred kitchen.

  “Granger called me and told me about the broken arbor and signs there may have been a boat pulled up on the property.” Chief Lambert began to look around the kitchen. His mustache sank low as he frowned the longer he looked around. “I think I’m going to have to rule it inconclusive. I’m sorry I can’t find the answer for you.”

  “Thank you for your work, Chief. I’ll send you my award-winning cobbler when my kitchen is operational.”

  His mustache wiggled as he smiled. “Well, I won’t turn that down. I don’t think there’s anything a firefighter likes more than food. Good day, Miss Ambrose. Please let me know if I can help you in any way.”

  Pickup trucks began to roll in as Chief Lambert left. They were weighted down with wood, tools, and contraptions Savannah couldn’t identify. Last to pull in was Ridge. He got out of his truck and his eyes instantly went to hers.

  He didn’t look like an architect. No suit and perfect hair. Instead, he was in jeans that hugged all the right places and his hair looked as if he’d run his hand through it in frustration several times already.

  “How are you?” Ridge asked, and she felt the meaning in his words. It wasn’t a simple greeting. He cared.

  “I fell asleep on the couch outside, but I slept all night.”

  “I brought some plans. My crew will start the cleanup while you pick the design you’d like. And if you don’t like anything here, I can draw up new plans according to your desires.”

  Oh, Savannah had desires but pen and paper weren’t involved. Soon the sounds of construction filled the air as Ridge laid out different plans to her. The first one was nice, but the second one, well, it was perfection. The window she loved to look through over the sink was blown out into French doors and a small kitchen table could fit there while the appliances had been moved to the other side of the kitchen.

  “This one,” Savannah practically gasped as she envisioned sitting and drinking her coffee while looking out over the gardens to the river.

  “I’ll get the guys right on it.” Ridge stood for a moment and Savannah began to wonder if there was more to the plans.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight. My cousin Harper runs Shadows Bar in town, and she’s having a live band. I thought we could eat at Lowcountry Smokehouse and then head down to the bar.”

  Savannah had held her breath while he was talking for fear of missing what he was saying, but now she almost shivered with excitement. “I’d really like that.”

  “I can pick you up at seven?” Ridge asked. Savannah shook her head.

  “I want to go into Charleston this afternoon to look at some things for the house. I’ll let you know when I leave for home, and then we can decide if seven or seven-thirty is better. Does that work?”

  “It does,” Ridge smiled with relief and excitement as Savannah accepted his invitation. They’d had such a good time yesterday, and he wasn’t ready for it to end. “I need to talk to the guys and show them the plans. We’ll be here working every day for the next three weeks.”

  “Thank you for moving me to the front of the list. I know you must have other clients.”

  He did. In fact, after he talked to his crew, he had to call who was supposed to be next. The plans were all drawn up and Ridge would share that with him to keep him satisfied over for the next month. His client’s wife had an interior decorating hobby so sharing the plans now would probably save him a month of no work. The wife was known to pick and prod at things until they were exactly how she wanted them. Strangely, they usually ended up almost exactly where Ridge’s original plans had started.

  Ridge had designed a lake house for them before. The woman had spent two weeks moving the sockets around until they were “perfect.” Perfect had been exactly where Ridge had put them in the plans. But if it made his client happy, he feigned surprise at how good they looked there.

  “It’s nothing that can’t wait. Besides, they already have a place to live. You need this fixed now so you have a place to live with a kitchen.”

  “Thank you, Ridge,” Savannah said as she placed her hand on his arm and gave it a little squeeze. Ridge would have sworn she’d touched someplace a lot more intimate than his arm by the way his body reacted.

  “Have fun shopping. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Ridge watched as Savannah headed inside. Okay, it was time to get his head into the game and focus on work . . . at least for the next twelve hours.

  “Great day of work, guys,” Ridge said as the men packed up their tools. Savannah had left Charleston already, and Granger had just texted him to stop by the station. After he talked to the sheriff, it would be time to get ready for his date.

  “See you tomorrow, Ridge,” a worker called out as they left for the day.

  Ridge waited until everyone was gone before making sure the house was secure. Then he got into his truck and headed to Granger.

  “Where is everyone?” Ridge called out as he entered the sheriff’s department. Normally Brenda Baker, the sweet woman in her fifties who was the gatekeeper of the department, was sitting out front, guarding the office. But she wasn’t there. And if she wasn’t there, usually one of the other part-time deputies was there. Even Deputy Kordell King’s office was dark.

  “I’m in my office,” Granger called out through the empty department.

  Ridge waited until he heard the buzz of the door on the far side of the counter and then he opened the door and entered the police department. Ridge walked down the small hall, past the rows of filing cabinets, the messy desks the two part-time deputies used, and the large oval meeting table.

  “What happened to the dry erase board . . . oh,” Ridge asked as the question had been answered as soon as he walked into Granger’s office. His desk was covered with papers, and the dry erase board that was normally in the main area was crammed into his office. Granger’s short sun-streaked brown hair was sticking out as if he’d just been caught in a storm, and the room didn’t look much better. “What’s going on here?”

  “I talked to Chief Lambert who told me he couldn’t rule one way or the other on Miss Ambrose’s house fire. It also bugged me about the grass down by the river, so I asked Gator about Bubba or any other large alligators in the area.”

  “And?” Ridge asked, suddenly feeling as if there were rocks in the bottom of his stomach weighing him down.

  “Did you know she went through a nasty divorce?” Granger asked as he pointed to the dry erase board where there was a picture of a man straight out of reality television central casting. Underneath, it read “Penn Benson” followed by bullet points of the things that came up during the divorce.

  “Yes. I know about some of it,” Ridge told him as he looked over the board. There were newspaper clippings from the divorce. There were legal documents highlighted. And then there were Granger’s own notes. “Do you think he had something to do with the fire?”

  “I thought it was possible so I looked into him further, but I found pictures of him at a charity event in Charleston last night. Apparently he’s here for the week for some venture capitalist conference. Last night he was the emcee of the event. I even called Ellery and got Tibbie’s phone number to check to see if Penn was there all night.”

  “I think Gavin and Ellery might’ve been there, too. Ellery can run in those circles if she chooses,” Ridge said of his cousin and his new wife. Ellery was the head of an art gallery in Charleston and had
the right pedigree for Charleston’s elite social scene.

  “They went but only stayed an hour. She gave me her friend’s number. And as you know, as the grande dame of society, Mrs. Elijah F. Cummings knows everyone and everything.”

  “Did you call her Tibbie?” Ridge asked, his lips twitching with amusement. Only those incredibly close to the octogenarian would dare be so informal. Ellery and Gavin had been given that honor.

  “Lord no. I’m not stupid.”

  “And since you’re not pleased, it appears she provided an alibi for Penn.”

  Granger nodded. “Not only that, but I suddenly have a new deputy. She wheedled the truth out of me faster than a Spec Ops interrogator. Now she’s determined to find out everything she can about Penn Benson.”

  Ridge thought for a second. “That’s not entirely bad. She has access to things we would never have access to. Even Ryker can’t get into the sewing circles, book clubs, or charity brunches.” Ridge’s cousin Ryker was a shipping magnate based out of Charleston. His family knew the real Ryker—the one who laughed and played as a child. To the outside world, though, his glacial stares left people quaking. He was famous for his ruthlessness in business. No one messed with Ryker and survived in the business to tell about it. His vast wealth and political influence got him access to a world they were not born into. The trouble was that in the South the men might be powerful forces in business, but it was the women who ran the town.

  “I thought that, too, which is why I didn’t argue with her,” Granger told him. “I must admit I am at a loss. By all accounts, Savannah was the perfect wife. She is described as being highly intelligent and can maneuver in society as if she were Tibbie herself. I heard of no one other than her husband holding a grudge against her.”

  “What about the former friends who were having an affair with Penn?” Ridge asked, looking over the dry erase board.

  “I set Tibbie on them. They may be Atlanta society, but from what I have learned from Tibbie, Charleston society is by far more elite. Something to do with tracing roots back further. I don’t pretend to know, but Tibbie said she was on it.”

  Ridge looked at his watch. “I’m having dinner with Savannah in an hour. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Granger smiled, something his friend needed to do more of. Granger had been in a terrible car accident in his early twenties. His girlfriend at the time had told him she was pregnant. When he lost his football career, she suddenly wasn’t with child and had moved on to the next athlete, but not before telling Granger how grotesque his scars were from the accident. He had a foot-long scar down his side and another slightly smaller jagged one down his thigh. Cousin Wade’s new wife, Darcy Delmar-Faulkner, had given Granger a pep talk. She’d forced him to show her his scars and told him that yes, they were there, but they were not grotesque. Any woman with “more brains that boobs” wouldn’t care at all. Since then, Granger hadn’t dated a soul. Well, not that Granger ever dated. Ever since the accident he had a string of one-night stands. However, now he was smiling a little more and those one-night stands were fewer and farther between. He even went fishing with the guys last week. He left his shirt on, but he actually wore board shorts. Usually he was never seen in shorts. All the Faulkner cousins were thrilled to see the slow changes Granger was making and encouraged him as much as possible.

  “I was hoping you’d ask her. She might be more likely to tell you things she wouldn’t tell me,” Granger told him. “I have Kord watching her house tonight just in case the fire was arson.”

  Granger’s phone rang and Ridge turned to review the board. Would Savannah’s ex-husband really try to kill her? And if it wasn’t Penn—and it looked like it wasn’t with his alibi—then who would want to hurt someone trying to start her life over in a new town?

  6

  Savannah had picked out her new cabinets and appliances. They were being ordered and would be ready to be installed whenever Ridge’s crew was ready for them.

  Savannah turned onto South Cypress Road as she began the final ten miles home from Charleston. The roads went from city, to suburban, and then to rural. Savannah let her hair fly wild in the wind as the perfect fall air blew off the river and engulfed her in the smell of pluff mud. She was still getting used to its strong smell at low tide as she followed the curves of the river.

  River turned to swamp as she headed slightly away from the main river to enter the west side of Shadows Landing. Savannah turned up the radio as her favorite song came on. This was happiness. It had been so long since she felt it.

  BAM!

  Savannah heard the explosion, saw the fire leaping out from under her hood as she approached a sharp turn. Her singing turned to screams as she stomped frantically on the brake pedal and nothing happened. She fought the steering wheel, but it didn’t move. She was going to crash into the swamp and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  “Missy, are you alive?”

  The thick country twang permeated the darkness.

  “Don’t matter, Gator.”

  “Gator? Save me from the gator!” Savannah whispered, her eyes still shut as the darkness began to drag her back.

  “Bubba, no! Get back, boy,” she heard someone yell. “Turtle, get the truck,” the same voice ordered.

  “Turtles can’t drive trucks,” Savannah muttered as her mind battled the darkness.

  “Skeeter, hold her neck steady. We have to get her out of the car before it blows. I can smell the gas and the fire’s spreadin’.”

  Hands wrapped around her neck and Savannah wanted to battle them, but she couldn’t move. Then she heard a slicing noise and her body fell to the side. She was caught by large hands as her seatbelt was cut off. Then she moved, struggling to open her eyes as she felt herself being eased down on something hard. Ropes were tied around her, pinning her to the hard board.

  “Get Bubba out of here,” the voice ordered again. She heard yelling, a splash, and then she felt herself being lifted up and set down again.

  “He’s gone now, and we better be too.”

  “Drive faster than the wind, Turtle,” the one who was giving orders yelled.

  “Hold on, missy. We’ll get you to the hospital in a jiffy,” the first voice she’d heard said. Someone held her hand as tires spun and whatever vehicle she was in took off.

  Savannah moaned as they bounced over uneven ground. She was outside. The wind was hitting her, but she was strapped down. She must have been in the back of a pickup truck.

  “There she blows,” the man giving orders said a second before a loud explosion rocked the truck.

  “Sorry about your car, missy.”

  That was the last thing Savannah heard as the blackness took her. She dreamed then of talking alligators and turtles driving race cars.

  “Ridge, wait,” Granger said seriously as he put his hand over the phone, but he didn’t wait to see if Ridge listened before talking into the phone once again. “What’s her status?”

  Ridge felt his stomach plummet. Something bad had happened and he knew it happened to Savannah.

  “I’ll send Kord and Lambert to the scene and meet y’all at the hospital,” Granger said with tight lips and cold eyes. He hung up the phone and was already grabbing his brown cowboy hat as he spoke to Ridge. “Savannah’s been in a car accident. She’s unconscious, but she talked to Gator when they got her out of the car before it exploded. Turtle is driving them to the hospital with Gator and Skeeter in the back, taking care of her.”

  “Her car exploded?” Ridge asked as they jogged out of the sheriff’s station.

  “Strange, isn’t it? First the house and then her car.”

  Ridge was already thinking the same thing.

  “Follow me,” Granger ordered. “And try to keep up.”

  Ridge had no trouble keeping up. His body was a bundle of frayed nerves. Seeing the flaming wreckage didn’t help either. Kord and the volunteer fire department were seconds behind him, but Granger and Ridge didn’t stop. They h
eaded straight for Charleston Memorial Hospital.

  “Gavin,” Ridge said into the pickup’s Bluetooth.

  “Hey, cuz. What’s going on?”

  “Savannah is heading to Charleston Memorial. She’s been in a bad car accident. Turtle, Gator, and Skeeter are driving her straight there instead of waiting for the ambulance.”

  “Who’s Savannah?” Gavin asked, flipping instantly into doctor mode.

  “She bought me at the auction, and it was her house that had the fire down the road from you.”

  “The redhead. Gotcha. Do you know her injuries?”

  Ridge took a deep breath to calm himself. “I only know that she talked a little and is now unconscious.”

  “Full name and age?”

  “Savannah Ambrose. Twenty-eight.”

  “Are you on your way there? I hear sirens.” Gavin was taking notes. Ridge could tell by the way he spoke.

  “I’m following Granger. We’re worried that these accidents haven’t been accidents.”

  “Two accidents in a matter of days sure is suspicious,” Gavin agreed. “I’ll call the hospital and give them a heads-up. Do you want me to meet you there and take primary on the case?”

  “Yes, I’d feel better if you were there. You could at least translate what’s going on for me and help me make any decisions if she’s unable to do so herself.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Ridge pressed the hang-up button on the steering wheel and stuck to Granger like a tick to a deer as they sped toward Charleston.

  Savannah came around slowly. It wasn’t a quick gasp and suddenly she was awake. It was subtler than that. She was first aware of the beeping noise. Then she felt oxygen blowing up her nose. She heard hushed whispers of someone in the room. She was in the hospital. That she knew. How she got here she didn’t know. In a flash the car accident came back to her. Then things went fuzzy. Surely an ambulance brought her to the hospital, not the alligator and turtle from her dream. The voice grew louder as she was brought more into the present.