“Well, I’ll tell you what he says when I can.”
“Right,” Savannah said. “And ask him who he thinks the most likely suspects are in Zane’s murder, excluding me, of course.” Savannah had already expressed some of her ideas to Ian, including members of Zane’s bank staff, since she’d gotten the sense from some things her ex had said, that he might have played games with the company’s income and blamed it on them, or maybe some of the women he’d had affairs with, but she had nothing that even barely resembled evidence.
And even if she got all the things she was going to request Grayson to get for her, it wouldn’t make sense for her, whoever she became, to accompany him.
But she would broach the subject of his obtaining a good disguise for her before he left.
* * *
That greeting. Grayson had been only partially kidding when he’d told Savannah that from now on he’d say he wasn’t coming, then show up. Both times he’d visited her now, they’d wound up kissing.
He took a long swig of coffee as he remained at the table with her, half wishing it was alcohol, even at this hour of the morning.
He wanted to hang out here a lot longer, but he needed to leave now to get started on his upgraded research for Savannah. Also, he had to spend a few hours in his office getting in touch with some of his police and fire contacts to make sure they were happy with First Hand’s response after the quake, and to seek more assignments.
Besides, he wanted to make some suggestions regarding official preparations for any future quakes. After all, he wanted, needed, to keep a good relationship with all of them.
So, as much as he regretted leaving Savannah, he said, “I’d better get on my way now. I can see you’re doing okay, and I’m glad you consented to my talking to your lawyer the way we discussed—although he’s likely to claim attorney-client privilege and all that if I ask him some of the pertinent questions I have in mind.”
“About his knowing Schuyler, the liar who convinced the cops I killed my ex? Good old Schuyler—and good old Ian. I’ll definitely be eager to hear what Ian says. But—well, I have something to ask you before you go.”
Her expression after she said that appeared both eager and apprehensive. What was she going to ask?
“I appreciate all you’ve been doing for me, Grayson,” she began, picking up the pad of paper he had given her previously and fiddling with it somewhat nervously. He could tell that she had written notes on it. “And that you’re continuing to help me. But I’m sure you can imagine that I’m going nuts hanging out alone here, knowing that if I go anywhere else I’m likely to be spotted and taken back into custody.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s difficult,” he said, wondering where she was heading with this. And he did sympathize with her. Even with her ability now to look things up on the phone he’d brought her, watch videos on it, read free magazines on it and whatever, she remained alone out here in the middle of nowhere.
“And I hate to ask you to spend more money on me now.”
He began to react, since that wasn’t a concern to him and she knew it.
“But,” she continued, “as I said before I’ll repay you when I’m able to. The thing is, I don’t want to be me any longer. Or at least I don’t want to be recognizable in any way.”
“What do you mean?”
She immediately jumped in to explain, showing him the list of items she wanted him to purchase for her—and suggesting he not shop anywhere near Mustang Valley, where he could be seen, and where people would know he didn’t have a significant other to buy all of this for.
And those people could become suspicious.
She jumped up from her seat then and motioned for him to follow her into the bathroom, where she looked in the mirror and gave a better explanation of what she intended to do with the makeup and all, pointing out what changes she would make.
He had to hand it to Savannah. Of course, as a former debutante and someone who had apparently been featured in a few high school acting roles, she’d come up with a lot of good ideas for disguising herself.
“So, if I’m able to find all this stuff, I gather that your nose will look longer.” He reached over and touched her nose softly with his index finger. “Your hair will be deep brown instead of blond—and in this style that no one but me has seen you in anyway.” He gently touched the side of her hair. “Your eyes will appear larger, with dark lashes and brows over them that match your hair.” He touched those brows, too.
As he was doing this, he realized how ridiculous it was—and yet how sexually stimulated he was becoming. And Savannah’s eyes widened as she met his gaze in that mirror.
It was as if he was getting emotionally attached to her. In some ways, maybe he was. But he knew only too well that he didn’t want to get involved with any woman.
This one had particularly gotten under his skin with her sad situation. Well, he didn’t need any kind of relationship with her except as her helper. Anything else would be way out of bounds.
He still believed she was innocent, believed it enough to continue to help her.
Bu what if he was wrong? What if she actually was guilty of killing her husband?
Nah...although he hoped that confronting her attorney and learning more about her that way would convince him even more of her innocence.
It had better. He didn’t want to get caught abetting a genuine murderer.
And touching her here and now? He had to stop. And so he did. He took a step back though he continued to look at her in the mirror.
“Sounds like a good idea,” he said. “But once you look that different, what do you intend to do about it? Run away? Unless you have someplace specific in mind and means to get there, it’s a bad idea.”
“Even so, I really can’t just stay here forever.” Her usually sweet voice had turned into a bit of a wail, and he couldn’t help putting an arm around her.
But she wasn’t having any of that, at least not now. She pulled away and returned to the table, where she sat back down and put her hand on that notepad.
“So what do you suggest?” she demanded, her tone harsher.
“Well, here’s what I think we should do.” He purposely emphasized the “we.” He had already dived into this situation on her side, and she certainly should recognize that—and listen to him.
But would she?
“What’s that?” she prompted.
“I’m going to go see your buddy Ian first, assuming he’ll grant me an audience. I’ll go get the things you’ve asked for, but only after that discussion and some business I need to conduct, when I have some time to get away from the office without anyone questioning where I am. That means I’ll have to get a few things done first. Until then, you need to stay here. Okay?” That, of course, was important.
“Sure, as long as you call me when you can to let me know what Ian says, or tell me if you didn’t get to see him.”
“Sounds fair.” But now he was going to impose a condition she probably wouldn’t like at all—even though it was for her own sake. “The other thing I want you to promise is that, even after I buy the things you want, and you change your looks, I’ll want to give you the once-over before you leave here, to confirm that you really do look like someone else.”
“Fine, as long as you get here quickly after I notify you. I’ll just send you a text message that says ‘Done.’”
“Okay,” Grayson said. “That was the first condition. The second is that you don’t leave until I agree it’s the right time, and then only after you’ve told me where you’re going and how long you’ll be there—and I will also have to agree with that. Might even come with you.” He stared at her hard across the table. He recognized that was being pretty restrictive, but as a professional first responder he had a better sense of where she should or shouldn’t go.
“You’re awfully controlling, are
n’t you?” Those amazingly attractive green eyes were hard and she was clearly irritated.
“Yes,” he said in as jovial a tone as he could muster. “When it makes sense.” He hunkered down then, leaning across the table toward her. “And you can be sure that in this case it does. Do we have a deal?”
Savannah sucked in her lips and closed her eyes for an instant, obviously reining in her emotions and most likely her inclination to say no. She finally opened her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “Do I have a choice?”
“No,” Grayson said.
“Well, under the circumstances, then I guess we have a deal.” She put her hand up, and he noticed the shortness of her plain fingernails, probably required while she was in prison. Did she usually wear polish?
“Good,” he said, standing and reaching for her hand to give it a businesslike shake. “I’ll get on my way now and let you know as soon as I can what happens with Ian—and also go on your shopping expedition as fast as I’m able.”
Her hand grasped his a bit more tightly than he’d anticipated, and didn’t let go immediately. “Thank you, Grayson,” she said in a soft voice. “I might not always agree with you, but you do seem to have my best interests in mind.”
“Yeah,” he said, pulled her closer around the table and gave her a quick hug before he left.
And as he walked out the door, now locked behind him and headed to his car, he wished he could do something to reassure Savannah that everything would be okay for her, and soon.
But first, he needed to do whatever was necessary to start believing that himself.
Chapter 12
Okay, now what? Savannah trusted Grayson. She had to.
But she had also trusted Ian Wright—and she’d had to do that, too.
She was outside the cabin now, walking around it in the open air as she had done with Grayson because she had to do something. Physically, at least. She didn’t want to just wait inside, playing with her phone like a kid.
Not at this moment.
Soon, Grayson and Ian would meet. Savannah had no doubt that Grayson would convince the attorney to see him—especially because of his plan to tell Ian he needed his guidance in tracking Savannah down.
If Ian was the horrible person she now feared he was, a cohort of Zane’s and Schuyler’s, he’d undoubtedly open his office door wide and invite Grayson in so they could discuss where in the world Savannah was likely to be now. He would be keen to find her, professionally or worse.
And Ian might use his lawyerly arguments to state why Savannah should turn herself in so she could go through the legal system as she should.
With Ian still representing her, of course.
Not.
In fact, what would she do now if she were caught again? Would the courts let her fire her current attorney? Probably. But then, who could she hire in his place who might actually help her?
She realized her pace had increased. She was now stomping her way around, possibly noisily, to help calm her inner thoughts—but she was instead igniting them further. If there was any wildlife around, any birds, she had to be scaring them off, even though a sighting of them might help to calm her. They represented ongoing life.
She looked around at the trees surrounding her, through their branches where she could, toward the blue April sky.
She was free now, despite the kinks in her ability to go places. She had to remain free.
Would Grayson actually bring her the disguise items she’d requested?
If so, would they work at all?
Okay, enough of this. She had to go back inside and—
And what?
Survive. Think.
Maybe plan what she could, and would, do once she donned a disguise and left this place.
And determine what Grayson might approve. No, she didn’t need his approval, but she trusted him.
Could that turn into more?
Definitely not, especially when all of this was behind her and she could finally connect again with other people—in a friendly way.
But even then—well, at least for the moment, she hoped Grayson would remain in her life.
She sighed as she turned the corner again from one side to the front of the cabin. Time to go inside again. Get her mind off all of this—or at least try to.
Would she ever be able to?
Not likely until this was all worked out and her innocence was no longer in question.
And she could only hope that would occur very soon.
* * *
Grayson drove a longer route back to his office. Not that he thought anyone was following him, but since he kept coming into the area where the cabins were, he didn’t want to take any more chances of being noticed than necessary.
He checked often into his rearview mirror and saw nothing unusual.
Of course, taking a longer route also meant more streets within Mustang Valley, many of which were easily drivable now despite the quake just a couple of days ago. That also meant some additional views of tables and signs from that Affirmation Alliance Group. Oh, well. He didn’t stop to talk to anyone and didn’t see Micheline Anderson. Maybe she was out assisting more people today. He had done a little additional research on her group and noted that they had a reputation for doing all sorts of useful things, including helping out in other natural disasters besides earthquakes, even heat waves, handing out water and supplies and generally trying to make things at least a little better in whatever situation they found themselves.
Sounded quite good—and yet, especially now that he had met Micheline, he felt glad he didn’t need to deal with them—or her—again.
He parked his car as usual behind his office and walked around to the front door.
As he looked through the windows, he saw Norah sitting at the reception desk against the far wall. Not a surprise. Even though all his employees knew to act as greeters if anyone came in off the street, Norah seemed to like it best. She spent at least part of each day staffing that desk, unless she was off on an assignment as an EMT and not around to help.
They were getting busy enough now, and not just because of the earthquake, that Grayson was considering hiring a receptionist.
“Hi,” Grayson called after pushing open the front door and walking into the large room. “Anyone out on a job?” When he was around, he always had all assignments run by him. But in urgent situations, he never required that anyone wait for his approval when a job came in.
“Yep.” Norah leaned forward. Her light brown hair was pulled up in a bun on top of her head, and she wore a First Hand First Responders T-shirt in red today. “We got a call from the MV Fire Department about an accident on a nearby freeway, possibly caused by quake damage. A big rig and a couple of cars caught fire. There’s a bigger blaze downtown they’re working on, so they asked for Pedro’s help at the accident.” Like the Mustang Valley police, the local fire department knew how well Pedro could help them in a difficult situation.
“I hope no lives are lost,” Grayson said automatically, but meaning it. “Are Chad and Winch here?” He sat down in one of the blue chairs nearest the reception desk.
“No, they were called out, too—this time a sad follow-up from the earthquake. An eighteen-year-old kid is apparently still missing from one of those less affluent areas that had the worst damage. His parents think he probably fled into the desert since he was out on a hike by himself around when the quake hit. They’ve been looking for him and so have some of the official PD first responders, including one of their K-9 cops, but everyone’s getting worried and desperate and asked Chad and Winch to get involved.”
“I hope they find the kid,” Grayson said.
“Alive and okay,” added Norah, and Grayson nodded.
They talked a little longer about how things were going around here—and what Grayson had been up to. Only he didn’
t tell even his probably most discreet and reliable employee the whole truth. “I’ve been in touch with the police to see how things stand in their investigation of the death of the truck driver I found.” That part, at least, was true. Maybe because the local media kept prodding the cops for answers about the missing passenger. “Not much new so far.”
“Do you think they’ll ask us to bring Chad and Winch in on that, too?”
“Could be.” Grayson didn’t want to talk about it anymore with Norah. She was too smart, too insightful. No way would he encourage her to find out what was really going on with Savannah. “Anyway, I’ve got a few things I need to take care of, so I’ll see you later.”
He raised one hand in a wave as he headed for the stairway.
Once inside his office, he closed the door. He got on the computer for a few minutes to look up where his staff members were assigned.
He then searched for news about the crushed transport vehicle. There didn’t appear to be any new information, at least not as reported by the local newspaper or other media—which of course didn’t mean things weren’t happening that were being kept confidential.
He also looked up the website of the office of Ian Wright. He studied the photo of the man before he prepared to call him.
Wright was an older fellow whose hairline had receded, but who still had enough graying hair to provide a nice frame to his face. He stood there in a suit, arms crossed, clean-shaven, staring with intense eyes beneath stern brows into the camera. Grayson continued to look at that picture as he pressed the law office number onto his phone.
As he anticipated, a receptionist answered. Grayson identified himself as the CEO of First Hand First Responders—and also the person who had located the destroyed vehicle that had apparently been transferring Mr. Wright’s client from the court back to prison. He wanted to speak with Mr. Wright about that and ask him some questions.
The woman got off the phone for a minute, then returned. “Mr. Wright is about to start a meeting here that will last for most of the afternoon. Can he call you back later?”
Colton First Responder (The Coltons 0f Mustang Valley Book 4) Page 12