by Ann Mullen
“He represented a friend of mine. The guy was guilty, and Roger got him off. I lost all respect for Mr. Damon after that. You have to have some integrity. A lawyer chooses his clients, not the other way around.”
“Then who’s picking up the tab?”
“I’d like to know the answer to that myself.”
Billy went to grab the doorknob, but stopped when Cole appeared from inside the room. He took a step back and waited.
“You know the drill,” Cole said. “You can’t go in there. I’m here to see to it that you don’t.”
“Just a minute, Cole,” Billy said. “How do we know that Savannah’s being treated fairly… by the book? She doesn’t have her lawyer present. I’d have to testify in court that she didn’t have counsel to advise her. How would that look for your case?”
“You know the drill,” I added, sarcastically.
Cole rolled his eyes and then stepped back into the room. Before he could come back out, the doctor arrived. He went into the room, and then a few seconds later, Sheriff Hudson and his deputies emerged. The sheriff didn’t look too happy.
“What’s he trying to pull?” I whispered to Billy.
“Intimidation,” Billy responded, quietly. “I’m sure he advised her of her rights, and then said something to the effect that if she wasn’t guilty, she shouldn’t need a lawyer.”
“Can he do that?”
“I most certainly can,” the sheriff said. “You know I can hear everything you say.”
Cole laughed at us. I wanted to slap him.
The doctor walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. “Mrs. Kelley’s being released,” he said, and then looked at me. “She asked for you.”
The sheriff stepped forward, but the doctor held up his hand and said, “She’s getting dressed. You can see her when she’s finished. She’s not going anywhere.”
“That’s what I tried to tell him,” I said before slipping into Savannah’s room. I closed the door and turned to see Savannah fully clothed, sitting on the hospital bed. “Things have taken a turn for the worst, haven’t they?” I sat down next to her on the bed. “The sheriff’s going to arrest you as soon as you walk out that door. I guess you know that by now, don’t you? What did you tell him?”
“I didn’t tell him anything,” Savannah replied. “My husband’s a lawyer, remember? I knew better than to say a word.” She looked at me as a tear slid down her face. “But I’m going to jail.”
“Don’t worry about that. You know McCoy will bail you out. He’s your husband, and even after all this, he still loves you. He’ll be there for you all the way.”
“I can’t believe it!” Savannah exclaimed. “I’m going to prison because of a stupid email! I sent that email awhile back. I wasn’t serious. I was just responding to one she’d sent me. I never meant…”
“What email?”
“Sheriff Hudson had a copy of an email I sent to Andrea, telling her that if she wanted to talk with me, she knows where I live—maybe not in such a pleasant way. The email was pretty rude.”
“You invited her to your house?”
“I didn’t think she’d come. Besides, she didn’t even call or email me to set up a time.”
“Murder isn’t something you make an appointment for, Savannah. If that’s what she really had in mind.”
“It was, Jesse, I swear!”
“All the sheriff has is an email? That’s not enough evidence.” I looked at her, took her by the shoulders and asked, “Is that all, or is there more?”
“He has a picture of the three of them at the hospital. He found it in her car along with the crumpled up printout of the email. I tried to tell him that McCoy had a drunken one night stand with Andrea… nothing more. It didn’t mean anything. We worked through it. It was over.”
A lie.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said. “There’s not much more we can do for you, but we’ll find McCoy for you as soon as we leave the hospital.”
“No,” Savannah said. “Find Russell. He’s my lawyer.”
As soon as we stepped out of the room, Deputy James walked up and said, “Savannah Kelley, you’re under arrest for the murder of Andrea Holt.” He handcuffed her wrists and continued, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything…”
Savannah jerked her hand as if by doing so she was going to release herself from the restraint. Then she started yelling at the police officers. Her wild outburst shocked us all. Even Billy was stunned—and there’s not much that shocks him.
“Where’s my husband?” she screamed. “It’s his fault I’m in this mess! I didn’t do anything wrong. Go get him. Make him tell you the truth. He sent that woman to kill me. They planned the whole thing together. Too bad their plan fell through. I didn’t die! How do you like that now, McCoy Kelley and Andrea Holt?”
“You need to calm down,” Sheriff Hudson said. “You don’t want to add resisting arrest to the list of charges.”
“What list?” I demanded. Neither the sheriff nor his deputies would answer my question.
Savannah became silent. She was finally beginning to realize the dire situation she was in. She looked up at Billy and asked, “Would you go get Russell? I guess I’m going to need his help after all.”
“I don’t know where he is. Security kicked him and McCoy out of the hospital for fighting. I’ll see if I can find him. I’ll call Russell’s cell phone as soon as I get outside.”
“McCoy and Russell were fighting over me?” Savannah seemed to take some pleasure in knowing that two men were going at it because of her. I found it appalling. Here she was, being arrested for murder, and all she could think about was…
“I guess you think I’m a pretty bad person, but I swear to you, Billy, I didn’t murder Andrea Holt. It was self-defense. I swear.”
“I believe you, but that’s not for me to decide,” Billy replied as the police were leading her away. “We’ll do what we can to help you.”
All eyes were on Savannah as the police escorted her out of the hospital. She hung her head and cried the whole way. Once outside, the press swarmed her. It must have been a terrible ordeal for her to go through, but at least Sheriff Hudson and his deputies did their best to shield her from their relentless questions.
I felt so sorry for Savannah. Her life was about to take a drastic turn, and not for the best. Her name would be dragged through the mud, and her readers would desert her in droves. She was about to fall from grace—something from which she would never recover.
“This looks really bad for Savannah,” I said to Billy as we walked to the parking garage. “I don’t think she realizes how much.”
Thunder rumbled overhead. A streak of lightning flashed against the darkened skies as a summer storm headed our way. I looked up and made a comment about how I hated to be out in bad weather.
“It’s going to get a lot worse, and I’m not just talking about the storm that’s brewing.”
We reached the truck just before the bottom fell out. The rain came down hard, and the thunder intensified along with the lightning flashes. I cringed every time I heard a boom or saw a flash.
“Why don’t you slide over next to me and close your eyes until we get home. I’ll keep you safe, `ge ya.”
“And not wear my seatbelt? Are you crazy? What if something happened? Mom would have a fit. I’d never live it down.”
“There’s a middle seatbelt next to me,” Billy offered. “Dig around for it. I know it’s there somewhere.”
I did as Billy suggested. I scooted over next to him, dug out the seatbelt, and then lay my head on his shoulders as I closed my eyes for the drive home. It was nice just to be close to him.
Digging out the seatbelt would soon prove to be a wise move. Barely a mile from our house, Billy slammed on the brakes, and then started yelling obscenities in his native tongue. I opened my eyes just in time to watch us fishtailing down the road before we plunged into a ditch. The truck bounced around and then slammed into s
omething so hard it caused us to stop cold. The rear end flew up for a split second at the moment of impact, and when it dropped back down, the truck came to rest on its left side. The engine stalled, and smoke billowed from under the hood.
Both of us had been jostled, but at least we hadn’t been tossed around in the cab like a dishrag—or thrown through the windshield. Thank goodness we’d been wearing our seatbelts!
“What just happened?” I asked, looking over at Billy to see if he was hurt. “Are you all right? It’s so dark, I can’t see a thing.”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled as he tried to straighten himself up. It didn’t help that I was lying up against him. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m okay.”
The stormed raged outside. The downpour made it hard to see anything around us, but it was obvious there weren’t any cars on the road. No one stopped to help us. I was so scared, my hands were trembling. And then smoke from the engine started seeping into the cab.
“We have to get out of here,” Billy shouted, trying to talk above the thunder and the pounding rain. “Unbuckle your seatbelt, Jesse, and climb out the window. I’ll give you a push.”
I finally managed to release the seatbelt, and then reached for something to grab onto. I was able to stretch just far enough to get hold of the door armrest. I pulled myself up, propped one foot on the hump in the floor for leverage and strength, and then tried to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. I struggled until Billy stopped me by saying, “Forget it, Jesse. Crawl through the window.”
I pressed the switch on the armrest, and the window came down without a hitch.
“Go!” Billy demanded. He put his hands on my rear end and gave me a shove. His strength was amazing. He pushed me so hard I almost flew out of the window. I tumbled out of the truck and landed on the road, looking up just in time to see the headlights of a car heading toward me. I scrambled to get out of the way.
The car screeched to a halt, pulled over to the side, and the driver got out. A tall, husky man ran over to me and asked, “Are you all right, Miss?”
Before I had a chance to tell him that my husband was still in the truck, I saw Billy’s head emerge. He threw out the two vests and my purse first, and then crawled out. He limped over to me.
“Are you hurt, Jesse?”
“I’m okay, Billy. What about you? You’re limping.” I was about to examine his leg, but he stopped me.
“I jammed my knee,” he said. “It’ll be fine.” He turned to look at the man who had stopped to help us and said, “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” the man said. “But I didn’t do anything except almost run over your wife. I thought for sure I was going to hit her.”
“Thank you anyway for stopping.”
The rain continued to beat down on us as the man introduced himself. “I’m Bruno Michaels. I’m so glad I came by when I did. Let me give you a ride.” He motioned to his car. “Do you live close by?”
“I’m Jesse, and this is my husband, Billy,” I offered.
“Thanks,” Billy said, appreciatively. “We just live right up the road.”
We were almost bent over trying to avoid the pelting rain as we hustled to Bruno’s car. I quickly grabbed the door handle and crawled into the back seat. I didn’t feel like talking, so I figured if Billy sat in the front, he could do it for me. After our road spill, I was exhausted, wet… and now scared. For some reason, a thought kept repeating itself in my head. This wasn’t an accident. Someone did this to us on purpose. Billy doesn’t lose control of a car, unless…
“What happened to you guys out here?” Bruno asked after we got into his Lincoln Town Car.
Oh… what luxury… I could live in a car like this. The smell of fine leather was intoxicating. I felt bad that we were soaking wet, sitting on this Good Samaritan’s genuine leather seats. The guilty feeling didn’t last long.
“A car pulled out in front of me,” Billy told him. “I couldn’t stop. All I could do was try to get out of the way.”
“He must’ve been crazy. He could’ve killed you. In weather like this you need to be extra cautious. Only a fool would take such risks.”
Bruno started the car and made a U-turn in middle of the road. “Where can I take you?” he asked. “Do you want to call someone? I have my cell phone.” He must’ve pulled it out and offered it to Billy, because Billy, in turn, said, “No thanks. I have one, but we’re not going to need to make any calls. We can handle everything when we get home. You can turn right onto Bear Mountain Road right up here.” Billy pointed to our road. “We’re the second driveway on the left.”
“I know your family,” Bruno said as if he had just realized he knew us. “The Blackhawks. Good folks.” He chuckled and then added, “And this must be the new bride.” He looked in the rearview mirror at me.
“Not so new anymore,” Billy replied.
“Thanks a lot,” I hissed at him.
“What I meant is that we’ve been married five years.”
“Has it only been that long?” I asked, teasing him. “Are you sure? It seems like it’s been a lot longer. Ages… and ages... and ages.”
“I… I…” Billy tried to get the words out.
“You can stop backtracking, Chief Mud-on-Your-Face. It’s way too late for that.”
“Ah,” Bruno added, “Jesse… the outspoken, skinny little white girl, who’s full of spunk and guts, and will make a fine P.I. one day, according to Chief Sam. I remember you now. It’s been awhile.”
“And I’ve only gotten better with time,” I replied, smiling.
The lively conversation was pleasant and such a morale booster, but it didn’t last long. Bruno dropped us off at our house, waved goodbye, and drove away with a promise that our paths would surely cross again.
“Such a nice man,” I said to Billy as the two of us ran up onto the porch, shaking the rain off our drenched clothing.
Billy didn’t respond.
“Okay, before we go inside, I want you to tell me what you didn’t tell Bruno. I know something’s fishy. What’s going on?”
“That wasn’t our first encounter with that car.”
I got his full meaning right away. I gasped and said, “The red Dodge Charger.” I shook my head. “I knew I had a strange feeling for a good reason. It wasn’t an accident!”
“Someone’s playing a deadly game with us, and I don’t play well with a person like that.”
It was payback time. Billy was going to track down this guy and put a hurting on him… and I was ready to accompany my man.
Chapter 8
The summer storm continued on its rampage. Thunder boomed overhead as if grenades were going off, and every flash of lightning lit up the kitchen. After changing into dry clothes and then checking on the children, who were in bed sleeping comfortably, we went to the kitchen to have a cup of coffee. Helene had just fixed a fresh pot.
I told her about the accident we had, and although she was clearly upset by the news, she didn’t ask a lot of questions. Billy started making the necessary calls, while I sat at the table with her, drinking coffee, listening to his every word, and praying that he wouldn’t get struck by lightning through the phone. Mom always said to stay off the phone during a storm, but sometimes it can’t be helped.
Billy’s first call was to Russell. He quickly explained about Savannah’s arrest and told him that she needed his help. As expected, Russell must’ve agreed to jump right on it, because the call was very brief. The next call was to McCoy, but he wasn’t answering his cell or house phone. Next in line was the call to Redman Auto Center—now owned by Greg Blackhawk since the death of his father, Daniel—concerning Billy’s wrecked truck. They would tow the truck to their body shop and give him an update on its condition as soon as possible. Billy was certain that the truck was totaled, and if so, he would need a new one. I’m sure this would make the dealership’s day, because business had been slow. The economy was a disaster, and gas prices were off the charts.
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Jonathan was next on the list. Billy wanted to see if he had any information about the partial license plate number after our first run-in with the Dodge Charger, but soon found out that the numbers didn’t yield the information he was seeking. However, Jonathan had his contact compile a list of all owners of a red Dodge Charger in a hundred mile radius. One familiar name appeared on the list—Donald Rhodes.
Hmmm… now why would Donald Rhodes be after us? I asked Billy that question as soon as he ended the call to Jonathan.
“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. Right now, I have other things to handle. We’re going to have to take your 4Runner when we go back out.”
“We’re going back out? Where to? You don’t still plan on sitting out in the woods and spying on that man in this storm, do you? I remember one time when we sat out in the woods doing just what we plan to do now—and I got shot.”
“What?” Helene demanded to know. “When did you get shot? Was it bad? Oh, my Lord. I bet Minnie had a fit.”
“It’s a long story I don’t want to relive just right now, and, yes, she did have a fit,” I replied, propping my head in my hands, elbows on the kitchen table. I looked over at Billy. “The first thing I thought of was how romantic it would be for us to cuddle under the stars as we snooped on that dirty dog, but that was before Mother Nature unleashed her dark side. If we’re going back into the jowls of Hell, I want…”
“Don’t fret, `ge ya. We’re not going to do that. I know of your fear of storms. I’ve already come up with another plan.”
“I’m sure glad to hear that. Sitting out in the middle of the woods in a thunderstorm isn’t my idea of a fun time.”
“Not to change the subject,” Helene interjected, “but is anyone hungry? I saved a plate of fried chicken for both of you.”
Billy smiled, went to the refrigerator and pulled out two plates full of food. Neither one of us bothered to heat any of it, not even the vegetables. Helene thought that was just too gross. Who ate cold mashed potatoes and peas? We just laughed at her.
“A lot of our food is cold,” I said. “In our line of work, sometimes we’re lucky if we get a chance to eat at all.”