“Have you ever done this kind of thing before, David?”
“What are you asking?”
“I just, I don’t know, I didn’t think that kidnapping was something I needed to worry about when we were together.” Savannah knew she should keep to the script, give him what he wanted. But her confusion was demanding answers. Did he just snap? Was he a sociopath who knew how to hide it really, really well?
“Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t kidnapped you. I’m just forcing you to look at something that you wouldn’t see without a little bit of prodding. You don’t need to be so dramatic. I’d thought about you for years before I worked up the nerve to ask you out. The day you asked me to hand you a stirrer at Cuppa Joe’s, I knew you were the one. And then you blew it.”
He walked over to her chair, deliberately, and ran his fingers down the length of her hair. Savannah braced herself. Was David going to kill her? She hadn’t given much thought to her own death but wondered if maybe she should have. Eliana would have to go live with her mother, a woman she barely knew. There was so much Savannah wished she had done differently. She shouldn’t have isolated herself and Eliana as much as she had. She should have given people the benefit of the doubt. She should have given Micki a chance before completely writing her off as an imbecile who would ruin the town she’d worked so hard for. She should have allowed herself to take risks, and she should have eaten the damn ice cream. Savannah closed her eyes and prayed for more time.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The brakes on the Crown Vic squelched as she pulled into her designated parking spot at her apartment. Her car was taking up that spot and probably the one next to it, too. She dared someone to give her shit about it.
Rebecca was sitting at the kitchen table, chips and dip set out in front of her. She was munching lazily while watching videos on her phone.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, standing up as soon as Micki walked through the door. Micki raced through the kitchen toward her bedroom.
“Savannah’s missing. He’s got her, wherever he is.”
“Who, her old assistant?”
“No, David.”
“David? No! How do you know?”
“I just do. How much do you know about him?”
Rebecca paused. “Oh my God. Not much, really. I’ve talked to him a few times at the diner, but that’s about it. We mostly talk about regular stuff like the food at the diner, weather, his job. That’s it, I guess.”
“Never about Savannah?”
“No, not at all. He knows I watch her daughter. That would just be weird. Although I guess it might be weird that he’s never asked about El, since he was with Savannah for a while.”
“Has he ever mentioned anything to you about where he used to live or where he likes to vacation or if he has a secret passage in his house, for God’s sake?” Micki rubbed the back of her neck anxiously. She was headed to his house when she thought about the fact that she didn’t have enough ammo if things went to shit.
“No, nothing like that. I’m really sorry, Mick. I don’t know anything about him in that way.”
“Does he have any family? Any fucking friends around here?”
“I’m pretty sure his family lives out in Iowa. Friends? Maybe bank people? He’s kind of a loner. Which is surprising because he’s a good-looking guy who can be really friendly.”
Micki breathed out slowly. “Okay. Thanks. If you don’t hear from me, can you please pick up Eliana from Amelia Haggerty’s house at nine tomorrow morning? Just tell her Savannah had an emergency business meeting or something.”
“Wouldn’t she expect you?”
Micki nodded. “Yeah, I suppose she would. Tell her I had to go with her mom. There’s some sort of meeting in Manchester that we needed to go to.”
“Okay, no problem. Call me as soon as you know anything. Are you and Savannah like, together now?”
“Rebecca, this is really not the time.” Micki ran to her closet and grabbed the metal box containing her backup pistol and ammunition.
Rebecca followed her in. “I totally get that. Yes or no question.”
“I don’t know. Kind of. I have to go,” Micki said, flying out the door and down the steps to the parking lot.
“Are you there yet?” Micki asked, keeping the button pressed on her radio as she jumped into her car.
“Doesn’t look like he’s here. I’m canvassing the perimeter at the moment. SUV isn’t in the driveway,” Jack said, his voice coming in clear through the low hum of static.
“I’m on my way.” Micki rubbed the bridge of her nose and pressed down hard on the worn gas pedal.
* * *
She kicked the door to his small, ranch-style house so hard that it swung from the hinges. Micki’s weapon was steady as she searched David’s house for any signs of life. There was nothing. Angrily, she tore through closets and flipped tables onto their sides, spilling the contents onto the floor. She searched for something, anything, that could tell her where he had taken Savannah.
“Fuck!” she yelled into the empty house, going through each room, corner by corner. She took a few deep breaths to slow herself down. Micki had to be thorough, methodical. She radioed Billy and directed him to get any records he could find—registrations, deeds, warrants—anything.
Micki searched through the shoeboxes David had stacked on the shelf in his closet. Bank receipts, invoices, the mortgage documents for the house she was currently ransacking. She moved to his nightstand and found a to-do list, a phone number for a podiatrist, and the operating instructions for a scientific calculator. It was all very normal. There was no sign of a detailed diary written in blood with a quill, outlining David’s innermost thoughts and plans, though Micki really wished there was. For a horrifying second, she wondered if she might have been wrong about him.
But no. She knew Jamie had been too easy, too blatant. Her gut was never at peace with Jamie as the villain. He was sleazy and abhorrent, but by everything she had uncovered, not an overt criminal. And then there was that song, that fucking song that was too obscure to be a coincidence. If David had children or had even purchased the Johnny Cash version, it would have given Micki pause. But he didn’t. She wasn’t wrong, not this time. She could feel it in her bones.
David lived a pretty nondescript life. He had orange juice in the refrigerator, a Time magazine on his coffee table, a painting of the ocean at dusk hanging on his wall. There was nothing that screamed out that this man was unhinged. Micki slid a small Tupperware container from beneath his bed, and for a moment, thought she had hit pay dirt.
She peeled off the lid to find pictures of Savannah, some alone, some with David. Micki’s stomach flipped with anger and fear at the sight of her. They both looked happy enough. In a few photos, they were dressed up and posed at some function; in some, David had taken selfies on the lake. Savannah’s lips were turned up in a smile, but that glimmer that Micki had grown so fond of was missing. Other than the photos, a newspaper article detailing Savannah’s acquisition of the elementary school property and a necklace with a sterling silver sun lay on the bottom of the container. That was it.
“Is everything all right?” a voice asked, interrupting Micki’s pursuit.
“Who’s there?” Micki asked, jumping up and running toward the foyer. Her hand immediately went to her weapon.
“Ruth Davis!” the tall woman answered quickly.
Micki assessed that she was probably in her late sixties and seemed harmless enough. Her oversized, retro glasses probably helped with that.
“I’m David’s neighbor. I thought I heard some commotion so I wanted to make sure he was okay. You’re the police chief.”
“Do you know where he is?” Micki asked, trying to appear more relaxed than she felt.
The woman’s eyes moved over the mess Micki had made. “Um, no, I don’t. He hasn’t been around much lately. He’s a very nice man, though. Never had any problems here.”
“Has he mentioned anything a
bout a girlfriend? Or any place that he goes regularly besides Winter Valley? Does he visit his family often?”
“Well, I don’t talk to him all that much. More so during the summertime because our decks are quite close. If you take a look through his kitchen window, you can see where our backyards intersect. He’s usually grilling—”
“That’s so nice, that the two of you share stories in the summer,” Micki interrupted, forcefully tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “So, has he? Mentioned anything about a girlfriend or anywhere that he goes often?”
Ruth Davis looked rattled. “He was dating someone for a while. That Savannah Castillo. From the town council. Not the nicest woman, that I can tell you.” She raised her eyebrows at Micki, sharing a secret with her. “She has quite the reputation for putting people off.”
“I’m familiar with Ms. Castillo, thank you,” Micki said, interrupting again. “What about a vacation home or a rental or something like that? Does he like to camp? Does he like to hike? Does he go to the ocean much?”
Ruth Davis thought carefully, her finger on her chin. “Is this official police business?”
“Yes.”
She nodded as though that made some kind of difference. “He did mention that his father had a cabin somewhere up north. I’m not sure where, exactly. He was very private, David.”
Micki’s pulse quickened. She continued to half listen as Ruth Davis prattled on about the neighborhood and how they all took turns hosting the summer barbecue and that this year it was David’s turn, so she hoped he’d be able to fulfill his end of the bargain; otherwise, that would just be rude. Micki looked through the drawers on the table in his hallway, sorting through checkbooks and writing utensils and key chains from various tourist attractions. And then she found it.
A forwarded piece of mail from an address she wasn’t familiar with: 44 Rural Route 9, Sunshine Point, ME. It was postmarked 2014, some kind of tax notice. It wasn’t rock solid, by any means, but it could hold the key to Savannah’s whereabouts. It was the best lead she had. She thanked Ruth Davis for her time and ran out the door.
“Me again, Billy. Can you tell me who owns this property?” Micki rattled off the address, even though she was already getting on the highway. She wasn’t going to waste a second if that’s where he had her. She could hear Billy typing in the query.
“Yup. That belongs to David Shaw Senior. Who, coincidentally, checked into the resort last week down in Jamaica. I have the records here if you want them. Looks like neither of them use a suffix in their everyday life.”
“Son of a bitch. What else do you have?”
“Not much. He mortgages the house here in town, leases his Ford, never been married, his family members are mostly living in Iowa. Not a whole lot here.”
“I’m on my way up to the cabin now,” Micki said. “Call in some backup, will you?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Savannah remembered what David’s fingers felt like on her skin not so very long ago. A cup of vanilla. Fine. Nice, even. But nothing exciting. She tried to will herself back to that place now as his hand caressed her arm. It felt like an earthworm slithering slowly up toward her shoulder, but she swallowed her revulsion. Shuddering in disgust wouldn’t do. Not now.
He smiled down at her with what appeared to be pity or, worse, sympathy. Savannah watched as he walked out of the room, his hand worrying the unusual five o’clock shadow that had grown in. He had on a blue T-shirt with one of those happy-faced stick figures on it. Savannah remembered it from their time together. She couldn’t come to terms with the idea that this was the same man who watched late-night talk shows while eating peanuts out of a tin. The same man that offered to have the tires on her Infiniti rotated. She didn’t end the relationship because he was a bad man or because he treated her poorly. Savannah just decided that she wanted more. More what? She hadn’t known, exactly. Until she felt it with Micki.
“We really could try again,” she attempted, taking a deep breath. David sat on the edge of the bed again, taking a long swallow of hard lemonade. “I won’t lie. You’ve scared me half to death. But maybe it was just what I needed to finally realize the truth. I was unfair to you.”
For an instant, Savannah saw David’s face soften. His eyes let go of some of the anger, and he seemed to be contemplating her honesty. “I could never trust you again, Savannah. I would have done anything for you, and you just walked away. Like I was nothing.”
Savannah searched within herself to see if there was truth in what David was saying. Had she just cast him aside like he was garbage? No. No, she hadn’t. She’d told him the truth. There were many, many things Savannah regretted in her lifetime; the way she and David had split up was not one of them.
“Untie me. I’ll show you how sorry I am.” Savannah sighed internally, knowing her options were limited. She wanted to spit venom at him, to tell him that she was under no obligation to return anyone’s feelings, and his supposed undying love for her was his problem, not hers. But now wasn’t the time for that particular speech.
David stood over her. She looked up at him beneath hooded lids. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, hoping she was the very picture of sorrow and repentance. He was wavering, she could feel it.
“So you can try to run? You obviously take me for a fool. I can see nothing has changed.”
“Where would I go? Where would I even run to? I have no phone, no car, and you’ve said that there isn’t a neighbor for miles. Running through the woods at night isn’t exactly my idea of a good time. It’s just…my wrists hurt. I’m tired. And I want to make this right. David, please. Like you said before, it’s just the two of us, no distractions. We can talk and maybe reconnect.” Savannah looked at him hopefully, choking down the bile that threatened to crawl up her throat.
David paused. His stick person T-shirt was starting to show signs of perspiration. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against Savannah’s. “If I free you and you so much as try to go to the bathroom without my permission, I will hogtie you, gag you, and leave you for dead. Do you understand me?” His breath was hot against her face.
“Yes.” Savannah was breathless. She felt a sliver of hope begin to creep in.
David produced a pocket knife and made quick work of the zip ties. He stared down at Savannah with a mix of anticipation and mistrust. “Get on the bed.”
Savannah rubbed her wrists and stretched her arms; rolled her neck to ease the ache. She had no idea how much time had passed since he’d taken her to this godforsaken place. She gingerly got out of the chair and made her way to the bed. Savannah willed away the tears that desperately wanted to fall and sat down on the edge of the plaid comforter. David motioned for her to get closer to the center, which she did. He sat next to her, their thighs touching. He fidgeted with his pocket knife.
“I didn’t want it to be like this, Savannah. If you had only listened to me. If you had only put the same amount of effort into our relationship that you put into ending it. You did this.”
Everything inside of her wanted to scream, hit, strangle. His misguided manipulation was disgusting.
“And I said I was sorry,” she whispered.
David put his hand on her back, tenderly. Savannah tensed immediately.
“Sore,” she explained when he frowned at her. She played with a tiny piece of filling sticking up through the fabric and looked around the room as casually as possible, trying to locate anything that could be used as a weapon. She had to do something, and she had to do it quick before she found herself tied to the chair again.
“I am sorry about that,” David said, resting his hand on Savannah’s knee. “I’ll be honest. It was gratifying watching you, watching your fear grow. Even though it led to that woman staying over at your house. At first, I was happy about it. I was having enough of an impact on you for you to alter your entire life. But then, when I saw the two of you, I was disgusted. I knew you’d been with women before, obviously, but to let her take ad
vantage of you like that. It’s weak, Savannah. Weak. I knew sending you that stupid mirror would send the chief scurrying in the wrong direction. I always hated that Jamie gave you something you kept on the wall, like he meant something to you. It seemed fitting he be the one you thought was lovesick.”
So many things ran through her head. Explanations, curses, insults. Cutting people to their core had always been something that Savannah was deft at. That she wasn’t able to do it to David made her sick to her stomach. She knew she could reduce him to an amoeba in under a minute, but sharp words weren’t going to help now. She needed to think.
David took her arm and pulled her closer to him. He leaned forward, rubbing his thumb along the line of her eyebrow. “I’ve missed this so much,” he said, tilting forward to kiss her.
Savannah lay there, allowing him to brush her lips with his. The tickle of his beard and the roughness of his fingertips nearly sent her into a panic, but she persisted. She parted her lips slowly, waiting for him to do the same.
David responded instantly. He opened his mouth, inching closer to Savannah. Groans of his approval began to fill the room.
Until Savannah took his bottom lip into her mouth, sucking gently. And then she bit down. Hard.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Of course it would rain. Finding a house or cabin or a fucking tent on some dirt-covered rural route in deep, dark Maine in blinding rain should be a piece of cake.
“Where the fuck is 202?” Micki shouted, squinting to see the miniscule road signs up ahead. They weren’t even signs, really, just small plastic placards stuck into the side of the road on flimsy stakes. She cursed herself for not investing in an old-school Garmin or TomTom for the cruiser, considering she’d lost her cell signal an hour earlier. At some point she’d have to persuade the council to budget for a new vehicle; the urgency just hadn’t been there before. Micki resorted to the freshly coffee-stained map of Maine she’d thankfully grabbed at the New Hampshire line Gas ’n Go. She hadn’t seen a house or a street light in probably forty miles. The dampened map and instinct alone would need to drive this one.
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