by Brenda Novak
“You’re carrying my baby and you know it,” Scott ground out. “Why are you pretending it might be Gavin’s? Why are you making him believe it’s his?”
“Because it could be.” That was true, she told herself defiantly.
Scott’s eyes widened until she could see white all around the brown irises. “Oh, my God! You’re trying to trap him! And he’s stupid enough to let you.”
A red-hot rage shot through her. When she’d spoken to Gavin an hour or so ago, he’d indicated that he had some things to do and wouldn’t be able to see her tonight. He’d said she should go to her parents if she felt threatened by Scott, which had set her insecurities ablaze. That wasn’t like him. Normally, he’d do anything to make sure she was safe, not direct her to someone else. So Scott was prodding a sensitive spot. “Don’t you dare say that! Either one of you could be the father. And Gavin’s not stupid. Unlike you, he cares about kids, even if they don’t belong to him.”
“That’s the thing!” Scott said. “You knew what he’s been through, how it’s made him sensitive to deprived children. That’s what gave you the idea, isn’t it? You didn’t come back to me because you cared about me. You were using me to get Gavin back. And you didn’t even think, or care, that if you did get pregnant with my child, and you managed to convince Gavin that it might be his, I’d be the one out in the cold.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, but her voice was too high and breathy to make that statement as convincing as she needed it to be.
His lip curled. “You’re pathetic. I hope you know that. And you should know something else. I’m going to do everything I can to screw this up for you. You won’t get Gavin. He’s going to figure out what you’re up to, because I’m going to make sure of it.”
“How nasty can you be? You don’t know anything! It would be cruel to even get involved.”
“You’re the one who involved me.”
She grabbed hold of his wrist. “Don’t you dare say anything to Gavin...”
A malevolent smile curved his lips. “Watch me call him right now. By the time I hang up, he won’t ever speak to you again.”
Panic sliced through her as he pulled out his phone. The way Gavin had been acting, she wasn’t nearly as certain of him as she wanted to be. She needed more time, couldn’t let Scott ruin her future. Gavin was the best man she’d ever known; she wasn’t going to lose him. “I won’t let you take him from me!” she screamed.
“You’re sick. Obsessed.” He shook his head in apparent disgust as he started pressing buttons.
Galvanized by the fear rising inside her, she grabbed his phone before he could finish dialing and threw it against the wall. It shattered upon impact, and he slapped her so hard her head whipped back and her ears rang. But that wasn’t enough. She saw the rage on his face, the fact that he’d pulled back to hit her again. She had to get out. She’d pushed him too far.
But he stood between her and the door...
Grabbing the closest lamp, she swung and hit him with it on the shoulder. She was hoping that would knock him down, give her enough time to get around him.
He didn’t even stumble. “You bitch!” he cried. “You’re dead now!”
She dropped the lamp and dashed for the door. But she didn’t make it, just as she knew she wouldn’t. He caught her by the hair and spun her around to face him, and the blow that came next rattled her teeth.
* * *
It was nearly nine by the time Gavin got home. He’d stayed extra late at the school, sorting through his desk, organizing his equipment, fixing a few things he’d been putting off in favor of more important repairs—essentially avoiding his personal life.
Fortunately, working late seemed to have done what he’d hoped it would. Heather’s Pathfinder wasn’t in his drive, and there wasn’t another note on his door from Savanna. He wasn’t so much excited about not hearing from his neighbor as he was relieved. He wanted to see her; he just knew he wouldn’t be able to resist her again. Last night had been difficult enough.
The ringtone for his phone went off, signaling an incoming call.
He ignored it, didn’t even check to see who it was. He planned to eat and then sit out on the porch with his guitar and work on perfecting the lyrics for the song he’d been writing the night Savanna came barreling past him in that moving van. He needed to reclaim a bit of normalcy, find calm, peace. And after he finished playing? He was going to get some rest.
He made it through dinner before whoever was trying to reach him called so many times he couldn’t help checking, with a measure of exasperation, to see who it was. He’d received five calls from Heather, which came as no surprise. She was as obsessive as ever. But the last call had been from Eli, and that was the one he returned. He couldn’t make himself call Heather, or even check her messages. He’d told her earlier that he wouldn’t be able to see her tonight, and he was determined to make her respect what she’d been told.
“What’s up?” he said when Eli answered.
“Just checking to see if you’re still at the school. Cora’s made that strawberry cheesecake dessert you like. We thought maybe you’d want to walk over.”
“Too late. I’m home now. Maybe you can save me some for tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” he joked. “When did you get home?”
“A few minutes ago.”
“Late night at work.”
“Had a few things to do.”
Eli laughed softly.
“What?” Gavin said.
“My poor little brother.”
“Stop it.”
“Fine. How’s the music coming along?”
Gavin set his dishes in the sink. “I have a gig in Santa Barbara tomorrow and Saturday. Same place as last week.”
“We haven’t been to one of your shows in a while. I’ll check with Cora, see if we’re free.”
“I’ll text you the address, if you’re serious.”
“Send it to me. Are you going to Mom’s a week from Sunday?”
As far as Gavin was concerned, that was a given. “I show up every time she cooks, don’t I? Why?”
“I invited Savanna and her kids over for a barbecue and swim party, so we’re starting a little earlier than usual.”
Gavin froze with his plate under the faucet. “You did what?”
“Mom wanted to welcome her to the area.”
“Bullshit!”
“It’s true!”
“No, it’s not. Quit playing dumb. You know I’m not in a situation to pursue a relationship with Savanna, so why are you sabotaging my efforts to do the right thing?”
“Lighten up, bro. It’s just a barbecue.”
“Sure it is.”
“Here’s the thing. It is if you want it to be,” he said, and hung up.
Gavin cursed as he stared down at his phone. Then, against all his plans and self-talk, he texted Savanna. How are you today?
Good. You? came her response.
He hadn’t been good since she moved in. He’d been torn. Should he ask to meet with her tonight? Tell her about Heather? If she knew about the baby, maybe she’d help him maintain some distance.
But he didn’t ask if he could come over. He wrote, Tired, instead.
I have some good leftovers. Is there any chance you’re hungry?
He was hungry, all right. Just not for food. And that was going to become more and more of a problem. Already ate.
Your brother came over and invited me to a barbecue a week from Sunday. I hope you won’t mind if we come.
Why would I mind?
I’m not sure. It just felt weird that he would invite me instead of you.
It was because his mother and brother were playing games. I would’ve invited you myself if I was home, he lied. I�
��ll give you a ride.
No, considering the situation, I should drive.
She was probably right. It would look much less like a date that way. Okay. At least I’ll get to see you there. God, he wanted to see her now. He scratched the back of his neck as he wrestled with himself—and ultimately won. Have a good night.
There was a long pause before she responded. But then she wrote, You, too.
With a curse, Gavin tossed his phone away from him. He finished his dishes, but he didn’t go out on the porch. He knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate. He’d wind up heading across the creek.
When he heard yet another buzz—a text from Heather—he refused to read it, silenced his phone and went to bed.
* * *
Savanna’s heart began to pound against her chest the moment she saw headlights shining through her front window. After that text she’d received from Dorothy, she’d been looking out the windows, checking for signs of trouble all day. She hadn’t heard from her ex-mother-in-law since, but she feared it was because Dorothy was finished talking and planned to act on her words.
So...was this her? Who else could it be? It was close to midnight. No one from Silver Springs would be coming out to visit her so late—except maybe Gavin, and he’d just walk over.
She stared down at her phone, wondering if she should call her neighbor. He’d told her she could. But she didn’t want to go running to him every time she had a problem, didn’t want to be a pain in the butt.
Her other choice was the police. But Dorothy hadn’t yet done anything for which she could complain, so that seemed like an extreme response.
She’d have to at least attempt to handle Dorothy herself...
After a quick check on her kids to make sure they were asleep, she closed Alia’s door, hoping the noise, if there was significant noise, wouldn’t wake her, and grabbed her son’s baseball bat before closing his. She was determined to defend herself and her children, if necessary.
Whoever it was knocked on the door as Savanna finished pulling on a jacket and shoes. She put the bat against the wall behind the door, so she wouldn’t appear ready for a fight, and peeked out. “What are you doing here?” she asked, feeling a little jolt of adrenaline when she saw Dorothy’s lined visage in the dim glow of the porch light.
“You and I need to talk,” she said.
Savanna wasn’t about to let her in the house. But she couldn’t grab the bat she’d put against the wall and take it outside with her, either. Doing something that aggressive, before it was even warranted, would only set Dorothy off and ensure this meeting went in that direction.
Still hoping to keep everything calm and civilized, Savanna stepped outside. “There’s nothing left to talk about.”
Dorothy hitched her heavy purse over her shoulder. “I’d like to do a lot more than talk, but you’re not worth going to jail for. So if you’ll give me a check, I’ll leave.”
“A check,” Savanna echoed.
“Gordon needs a few things—like a better defense. And you’ve got the money to provide it.”
Savanna pulled her jacket tighter. It wasn’t cold, and yet she was chilled to the bone. “I can’t take care of Gordon and the kids, too, Dorothy. Gordon’s going to have to fend for himself.”
“How? What can he do from behind bars? You got that big inheritance. He told me about it, and I’m not leaving until you give me some of that money. By rights, he should get half.”
Still hoping not to wake the kids, Savanna lowered her voice. “Gordon raped three women. Since he’s going to prison, he won’t be around to help support Branson and Alia. I consider his half of my inheritance child support—what he owes me for attacking those women and putting me in the position of having to raise our kids alone.”
Dorothy’s chin jutted out. “I keep telling you he didn’t do it. He’d be able to help you, be able to be a father, if you’d only help him beat these bogus charges!”
“Are you sure they’re bogus, Dorothy? Down deep in your heart, haven’t you ever asked yourself if it could be true?”
“No,” she snapped without even considering the question. “Unlike you, I love Gordon and have some loyalty to him. My son would never hurt anyone. He’s never hurt you or the kids, has he?”
Although Savanna hadn’t realized it at the time, he had hurt her and the kids—with his extreme narcissism. He’d taken advantage of her, used her to keep his house clean and care for his children while he was out doing God knows what. Essentially, he’d turned her into an emotional slave, someone who had to put up with his mercurial moods, someone who had to walk on eggshells for fear of setting him off, someone who couldn’t expect any forbearance or nurturing in return. It was his selfishness as much as the hard evidence that caused her to doubt him. “I don’t want to argue with you,” she said to Dorothy. “It’s late and I’m tired. I’m sorry you’ve made such a long drive, but I can’t give you any money.”
Dorothy folded her arms. “Then I’m not leaving. I’ll camp right on this damn porch, if I have to.”
Gordon’s mother hadn’t asked to see the kids, hadn’t so much as mentioned them. That made Savanna as heartsick as anything. But Branson and Alia didn’t need her. Indeed, they were better off without her, which was why Savanna almost went back inside for her purse. How much would it take to get rid of Dorothy? Savanna didn’t want Gordon’s mother hanging around, dragging all the negativity she’d had to deal with in Nephi to Silver Springs.
But Savanna knew she couldn’t part with the money that a top-notch defense team would require. When Gordon was first arrested, she’d given Howard Detmer a twenty-thousand-dollar retainer and gotten only half of it back when she let him go two weeks later. “The kind of defense Gordon requires could cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, far more than I have. Even if I hired Detmer back, I wouldn’t be able to keep him on for long. He’d run through what little I have in no time, and then how would I get by? How would I feed the kids?”
“Maybe you’d have to work, like I do!”
That statement kindled sufficient anger to help Savanna overcome the intimidation she’d always experienced around Dorothy, who was, like her son, so much more volatile than other people. “I’ve always worked, and I will do so again. But I’m not footing the bill for Gordon’s defense. Throwing a big chunk of money at some fancy lawyer won’t make any difference in the end, especially now that the police think Gordon is guilty of far more.”
Dorothy had opened her mouth to continue arguing, but at this she hesitated. “What are you talking about?”
“Emma Ventnor. That’s what I’m talking about. And who knows how many others.”
Dorothy stumbled back, until she could help support herself with the porch railing. “Who’s Emma?”
“She was a beautiful sixteen-year-old girl who went missing a year ago. Someone wrecked into her car right in the middle of a rainy afternoon. When she pulled over to exchange insurance information, she was kidnapped and hasn’t been seen since.”
Savanna expected Dorothy to respond with the usual heated denials. Her son could never have hurt anyone. He’s innocent. The police are out to frame him just to put someone behind bars and escape the public scrutiny and pressure associated with not having a proper suspect. But those denials didn’t come. Neither did the questions Savanna would’ve expected—first and foremost, why would the police think Gordon had something to do with this girl’s disappearance? They had to have some evidence or reason to believe he might be responsible, but Dorothy didn’t so much as ask where Emma was from.
“What is it?” Savanna asked. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Nothing. It’s...nothing. I’m tired, that’s all,” she said, but she didn’t stick around as she’d threatened to do. Without another word, she rushed back to her car, climbed in and drove off—so fast th
at Savanna nearly yelled to watch out for the bridge. Although the bridge was sturdy, it was still temporary and would be easy to miss in the dark. But yelling would be futile. Dorothy would never be able to hear her.
Once Savanna felt certain her ex-mother-in-law had cleared the creek, she started to relax, but even then she was confused. Her encounter with Dorothy had been so strange. Dorothy had driven all day in order to reach Silver Springs, had come because she was determined to get what she felt Gordon needed and deserved. Instead of standing her ground, however, she’d given up without a fight. That wasn’t like her. Something had changed her mind.
Savanna didn’t get much time to puzzle out what that could be, however. Only seconds later, just before she went inside, she heard a loud boom.
18
The crash that reverberated through Gavin’s house made him think someone had driven into his living room. Jolted awake, he pushed himself up and out of bed and hurried down the hall to find out what the heck was going on. Fortunately, the house seemed to be intact. But as soon as he opened the front door, he saw a white car, which had smashed into the back of his pickup, reverse before racing off with its front bumper dragging.
Throwing the door open wide, he dashed out, hoping to stop whomever it was. But the culprit raced down the gravel road, indifferent to all the bumps and potholes, and swerved onto the highway without so much as pausing to look for oncoming traffic.
Gavin thought he caught the first three digits of the license plate number, but he wasn’t sure they were correct. Not only were there no streetlights where he lived, it was a very dark night and the cloud of dust churned up by the tires made such details hard to see. Besides, it’d happened so fast.
“What the hell!” he muttered as he walked over to inspect the damage.
Fortunately, his truck had been hit in the rear, which was preferable to the engine. The impact had pressed the back right panel into the tire, which would rub when the axle turned, but it looked as though he might be able to pull the metal back far enough to make the vehicle drivable until he could get it repaired. That was the good news. But why was that crazy person on his street to begin with? Especially so late at night?