Right Where We Belong

by Brenda Novak

  “You told me Gavin’s truck is blue, didn’t you?”

  “It is...”

  “Well, when I magnify the close-up you took of the damage on Dorothy’s car, I think I see a few tiny bits of white.”

  “Emma’s car was white.”

  “Yes.”

  “So...you think you see that or you do?”

  “There’s no way to be certain. But the fact that it could be there, and you say the car was damaged about the time Emma went missing, might be enough to make an impact on the judge.”

  “Who will, hopefully, sign off on the search warrant.”

  “Yes.”

  “But I took those pictures in Dorothy’s garage. Wouldn’t they be considered illegally obtained, too?”

  “You said the garage door was open. That means anyone could go in there. But just to be sure, we’ll handle it a different way. I know where Dorothy works. I’ll go over there and take pictures of the car myself. With any luck, we could be searching her house tomorrow.”

  “That means I can leave.”

  “Yes, get out of there while you can,” he said, but just before Savanna disconnected and started for the stairs, she heard movement coming from upstairs.

  “Oh, my God. She’s back,” she whispered, and disconnected.

  * * *

  Gavin was eating in his office. Although he still battled a certain amount of guilt for not getting back with Heather whenever he thought about the baby, he was so much happier after making the decision to pursue a relationship with Savanna. Since he’d started seeing her, he’d been joining his mother and brother in the cafeteria for lunch with the students, as usual, but he was too stressed to interact with anyone else today. He was waiting for Savanna to let him know she’d gotten out of Dorothy’s house and was on her way to the airport, and couldn’t understand why he hadn’t heard from her. Was she still on the phone with Sullivan?

  He hesitated to keep calling and texting her, just in case. It’d been thirty minutes; they had to be deeply embroiled. But he needed to hear from her.

  A knock sounded at the door, interrupting his vigil.

  Setting his phone aside, he got up to answer it.

  Aiyana stood there, dressed in a colorful skirt and purple blouse, her black hair hanging straight and long instead of in its characteristic braid. “You’re not having lunch with us?” she asked.

  “Not today.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Of course,” he replied, but she gave him that look that let him know she wasn’t buying it, and he sighed.

  “I’m concerned about Savanna.”

  “Why would you be concerned? You told me she flew to Utah for a couple of days to deal with some business regarding her ex-husband. Don’t tell me he’s abusive or something else that would put her in danger...”

  He stretched his neck to ease the tension knotting his muscles. “It’s...complicated.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “What’s going on?”

  Gavin knew, considering what his relationship with Savanna had become, that he could tell his family about Gordon. It wasn’t as if Savanna expected that to remain a secret indefinitely. He just hadn’t done it yet. They’d both been too focused on getting through her trip to Utah. “Are you sure you have time for such a long story?”

  “I’ll make time,” she replied.

  He beckoned her inside. “Then have a seat.”

  * * *

  Savanna hadn’t closed the door to the basement. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to do that, not with how difficult it’d been to open in the first place. She was afraid she’d get stuck down there, hadn’t wanted to feel as though she was cutting herself off from her only avenue of retreat. But the instant Dorothy saw that door hanging wide at the top of the stairs, she’d know something was up. It’d been closed tighter than a drum when Savanna arrived. Not to mention the light was on.

  Savanna covered her mouth as she listened to the footfalls above her. The window in Dorothy’s bedroom could also give her away. It was open wider than it had been before, and the screen was bent back. Good thing she’d taken the time to leave everything else as it had been. Otherwise, she’d have no hope of going undiscovered.

  Why wasn’t Dorothy at work? Had she gotten sick? Was she home for the day? Or had she just returned to get something she’d forgotten—or maybe lunch?

  Regardless, the entrance to the basement was too centrally located for her to miss that giveaway door. Chances were she would’ve seen it already, except her phone had gone off almost as soon as she arrived at the house. Savanna could hear her talking from what sounded like the living room.

  As soon as she came through to the kitchen, it would all be over...

  Although her first inclination was to hide, Savanna forced herself to climb the noisy stairs. She could only rely on that phone conversation to keep Dorothy preoccupied. Savanna had to get to that door, had to close it, or who could say what would happen. At a minimum, the backpack evidence would be spoiled. Dorothy would try to get rid of it, and without Emma’s schoolwork, Gordon would very likely go free. Savanna had little confidence in the “bits of white” Sullivan claimed to see in the Celica pictures, since she hadn’t seen any of that herself. She had a feeling he was stretching the truth in order to get a search warrant.

  “I told you, I have nothing to say to you...No, you need to leave me alone...That’s ridiculous! You can’t force me to testify against my own son!”

  Dorothy was talking to Sullivan, Savanna realized. As soon as they’d hung up, he’d called Dorothy, was purposely hassling her in an attempt to create a diversion.

  Savanna quickly weighed the chances of sneaking out the back. Would she make it?

  She didn’t see much hope. The house was too small. Dorothy would hear her or see her, especially if she had any trouble with the lock on the back door. And she could tell the conversation wasn’t going to last but a few more seconds. Dorothy was adamant about not talking to the police. All Savanna could do was remain in the basement, pull the door closed, turn off the light and pray Dorothy wasn’t home for the day. Otherwise, Savanna would have quite a wait before she could get out of the house.

  The door didn’t want to close all the way, not without a great deal of pressure, and Savanna didn’t dare pull it that hard.

  She closed it as well as she could without making a lot of noise and waited.

  Sure enough, Dorothy hung up almost immediately. “Bastard,” she muttered as she came into the kitchen.

  Since Dorothy was right on the other side of the basement door, Savanna could hear her rummaging around in the drawers and cupboards and possibly the fridge.

  “You won’t get anything out of me,” Dorothy added as if she was still talking to Sullivan.

  Taking measured breaths to control her fear, Savanna clung to the knob of the basement door, in case Dorothy spotted that irregularity and tried to open it. Holding it wouldn’t keep her from being discovered, but it might save her from being shoved down the stairs. She wasn’t in the best position to protect herself should Dorothy get physical.

  Don’t look this way. Finish what you’re doing and go.

  Dorothy’s phone rang again. “You can’t harass me like this,” she told the caller, which made Savanna guess that it was, once again, Sullivan, trying to help.

  “No, I won’t meet you for coffee...What? I’ve never shoplifted in my life! I don’t care what you’ve got on video. That has to be someone else.”

  There was a long pause while she was, presumably, listening to Sullivan make a case for meeting him.

  “I’m telling you that wasn’t me.”

  They argued a bit more. Finally, Sullivan must’ve prevailed, because after she hung up, Dorothy swore a blue streak and went out the front.


  Savanna listened carefully to see if Dorothy might return. She couldn’t hear any evidence of that, but she forced herself to wait five minutes before charging out of the basement. To close the door tightly behind her, she had to use her shoulder like a battering ram, but as soon as she accomplished that, she let herself out the back, retrieved the duct tape from the garage and fixed the screen on Dorothy’s bedroom window so that the damage could not be seen from inside the house.

  Once she finally reached her rental car, she sent a text to Sullivan. Thank you. I’m out.

  Great. I’ll let Dorothy know that it won’t be necessary for her to drive down to meet me, after all.

  Savanna couldn’t help chuckling at what he’d written. You told her you had her on video, shoplifting?

  Yeah. But now that I’ve taken a closer look, I can see it isn’t her. :)

  * * *

  “She’s okay?” Aiyana asked.

  Gavin glanced up from the text that had interrupted their conversation. “Yes. Thank God. She’s on her way to the airport.”

  “What took her so long to let you know?”

  “She hasn’t said.” What happened? he wrote to Savanna.

  I’ll have to tell you when I get home. I’d rather not do it over the phone.

  Is everything okay?

  With any luck, everything will be better than okay. I’ll let you know what time to pick me up as soon as I make the arrangements for my new flight. I can’t wait to see you. XOXO

  I’ll be waiting.

  He drew a deep breath as he set his phone aside. “Sounds like whatever happened was good,” he told his mother.

  * * *

  It took Sullivan until Friday to get the search warrant. Waiting for that to come through, and waiting for what the search of Dorothy’s house would reveal, made Savanna almost as nervous as when she’d been snooping around that house herself—and nearly been caught. She kept thinking that maybe Dorothy had realized someone had been in her house, that she’d seen the tape on the screen and disposed of Emma’s backpack, so they’d wind up with nothing to tie Gordon to Emma’s disappearance, after all.

  But that didn’t turn out to be the case. When Gavin was at work, and Branson and Alia were playing in the kiddie pool they liked so much, Savanna received the call from Sullivan that she’d been waiting for.

  She answered on the first ring. “Tell me you found what you needed.”

  “We have the backpack,” he said.

  “What about... What about any remains?”

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  That last part wasn’t good news, but Savanna’s relief was still so profound it almost robbed her of strength. She’d been thrown into what felt like an alternate reality ever since Gordon had first become a suspect in those rape cases. It’d been only a few months, but it seemed like years. So much had changed. And now the worst was over. Gordon wouldn’t be able to hurt her or anyone else again. His lawyer, the public defender in whom he placed so little trust, would have a hard time explaining how Emma Ventnor’s backpack wound up in Dorothy Gray’s basement. So even if the backpack didn’t contain any DNA evidence—which, of course, they hoped it did—Gordon would be charged with Emma’s abduction if not her murder. “He won’t be able to get past this,” she said.

  “No,” Sullivan confirmed. “Detective March stayed up all night viewing the same video footage she’d been over before, when she was looking for the wrong vehicle. This time, she found two different shots of Dorothy’s car—before it was damaged on the front. Between the backpack, Gordon’s lack of an alibi, proof of an accident and his proximity to where Emma was taken, we’ll have a good case.”

  “What about the white paint on the Celica? Will that help?”

  “If it’s there. We’ll get everything we can, make sure he goes away for a long, long time. But the backpack is insurmountable. From the beginning, he’s claimed that he’s never seen Emma Ventnor before in his life, never heard of her except on the news. This proves otherwise. And now that we could charge his mother with obstruction of justice for wrecking into Gavin’s truck to cover up the previous damage on her vehicle, and hiding Emma’s backpack in her basement, we might finally get some cooperation from her. Depending on what she knows, it’s even possible we’ll recover Emma’s body.”

  “Then you believe Emma’s dead.”

  “Don’t you?”

  Savanna hated to admit it, but where else could the girl be?

  “At least, because of you, Gordon won’t be able to hurt anyone else,” he said.

  It was the first time Sullivan had ever attempted to make her feel better about anything. “Whoa! Are you trying to console me?”

  There was a brief silence. Then he said, “I owe you an apology, Savanna. You’re not the type of woman I thought you were in the beginning. I didn’t treat you right.”

  “I understand why. Cops can get a bit jaded, I guess.”

  “Sadly, that’s true. I still feel bad, but...I can’t believe you were ever married to a man like Gordon.”

  She backed up so the kids wouldn’t get her wet with all their splashing and running with the hose. “I almost can’t believe it myself. I’m glad that’s no longer the case. I’m much happier now.”

  “I hope you stay that way.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and disconnected so that she could call and give Gavin the good news.

  Epilogue

  Eight months later...

  Gavin had his hand at the small of Savanna’s back as the hostess guided them through Costantini’s, the nicest restaurant in Silver Springs. They’d left Branson and Alia with Aiyana so that they could have a night out together, and he’d made reservations for the outdoor patio, with its bubbling fountain and myriad blooming plants.

  “I love this place,” Savanna murmured.

  “I know. That’s why we’re here,” he teased. It was also the perfect place to celebrate all the wonderful things that’d happened. Last week, a hiker had found Emma Ventnor’s remains in a gulley, covered with brush, only twenty minutes outside of Nephi. Now that the police could prove Emma was dead, Gordon would be charged with first-degree murder in addition to kidnapping, and probably be sentenced to life. After months and months of preparation, his trial was coming up soon. But Savanna wouldn’t be required to testify. She was glad for that and glad they hadn’t heard from him or his mother since her visit. Gordon hadn’t even written to the kids.

  “Considering all this, you must have something to tell me,” Savanna said after they were seated and the waitress had delivered their water.

  “I do,” he admitted.

  Although it was subtle, he could see the slight tensing that resulted from his announcement. “Does it have to do with Heather’s baby?”

  “It does.” Now that Heather’s baby had been born, they’d been waiting for the results of the paternity test.

  She reached out to grab his hand as if she needed it for support. “Tell me.”

  “Little Bella Marie belongs to Scott.”

  Her jaw dropped as she let go of him to press her hand to her chest. “You’re kidding...”

  “No. It was conclusive.”

  She briefly closed her eyes. “I would’ve done everything I could to support you in that relationship. I hope you know that. But I’m not going to lie. This will be easier.”

  He laughed. “It’ll be easier for me, too. Heather was so bitter throughout the pregnancy.”

  “She must feel like a fool now, poor thing.”

  “If she did what Scott emphatically claims, she got herself into what she’s facing and doesn’t deserve any sympathy.”

  “What do you think?” she asked. “Did Heather try to get pregnant?”

  “I’d hate to believe she did. But I have to ackno
wledge the possibility. I’m just glad it didn’t work, that my heart wouldn’t let me take that wrong turn.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “But I worry for the baby. Scott’s still so angry. I don’t see him being much of a father.”

  “Frankly, I don’t, either. I feel bad about that, too. But I’m hoping little Bella will steal his heart.”

  “Children have a tendency to do that,” she said.

  “Your children have stolen my heart, haven’t they?”

  “You’ve also stolen theirs,” she said with a laugh. “They worship you. So...are we going to sell our houses and move to Nashville?”

  “You’d be willing?”

  “Of course. You’re so gifted. If moving to Nashville is what it takes, I say we pack up tonight.”

  He brought her hand to his mouth so he could kiss the back of it. “But it’s so nice here. Your house is looking awesome, thanks to me,” he added with a grin. “The kids are in school and happy—I can’t remember the last time Branson wet the bed. Everyone is doing so well.”

  “We’ll do well in Nashville, too,” she insisted. “You and your aspirations are important. You deserve to have what you want.”

  He smiled at her.

  “What?” she said.

  “I want to stay. As far as I’m concerned, we’re right where we belong.”

  Her eyes widened. “What about your music career?”

  “I’ll do what I can with it from here, see where it goes. But I’m not one of those people who has to achieve success in the entertainment industry at all costs. I’m happy in a bone-deep way. Especially now that I have you and the kids. How many people can say that?”

  “Not many,” she agreed thoughtfully.

  “There’s just one more thing I really need...”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  He pulled out the engagement ring he’d been carrying around in his pocket all day and got down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from UNTIL YOU LOVED ME by Brenda Novak.

  “Brenda Novak doesn’t just write fabulous stories, she writes keepers.”