Coming to, Savannah shook her head. “Not home.” After being subjected to this, she’d only climb the walls if she was alone. Suddenly aware that she was still holding Sam’s hand, Savannah released it. “You said you wanted to stop at your apartment and then go to the office. Take me with you.”
It seemed somehow callous to turn her down.
“Okay.” Sam saw the divers coming out of the lake. “Let’s wrap this up.”
Ben put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and shook his head. “My divers. I get to say when they wrap it up.” Then, with a flicker of a grin, he called over to his men. “Wrap it up, boys.” It was then that Eliza turned from the lake and came over to join them. “Ms. Eldridge, I’m happy to say that this time, you’re wrong.”
“Not as happy as I am, Detective. Not nearly as happy as I am.” She shifted her deep blue eyes to Savannah and placed her hand over hers. “I’m so sorry to have put you through this. But the dream was very vivid. If there was any chance...”
Savannah nodded. The woman had been sincere in her call. She didn’t blame her.
“I understand.”
“I’ll keep a good thought,” Eliza called after her, as Sam ushered Savannah away to his car.
They were going to need a lot more than just good thoughts, Sam thought. And soon.
Chapter 9
Savannah felt dazed as she got into Sam’s car. Dazed and numb.
The numbness melted in the heat of a dozen emotions that pushed their way forward, crowding her mind, her soul. She felt like laughing and crying at the same time.
Aimee wasn’t at the bottom of the lake.
There was still hope.
But where was she?
Frustration began to gnaw away at the relief. Needing something to fill the air, she leaned forward and turned up the music in the car.
“You can change it if you like,” Sam told her. He liked the oldies, songs from two and three decades ago, but he knew that not everyone was partial to them. His brothers thought he was crazy to find anything that came before the current decade even mildly entertaining.
Savannah shook her head at the offer. “No, I like this kind of music.”
Sam glanced toward her as he took a right. The lady was trying very hard to be strong, but even steel cracked under certain conditions. If he made a left at the next light, he could still drive by her house without going that much out of his way.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?”
“No.” She had to be out, doing something. Staying in the house and listening to the telephone ring would make her crazy.
He could understand her not wanting to be alone right now. “Or to your parents’ house?”
She laughed shortly. Her parents both felt terrible about this, but they hadn’t a single clue how to react to her She didn’t need to feel awkward on top of everything else. She needed to feel useful.
She needed, she thought, to be with Sam.
“A definite no.” Savannah looked at him. Was he thinking of telling her that she couldn’t come along after all? “I told you, I’m willing to pay you more if—”
For all intents and purposes, he was in her employ, but it irked him to have his position in her life reduced to dollars and cents.
“And I said it wasn’t a matter of money.” He realized he’d bitten that off a little more tersely than he’d intended. He supposed he was feeling edgy, too. Despite what he’d said to Savannah, a part of him had believed—had been afraid—that they would find Aimee’s body at the bottom of the lake. “Right now, it’s a matter of not having a possible hysterical woman on my hands.”
The defensiveness she felt was way out of proportion, and she knew it, even as she demanded, “Have I gotten hysterical yet?”
He spared her a long look before answering. “No, not yet.”
That sounded as if he was counting the minutes until it happened. “And I won’t.” It was a solemn promise she made to herself as well as to him.
“I’m only thinking of you.”
He didn’t want her subjected to any more of this than she had to be. If he could have found a way, he would have spared her the last four hours. For that matter, he would have fielded the phone call from Eliza if he’d been able.
“Well, don’t. Just think of Aimee. I can take care of myself.” Her angry words crowded out the music coming from the radio.
Savannah stared out the window. Her conscience caught up to her before they reached the next light. She wasn’t accustomed to having someone care about how she felt. Wasn’t accustomed, she realized, to a man like Sam. Able, considerate, and dangerously attractive, Sam Walters was like no one else she’d ever met. If her emotions weren’t tied up in little knots, she would have acknowledged the fact a lot sooner. He didn’t deserve the way she’d just treated him.
Savannah blew out a long breath. Her cheeks still flushed. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to jump all over you.”
She thought she detected a glimmer of a smile on his lips, but Sam kept his face forward.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve put up with a hell of a lot worse than what you just said to me. If it makes you feel any better and you want to blow off some steam, you go right ahead. Yell at me.”
“No, I’m done.” Savannah folded her hands in her lap. “I’ll be good.”
She would be, too, he thought, his mind straying again.
He’d better hurry up to that cold shower, Sam counseled himself. Otherwise, he was liable to be in a whole lot of trouble.
The sudden, shrill ringing coming from her purse had Savannah jumping a good inch off her seat, despite the seat belt that restrained her. Her response almost made him swerve into the next lane. He righted the wheel in time to avoid hitting a blue sedan.
He’d had about all the excitement he wanted to endure for one day, and it wasn’t much past noon yet. Sam spared her as long a look as he dared. “You okay?”
Chagrined, Savannah shrugged vaguely as she dug through her purse.
“I forgot I still had my cell phone with me.”
She found it and she flipped it open. It amazed her that the battery was still working. She’d forgotten all about recharging it last night. She used it predominantly to keep in touch with her office, and to be available to the baby-sitter she employed to stay with Aimee when she had to work outside the house.
She had no idea who would be calling her now.
“Hello?”
“How are you holding up, Savannah?”
Savannah felt some of the tension leave her body as the familiar voice registered. Elliott. She should have known.
“As well as can be expected, Elliott. Thanks for asking.”
“Hey, what are friends for? I called your house this morning, but you were gone. I was worried about you,” he explained.
The more she thought about it, the more Elliott seemed like the big brother she never had. Her parents hadn’t even called to see how she was this morning. They were undoubtedly afraid that she would tell them, and then they wouldn’t know what to say.
“I’m fine, Elliott. We—” Unable to continue for a moment, Savannah licked her bottom lip, looking for words to describe what she’d just been through.
The small, almost undetectable movement of her tongue along her lips caught Sam’s eye. And his imagination. He tried not to let it distract him, but it took effort. A lot of effort.
Sam forced his mind back to the conversation, at least what he could glean from her end of it. It seemed odd to Sam that a married man would pay this much attention to a woman, and not have some ulterior motive.
Not simon-pure like you, huh, Sam? he mocked himself silently.
Savannah tried again. “We got a call early this morning from a clairvoyant.”
“We?”
“Sam—the man I hired to find Aimee,” she explained, “and I. The woman dreamed that Aimee’d drowned. That her body was at the bottom of a lake.”
“No!” The single word, drenched in anguish, rang in her ear. And then, there was nothing. She thought that she had lost the connection.
“Elliott, are you still there?”
“Don’t let those cranks make you believe that, Savannah,” Elliott said finally. “Aimee’s not dead.”
She appreciated the strength she heard in his voice, and appreciated that he believed so strongly that her daughter was alive. It helped her hang on to her own belief.
“It’s all right,” Savannah told him. For a moment, she felt as if she were comforting him, as if he were the one whose daughter was in jeopardy. Because he loved his own daughter so much, he was probably identifying with what she was going through. “Sam and Detective Underwood had divers check out the area that the psychic saw in her dream. They didn’t find Aimee.”
“Of course they didn’t. She’s not at the bottom of some lake. She’s alive. I know she is.”
He was angry for her, Savannah thought. His friendship meant a great deal to her.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you?” Elliott asked again.
“No, really.” Savannah realized that she was shaking inside, and tried to compose herself. She ran her hand over her eyes. “Oh Elliott, if there was just some way I could know that she was still alive. I close my eyes, wishing for a sign, something. This not knowing—it’s hell.”
“I know. I really, really wish you didn’t have to go through this, Savannah. I want you to know that. I only wish...” His voice trailed off, and she was touched by the emotion she heard in it.
“I know.” She could guess what he was wishing. The same thing she was: that Aimee was back. “Thank you. Elliott, I’m going to hang up now. I know this sounds silly, but I want to keep all lines clear—”
“Sure, sure. I understand. Just hang in there. I know she’s all right. Everyone here is so concerned that I’ve got you on speakerphone so you won’t have to repeat this story. And they send their love.” As if on cue, Savannah heard several other voices chime in, reinforcing Elliott’s sentiments. “Take care, Savannah. I’ll call again soon ”
“’Bye.” She heard a chorus of goodbyes in response. Savannah closed the case and then pressed it against her lips, thinking. “I wish I was.”
“You wish you were ..what?” The call had generated more than one question in Sam’s head.
For a moment, she’d almost forgotten that she wasn’t alone in the car. Savannah dropped the cell phone into her purse. “Elliott said he knew she was alive. I only wish I was as convinced as he was.”
Could be just a good friend being supportive, Sam thought.
But she wasn’t paying him to rubber-stamp her impressions. She was paying him to investigate, to probe. That meant shaking every tree he came in contact with.
“How long have you known Elliott?”
“Six years.” Didn’t he remember that? “I already told you—”
Savannah turned to look at him. Suddenly, she realized where he was going with his questions. She refused to allow Sam to take her there. Her world had been cracked open; she couldn’t let him siphon away all the trust as well. She needed to believe in someone, in at least one friend.
“Oh, no, not Elliott. You can’t take that away from me. You can’t make me not trust him, too.” If she became suspicious of her friends, paranoia would be waiting in the wings to embrace her. “That won’t leave me anyone—except for my parents and sister.”
“And me,” he pointed out.
“And you,” she echoed. “But that goes without saying.”
Yeah, he thought, it did. A lot of things went without saying. And maybe, in the long run, it was better that way. For both of them.
“I’m not trying to get you not to trust him. I’m just trying to get a clearer picture.”
“Of Elliott?”
Since she was sensitive about the subject, he replied tactfully, “Of everyone. I just find it a little unusual for a married man to take such an interest in a single woman.”
“I told you, we’re friends. Our daughters are friends.” She paused, debating, then added, “And sometimes he cries on my shoulder.”
“How wet are the tears?”
“It’s not what you think.” She felt herself growing defensive. Sam probably thought Elliott was one of those men who used the old my-wife-doesn’t-understand-me line. “He asks my advice about his wife. Sometimes he feels that there’s no pleasing her—and he really wants to,” she emphasized. “Look, I don’t know about the kind of men in your world, but Elliott’s not like that.”
“Okay, you’ve convinced me.”
He didn’t look convinced. “What does this have to do with Aimee’s disappearance?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe nothing. Probably nothing,” he amended. “But I won’t know until I figure out what does.”
“Can you make it any clearer than that?”
He only wished he could. Sam shook his head. “Not at the moment.”
“Who are all these people?”
Savannah’s question floated back to Sam from his cluttered living room. Barefoot and shutless, Sam came out of his equally cluttered bedroom to see.
He grinned when he saw where she was standing. Just off the living room, in a space that was more of an indentation than an alcove and that laughingly served as his home office, was a wall that was covered with framed photographs of varying sizes and shapes
“That’s my rogue’s gallery.” He saw her raise an eyebrow. “Those are my nephews and my niece.”
He was standing very close to her. Close enough for Savannah to feel the heat emanating from his body. Or was that hers? The woman on the radio had predicted record-breaking temperatures today, and it felt to Savannah as if Sam’s apartment had a head start.
Savannah forced herself to turn away and looked at the display on his wall. Across the top were photographs of five boys ranging from about two to fifteen. A single girl was placed between them. They were all smiling. Two of the boys had grins like Sam’s, she realized.
“Somehow, I can’t picture you with a family.”
That made two of them, he thought “Technically, it’s not mine,” he reminded her. “It’s borrowed. They belong to my brothers and sister.” A warmth entered his voice, the way it always did when he talked about his extended family. “I have to put them back after I finish playing with them.”
Savannah turned to look at him. “Do you?”
The moment hung between them. He knew he wanted to kiss her again. Knew he couldn’t. To keep from pulling her into his arms, he shoved his hands into his back pockets. “Do I what?”
“Play with them?” With no effort. at all, she could visualize him on the floor, playing with the smallest ones. Teasing his niece. Palling around with his oldest nephew. It was funny how she could sense that about him, despite his rough and tough exterior.
“Figure of speech,” he brushed off. And then a grin came to call him a liar. “Yeah, I do. They tell me I play make-believe better than their parents.” He tried not to make that sound like he was bragging, but a note of pride betrayed him. “Probably has something to do with my job. I have to be inventive on the spur of the moment. Kids like that.”
And they could also sense when someone was being genuine with them. She’d learned that quickly enough on her own. Children had a wonderful ability to see right into your heart.
“So why don’t you have any kids of your own?” she wanted to know. “You obviously like them.”
“Yes, I like them. I think kids are great.” They had an innocence that he held in awe. Even Richie, who was going on fifteen and thought he was so cool, was still innocent when it came to the darker side of the world. “But I don’t have any kids for the same reason I don’t have a wife. Because they wouldn’t fit into this kind of a life.”
What was he doing, he thought, standing here halfnaked, having this conversation with a woman who could easily get under his skin if he let her? Sam began to walk a
way.
“How do you know until you try—or did you?”
Her question pulled him back. He turned around again. “No, I didn’t. But my father did. Seemed to me like every big occasion that came up, he was missing. On the job. I wondered about it as a kid. Thought maybe it had something to do with me. After a while, I accepted it.” Or made peace with it as best he could, Sam thought. He never really stopped wishing his father was there. It was what had led him to his decision. “I don’t want to be that kind of a father to my kids. A father who’s not there for the important moments in their lives.
“But I love doing what I’m doing, so...” His voice trailed off, leaving Savannah to draw the obvious conclusion.
She surprised him by asking, “Did you love your father?”
Yeah, he loved him. That was why it hurt so much when he wasn’t there. Sam shrugged casually. “Sure.”
Savannah tried not to notice the way the muscles in his chest rippled when he moved his shoulders like that. “And he loved you.”
Memories crowded in, tiny precious gems winking in and out of his brain. “Yeah, he loved me.” There was no question in his mind.
“I’d think that would be all that mattered,” she said. “That he loved you. If he got that message across, then he was a good father. You’d probably be a good one, too,” she finished, resting her case. It wasn’t much of a leap. More of a skip, she thought.
“Oh?” He couldn’t help the amusement that came into his voice. She was turning the tables on him. He was the one who was supposed to make rapid assessments, not her. “And what makes you think that?”
“I heard you with your nephew the other day when he called about his birthday party, remember? You could have brushed him off.” A lot of other men would have. Her father had always made her feel that she took a back seat to his work as well as to his friends.
There was no point debating a hypothetical point. He’d made up his mind about the path his life would take a long time ago. It was mapped out, and there was no reason to have that map redrafted.
He looked down at her face and felt something stirring again. Something that, if he were being honest with himself, really hadn’t stopped stirring since he’d kissed her last night. Maybe even before then.
A Hero for All Seasons Page 11