Читать книгу Colton First Responder - Linda O. Johnston - Страница 13

Savannah lowered the scissors as she watched Grayson get water from the refrigerator, then sit down. He placed the bottle in front of him beside his large flashlight.

What should she do? What could she do? She hoped he was telling the truth, that even as a first responder he wasn’t here to arrest her again, or call those in authority at the police station who’d bring her in. But even if he lied, she wasn’t really going to stab him. The best she could do would be to run out the door when he wasn’t looking, then continue running—in the near darkness. But where?

For now she would just remain alert and wary and hold a conversation. If he’d been telling the truth before, maybe it would be okay to talk with him.

But even then, when he was ready to go—well, would she be able to trust him not to turn her in, no matter what he said?

She would just have to see how things went.

Not that she could control them anyway. At least not entirely.

“So tell me what happened,” Grayson said as she sat down facing him, gently placing the scissors on the table before her but within reach. “Tell me how the van was struck and how you got out of it. I assume you’re aware the driver was killed.”

Savannah nodded solemnly. “Yes. His name was Ari. I... I didn’t know him well, but I did check on him when I finally got out of the van and...and...well, I’m not an expert like a first responder, but I tried to help him and didn’t see any sign of life.” She felt herself tear up. Well, she truly was sad about the situation.

Grayson. She had seen him at parties and social events now and then. They were from similar backgrounds, since their families were both among the Mustang Valley elite. She had enjoyed those kinds of festivities, even after she married Zane.

But Savannah hadn’t paid much attention to Grayson—except to notice his good looks. His body tall and slim, yet muscular, beneath the high-end clothing he generally wore at parties, his well-styled dark brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes. He wore his current outfit well, too—a long-sleeved black T-shirt with a neon emergency vest over it. His stubble was trimmed short and added to his sexiness. Of course, she hadn’t been interested in how attractive a man he might have been when she believed she had most recently seen him, although she couldn’t recall exactly when it had been. But she believed now that she had still been married, and though her marriage was ending she certainly wasn’t interested in flirting with someone else. And with Grayson—well, she had gotten the impression he wasn’t thrilled about being at most of those parties, that his family had twisted his arm to come. She knew he wasn’t part of the family business, Colton Oil.

“I assume you found Ari’s... Ari,” she continued, choosing not to use the term “body.”

He nodded. “I wasn’t able to get a response, though, and neither did the EMTs that Mustang Valley General Hospital sent after my 911 call.”

“I’m sorry,” Savannah said.

“You were in the back of his van, right? Was he moving you from the state prison somewhere?”

She felt her eyes grow huge as she reached slowly for her bottle of water and stared at it—but she shouldn’t have been surprised at Grayson’s spot-on guess. She’d been in the news, as much as she hated that. As much as she hated all of this.

“Yes,” she said quietly. That was close enough. Ari had been moving her from court back to prison, but she didn’t choose to elaborate.

“So you were able to escape unharmed,” Grayson stated. He took a swig from his bottle, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “That’s a good thing, especially since you already told me you didn’t kill your husband. And I assume that’s the truth.”

“It is.” She kept her voice low but wanted to scream it out—the truth. Instead, she glanced toward the door. Should she run now?

Would Grayson grab her?

But when she looked back toward him, he hadn’t moved. He was watching her, though, with an expression on that handsome face of his that suggested amusement.

Amusement? When her entire life had been turned upside down, and he now was in a position to possibly ruin her tiny, precarious opportunity for freedom that resulted from an unpredicted earthquake?

“Got it,” he said. “Now, want to tell me about it?”

Grayson was used to finding people in difficult positions and not only helping them physically but mentally, too. To doing all he could to assure their survival in all ways.

This beautiful woman he had met several times before appeared totally fragile now—and frightened. Of him.

Which he understood. But he didn’t like it. And he wanted to help her in all ways.

And there was something he’d recalled about her, how well she had treated someone at one of the parties they’d both attended, that told him she was the kind of person who helped people, too—and didn’t kill them. In fact, she had helped to save the life of a woman who had just been extremely nasty to her.

“I really don’t like talking about the situation with Zane,” she said now. “And there’s really not much to tell. What’s out there is all lies.”

Well, she could be lying, too, of course. But he wanted to hear her side of it, since the media often liked to take things out of context and exaggerate them, even stress the nastiest facts—anything for a good story, although they also did base it on truth most of the time. Or so he believed.

So even though Grayson could in fact bring Savannah back to the appropriate authorities, no matter what he’d told her, or could just leave her here to do whatever she wanted, he still would rather hear her side of the story before deciding.

“Convince me,” he said with a smile he hoped she would interpret as friendly.

For now, at least, it was.

“Okay. Let’s start with the fact I don’t believe Zane is dead.”

That startled him a bit. With all the news and hype, he’d considered that a given. “Really?”

“Really,” she replied. “My ex is missing. I’ll admit that’s true. But I didn’t kill him and hide his body somewhere, and don’t believe anyone else did, either. We’d stopped caring about each other quite a while ago but our divorce was only final about a month ago. He blamed it on me, made some pretty nasty allegations that were totally untrue, that I’d been unfaithful when he was the one having affairs...and he was furious with me for wanting a divorce. And—well, I can’t prove it yet, but I believe he even got one of his friends to help him and frame me, while he’s off somewhere, maybe even someplace as remote as Bali. He used to talk about going there someday. Wherever he is, I’m sure he’s checking what’s going on from his computer and otherwise—and laughing his head off. He’s undoubtedly considering his revenge against me sweet. And this way, he might even be able to keep my part of the divorce settlement.”

She really appeared steamed now, looking down toward the table and shaking her head so her short hair rubbed at her shirt collar.

He couldn’t help it. He needed to know more about this allegation that her ex wasn’t even dead, let alone murdered—and Zane might have plotted the entire thing. He put his elbows on the table and leaned toward her.

“So Zane is really alive? Do you have any proof?”

“No, but there’s no real proof he’s dead, either. He’s missing, yes. He and I argued, privately and in public. And when he went missing, the cops found a knife in the guesthouse on his property, where I was living temporarily till I decided where to move. They found it in my closet, of all places. There was blood on it—Zane’s, according to the official analysis. There were no fingerprints on the knife, though, and his body wasn’t found.”

“But—”

“Sure, that doesn’t look good for me. The district attorney apparently took it seriously, though my lawyer assured me all the evidence was circumstantial, clearly not proof that I did anything.” She was clutching her water bottle as if it was the DA’s throat and she wanted to strangle her. Or maybe Grayson was just imagining that from the anger and frustration on her face. “I admit it looks pretty bad that the bloody knife was in my closet. But someone clearly sneaked in and hid it there—Zane himself, probably.”

“I understand,” Grayson said. “Not sure if I know all the claims or evidence supposedly against you, but I did hear a lot a week or so ago, when they said you’d just been arrested.”

He’d been surprised to learn that this woman he knew remotely and met occasionally, a mere acquaintance who’d seemed nice enough, was a murder suspect. But what had been blared out on TV, newspapers, online and radio news was that Zane Oliver had disappeared and was believed dead, partly thanks to that bloody knife.

Suspicions had immediately landed on his ex-wife. They’d divorced not long ago, and the media more than hinted that the reason for it was that Zane’s wife, Savannah, had been having a torrid affair with a local real estate developer.

“I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to be the main, maybe only, suspect when Zane disappeared that way,” Savannah went on, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, and you want to hear more of that circumstantial evidence that’s all false?” She didn’t wait for his reply before continuing. “There were—are—some horrible false rumors about me. It seems I was having a hot and heavy romance during the end of my marriage to Zane with Schuyler Wells, of all people.” She glared at Grayson as if daring him to say something.

Which he did, though nothing accusatory. “Right. I read about that.”

“Didn’t you hear his interviews in the media? Zane must have paid him well, since he claimed we had something and planned to run away together as soon as my divorce from Zane was final. Not!” She practically screamed the last word and stood, grabbing the scissors as if she was going to use them on him—or someone. Fortunately, she quickly realized what she was doing and, tears running down her lovely cheeks, collapsed back into the chair, gently pushing the scissors, handle first, toward him. “Here.”

He pulled them closer on the table but didn’t hide them, as if showing he believed her.

“And,” she continued, her voice rasping, “what a surprise. Schuyler has a solid, impeccable alibi, on a business trip during the crucial time of the supposed murder, with people who don’t even work for him vouching for him. But, gee, he does admit to having had a really steamy affair with me.” Her head shook back and forth in utter denial. “No way. I’ve met the guy, even got some real estate advice from him, but I never liked him. And as I said, one of the reasons Zane and I got divorced was because he was having affairs. I wasn’t.”

“I get it.” Grayson reached across the table and grasped Savannah’s hand, where it now rested beside her water bottle. And he did get it. He didn’t believe she’d made her side of it up.

Besides, what he’d recalled before gave him a clue as to Savannah’s underlying personality, someone who helped to save lives rather than taking them. That situation had occurred at a fund-raiser his siblings had thrown for First Hand First Responders when he was just starting up the business. As he recalled, Savannah was not only there, but she was arguing with another socialite type who seemed very malicious. As a few other attendees started hollering at them to be quiet, they’d gone out onto the balcony of the two-story, swanky restaurant in downtown Mustang Valley.

Grayson, somewhat amused at the time, had watched through a window near one of his family’s tables as they continued to argue. He’d been shocked when the other woman took a swing at Savannah and missed her—but the woman had been close enough to the railing that the movement made her nearly fall over it.

And Savannah, acting fast, had leaned over the balcony to grab that woman’s wrists, hanging partly over the side herself for a while till a couple of guys ran out and pulled them both safely and completely onto the balcony.

Though he barely knew her then, Grayson had been impressed that Savannah had immediately endangered her own life to help someone who’d just been mean to her. That was distinctly not the behavior of a cold-blooded killer.

And no matter how difficult her relationship with her ex had turned out, he just couldn’t see her as a murderer.

He didn’t mention that to Savannah. But he did say, “I assume you won’t be going back to town tonight, maybe not for a long time. In case you’re wondering, this place is a fishing cabin, and the owners never come here until late in the spring—and this is only April. You can hang out here for now, if you’d like.”

“Oh yes, I’d like that.” She sounded relieved and her expression as she looked at him across the table seemed—well, grateful.

There was nothing she needed to be grateful to him for. Not yet, at least, if ever. Did he really want to put his own freedom into jeopardy by helping her? Maybe. He would have to think about it.

What about bringing her back to town, then attempting to help her by finding her ex?

He doubted she would go along with that, and he wasn’t about to take any steps to get her back into custody. Not now, at least.

Well, he figured this place was a good potential hideout for her, at least temporarily. Despite being a walkable distance from the destroyed van, it wasn’t that close to where she had escaped from it, although the cops might wind up looking around here.

In any case, he wasn’t about to help her find someplace else. But he figured he would help her a bit by bringing her some supplies, since he doubted this place held much in the way of food and other necessities at this time of the year.

He would have to be careful, though. He was buying into her story, but was it true? Was she innocent?

He would assume so...for now. But he would also stay alert for anything that told him otherwise.

“Let’s take a look at the damaged part of the cabin, though,” he said, waving toward the far side where the wooden walls were somewhat smashed.

They both stood and walked in that direction. Grayson had an urge to take Savannah’s hand and hold it encouragingly, but he decided that would be a bad idea.

They stopped beside each other and looked at the damaged wall from this angle. Some panels had even fallen down and left gaps, and the windows at that part of the room no longer existed.

But fortunately, most of the broken glass and wooden boards, insulation, shelves and other building materials must have landed outside, and somehow the remaining walls had fallen into a sideways slant so there wasn’t even much in the way of an opening.

The rest of the place certainly looked habitable.

“It’s not so bad,” Savannah, at his side, whispered.

“I agree,” Grayson said more loudly. “I’ve got a couple of phone calls to make now to ensure that my team doesn’t head this way looking for me or for any injured people, then I’ll head downtown. I’ll bring you some supplies tomorrow, okay?”

“Definitely okay,” she said, smiling at him. He couldn’t help smiling back. “And—”

She stopped, so he prodded, “And what?”

“Well, I no longer have my phone, as you can imagine. Is there some way you could get one for me? I’ll be glad to repay you for all this whenever...whenever it’s all over and I get my life and my money back.”

He laughed. “Sure thing,” he said. “I know where I can get you a burner phone with internet access, so you’ll be able to stay in touch with what’s going on.”

“Thanks.”

He moved away then and called Norah Fellini, the EMT on his team.

“Hi, Grayson,” she said immediately. “Where are you? Is everything okay? Do you need help with any other victims?” Of course she knew about his finding the van driver who didn’t make it, since he kept his team apprised.

“No, I don’t need any help now, thanks. That deceased driver was picked up by an ambulance, and then I headed toward some of the fishing cabins just to make sure no one was hurt or trapped inside. So far, I’ve checked the cabin on Rural Route 2 and haven’t found anything I need to deal with, so I’m going to the next one that’s about five miles away before driving back to town. I’d appreciate it if you’d let the rest of our team know, okay?”

“Sure,” she said. She filled him in on what she and the other two team members had been up to. They’d had to find a couple of missing kids and give medical attention to them and a few other people, but they hadn’t dealt with any major emergencies. “We did report in to our local PD and other contacts and all, so we should get paid—although that’s not the main thing, of course.”

“Of course. Just glad no one appeared badly hurt. See you tomorrow.” He said good-night and hung up.

He walked to the table once more since Savannah sat there, looking exhausted. Well, he was, too, but he’d do as he had told Norah, then head back to town. At least he should be able to drive there, although it would take a while since he had left his vehicle near the crushed van.

“I’ll be back tomorrow with some supplies,” he told Savannah as he got ready to go.

“That’s so nice of you.” She stood up again. “Oh—and, well, maybe I shouldn’t mention it, but I wanted to let you know I’d heard that someone shot your dad. I’m so sorry. How is he?”

Grayson’s father was Payne Colton, chairman of the board of Colton Oil and owner of Rattlesnake Ridge Ranch—where Grayson lived with his siblings.

He felt himself cringe at Savannah’s question. His dad wasn’t doing well at all. Recently shot by an unknown person, Payne had gone into a coma—and hadn’t come out of it yet.

There were more family things going on, too. They had just recently learned, thanks to a strange email, that his oldest brother, Ace, might have been switched at birth with another baby.

But to Savannah he simply said, “We think he’s improving. Thanks for asking.” He reached out to take Savannah’s hand, but she pulled him closer, giving him a brief hug.

A hug that somehow made him want to get even closer, though he didn’t. “Glad to hear that. So—see you tomorrow?”

“Yes,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

He hoped. Oh, yes, he would return. But would she still be here? Would she be okay?

He would find out when he got here.