Will recoiled. “No. Thank God, no. So help me, if those bastards do anything—”
“Bastards—plural?” Anthony interrupted with a loud knock. “How do you know there were more than one?”
Will drew himself straighter in his chair, looking for a minute like his usual aristocratic self. “Because I’m not stupid, Mr. Alt. Kidnappers don’t operate alone. Technically, it won’t work. They need one person to stay with the hostage while the other drops notes or makes calls or picks up the money.”
Savannah agreed. “At least if there wasn’t any blood, we can hope they haven’t hurt her.” She was beginning to feel the reality of the situation. It brought a new urgency to her voice. “Was there anything else? Did you see anything else, find anything else that might tell us more about what happened?”
He shook his head and ran a shaky hand through his hair. That, in itself, was a telling gesture, Savannah mused. Will was always particular about appearances. His clothes were never wrinkled, his tie never crooked, his hair never mussed. He might have put the handkerchief in his pocket out of sheer habit that morning, but, right now, he was deeply upset.
Anthony didn’t seem to notice. With several more loud raps of his knuckles, he asked, “What about a maid? You have one, don’t you?”
“Not at the moment. We’re between maids.”
“So who cleans?”
“We have a service that comes in once a week.”
Wearing a faint smirk, Anthony nodded.
Savannah, who hated cleaning as much as Megan did and saw nothing wrong with having a service if one could afford it, was faintly piqued. “Is there a purpose to this line of questioning?”
“Sure,” Anthony replied. “Since Will seems to have slept through his wife’s kidnapping, I was hoping to find someone who hadn’t. A maid might have heard voices or cries. She might have looked outside and seen tall figures or short figures, a car or a van. I’m surprised you didn’t ask the same question yourself.”
“I didn’t have to. I already knew there was no maid. Given that fact, the issue of who cleans is irrelevant for present purposes.” Sending a brief look at Paul, who was perched on his desk again, Savannah went on. “Okay, Will. You found the note at eight-thirty this morning. Where was it?”
“On the desk.”
“What did you do then?”
There was a moment’s silence, then, “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Paul echoed.
“I didn’t know what to do.” His features were rigid, but his tone became higher pitched. “I searched the house. Megan wasn’t anywhere. Her car—both cars—were in the garage. Her keys were in the house, her purse, her wallet, her clothes. She’d been kidnapped, and the note said not to call the police, so I stood there for a long time without doing a thing, half hoping the phone would ring and it would be Meggie telling me the whole thing was a joke.”
He was close to tears. Intent on giving him a minute to recompose himself, Savannah turned to talk softly to Paul. “They said they’d call. Shouldn’t he be back at the house waiting?”
Paul nodded.
“But I couldn’t meet with you there,” Will cried. “I was afraid if they saw someone coming to the house, they’d think I called the police, and if they think that, they’ll hurt Megan.”
“Based on precedence,” said Paul, “I’d say they’ll be hesitant to hurt Megan if they want that money. And they won’t expect you to sit in the house all alone. They’ll assume relatives will be around, maybe close friends. Hell, you have to see other people, if for no other reason than to get the money together.”
Anthony stopped his hand midrap. “I take it you do have the money,” he said.
“Not on me at the moment,” Will returned with a glare that Savannah lauded. But the glare fizzled when he turned to her. “I agonized all morning—do I see it through by myself, or do I go for help? The obvious thing is to sit at home, wait for that call, pay the money, and get Megan back. But can I trust that that’s what will happen? Can I be sure that if I pay the money I’ll get her back? And, damn it, whoever’s done this should be caught.” He stopped short, frowned at the rug, shook his head. “Forget catching them. I just want Megan back.” He looked up. “I’m here because I considered you two to be friends,” his eyes jumped from Paul to Savannah, “and because I figured you’d know what to do in a situation like this.” His voice was rising again. “I don’t want to make any mistakes. I want Megan back alive. What in the hell am I supposed to do?”
Sitting back in her chair, Savannah tried to still her nerves, all the while thinking that if Will thought she had a magical solution, he was mistaken. “First,” she said, as much to herself as to him, “you’ll have to calm down. Meggie needs you to stay cool. Second, you’ll have to let us contact the FBI—”
“No!”
Paul rose from his perch on the edge of the desk. “Kidnapping is a federal offense. There’s every legal reason for the FBI to be called in, not to mention the fact that those guys know exactly what to do. They’re trained in this type of thing. They have equipment and resources that we don’t have.”
Will wasn’t being persuaded. “I don’t want the FBI. The note said no police, and that’s the way it has to be.”
“But you’ve already come to us,” Savannah reasoned. “You’ve sought outside help, which is just what the kidnappers didn’t want.”
“They said no police. You aren’t the police.”
“We’re a functional law enforcement agency,” Anthony said, and neither Paul nor Savannah argued.
Will did. “You aren’t the police. I can count on you to be discreet. I don’t trust the police that way.”
“Will,” Savannah pleaded, “we’re talking the FBI. We’re talking a few well-trained, carefully selected men who have had experience with this kind of thing.”
But Will shook his head. “No FBI. I don’t want them anywhere near the house.”
She was about to argue further when something else occurred to her. “Speaking of the house, did you clean things up?”
He hesitated. “Should I have?’
In unison, three voices said, “No!”
He let out a breath. “I didn’t. I didn’t know where to begin. I haven’t touched a thing, except to lock the door between the library and the hall. It was cold with the glass broken.”
“That’ll have to be fixed,” Savannah said. “But first, we need to have someone comb through what’s there to see if there’s anything useful. Fingerprints, footprints, clothes or hair samples—”
“No police, Savannah.”
“There are two fellows I work with all the time.”
“No police.”
“I’d trust these two with my life.”
“It’s not your life in danger, it’s Megan’s.”
“I’d trust them with hers, too. I trust them, Will. Sammy and Hank are on long-term assignment to the AG’s office. They’ve handled dozens of sensitive cases for us. They’re good. They’re professionals. They’ll go to your house looking like … like that cleaning service Megan uses. If our kidnappers are in the bushes watching, they’ll assume you’re just cleaning up the mess they made.”
She paused to see whether Will would argue, but Paul wasn’t giving him that chance. “Our men will sweep the place for anything that might be helpful in identifying the kidnappers,” he said. “Something they find—even the smallest little nothing—could prove to be the key to finding out who they are. At the same time, we’ll put a tap on the phone and set up monitors in the basement. You won’t even know Shanski and Craig are there, but they’ll be listening and recording any calls that come in. There may be some background noise that will identify where the kidnappers are, and even if there isn’t it’ll be important to get their voices on tape. We’re doing more and more with voice-prints. That could help with a conviction.”
“If you catch them.”
“Right. But if you don’t let us do our thing, we won’t have a pr
ayer in hell of catching them. I don’t know how to comb a room for prints or tap a phone. Neither does Savannah. Shanski and Craig do.”
Savannah picked up the ransom note she had earlier dropped on the floor. “I think we’ll need all the help we can get.” She turned the brown paper over, then back. “This kind of bag has to be used in dozens of markets in Rhode Island alone. We could probably identify the papers and magazines these letters were cut from, but trying to locate one particular reader would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.” She glanced at Will. “We need Sammy and Hank.”
Will showed his first sign of wavering. “They don’t look like they’re with the police?”
She would have grinned had the situation been less serious. “They don’t wear uniforms, if that’s what you mean. Sammy’s hair reaches his shoulders. Hank has three earrings in his left ear. They could easily pass for workmen, or for thugs come to wipe you out while those French doors are out of commission. What do you say, Will? Let us do it. It’s our only chance.”
Will looked torn in two. “What if the kidnappers find out your men are with the police?”
“You didn’t go to the police. You came to us.”
“But those men you’ve mentioned are with the police.”
“They’re with us. The kidnappers will never know where they came from. They won’t even know Sammy and Hank are at the house.”
“Won’t there be a car parked outside?”
“They’ll be dropped off,” Paul said. “Whatever equipment they need will be suitably disguised. Once they arrive at the house, they’ll be there for the duration.” He hesitated. “I take it no one’s there now?”
“You’re the first people I’ve told. I was afraid to call anyone. Word spreads too quickly. If this gets out to the papers, Megan will be in trouble. Everything has to be kept quiet.”
“It will be,” Paul assured him, and turned to Anthony. “Agreed?”
Anthony, who would have liked nothing more than to call a press conference there and then to announce that the attorney general’s office was taking charge of the Vandermeer kidnapping case, agreed, in spite of himself, that immediate publicity would have to wait. There would be plenty of opportunity for grandstanding when the case was solved.
“Agreed,” he said.
Paul reached for the phone. “Let me put in a call for Shanski and Craig. I want them over there ASAP.”
Savannah stood, as did Will. He was looking bewildered again, as though he still didn’t know what he was supposed to do. “You should have someone with you,” she advised gently. “Is your sister around?”
He shook his head. “She’s in Paris with husband number three, but even if she weren’t, she wouldn’t come. She never liked Megan.”
Not caring to belabor that point, Savannah moved on. “Is there someone else you’d feel comfortable having over?” She thought back to the people with whom the Vandermeers were most closely associated. “How about the Brogans? Or Carter and Julie West?”
But Will was shaking his head. Darting an uncomfortable glance at Anthony, who was fidgeting by Paul, he took several steps away. Savannah followed him toward the door, out of earshot of the other two. Still, he spoke under his breath, barely moving his mouth. His head was bowed. He remained visibly uncomfortable. “We haven’t been seeing many people lately. Things have been difficult.”
Savannah had guessed that, based on hints Megan had dropped the last time they’d seen each other, which had been two weeks before. “Financial things?” she asked.
He nodded and looked up to make sure neither Paul nor Anthony had heard. Then, tucking his chin low again, he said, “I’ve had some setbacks. Nothing that can’t be remedied, but this couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”
Something that had been niggling at the back of her mind took that moment to come forward. “Answer me honestly, Will. Do you have three million?”
He took a shaky breath, raised his head, and looked her in the eye. “No, I do not have the money, but I can get it. I’m insured for this kind of thing.” He tossed a pleading look skyward. “God, it’s ironic. Megan thought I was crazy when I told her about the policy. She laughed. She said that she wasn’t worth enough to be kidnapped. It was hard for her to believe what she was marrying into.” He gave a bitter snort. “And look what she got. Her husband isn’t worth much more than a hill of beans, and she’s been kidnapped.”
He eyed Savannah in dead earnestness. “I don’t give a damn about the three million. I honestly don’t. I mean it when I say that if it were up to me, I’d sit home, make the payoff, and get Megan back. She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t have more than a couple of thousand dollars in the bank when she married me. It’s because of who I am and where I come from that her life’s in danger.” His voice rose in emotion. “To hell with the kidnappers. I just want Megan back.”
For a split second, Savannah was taken out of time and place and overwhelmed by a rush of envy. She had not often envied Megan over the years, but she did now. To be married to a man who felt so fiercely about his wife was truly something.
Regaining his composure, Will continued in the same low, private murmur. “But it’s the insurance business. A condition of the policy is that an authorized person be involved. The insurance company is more than willing to hand over the money for the exchange, but they want to maximize their chances of getting it back. I figured that between you and Paul, I’d be able to satisfy them without antagonizing the kidnappers.”
Grasping his arm, Savannah said, “You’ve done the right thing. Sammy and Hank are the best. Really.” She paused. “Have you called the insurance people?”
“I told you, I haven’t called anyone.”
“I think you should. Get that ball rolling. In the meantime, you should have someone with you at the house.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
Savannah thought guiltily that she was grateful Megan’s mother was dead. She wouldn’t have wanted to break the news of a kidnapping to her. “A personal friend, maybe?”
“I don’t need anyone.”
“Not even for moral support?”
He gave a quick shake of his head.
“What if you’re in the bathroom and don’t hear the phone?”
“Oh.”
“Isn’t there anyone you want to call?”
He shook his head. “Megan’s got no family. What’s left of mine isn’t worth notifying. I don’t feel comfortable, well, I’d rather not call friends at this point.”
The irony of the situation did not escape Savannah. Will could host a party the following Saturday night and there would be two hundred people in attendance. Yet when it came to calling a single friend to hold his hand through a rough spell, he came up short.
Anthony wouldn’t have a drop of sympathy for William Vandermeer, but Savannah wasn’t Anthony. She knew that Will played tennis three times a week as part of a regular foursome, that he and Megan had spent time during each of the past few winters in Saint Croix with two other couples, that they regularly went to the symphony with a completely different group. But the term friend was defined differently in social circles of the type to which both her family and the Vandermeers belonged. Things like pride, protocol, and petty rivalries prevented friendships from becoming close. Weakness was not something one showed willingly. Keeping a stiff upper lip was the order of the day.
So Will had no one to call. Savannah thought to contact one of Megan’s friends, but she and Susan were the closest. And Will. In addition to being husband and wife, Will and Megan were best friends. In spite of their age difference, they shared everything. Then again, perhaps it was because of their age difference that they were close; since Megan was too young for Will’s friends and Will too old for hers, they turned to each other.
But Megan couldn’t be with him just then, and he needed someone. “Will, let me call Susan,” Savannah suggested. “She loves Megan like I do. She’d want to know what’s happened. I’m sure
she’ll want to help out in any way she can.”
“The less people involved, the better.”
“Just one person. Just Susan. She cares about what happens to Megan, like you do.”
“No one cares like I do.”
“Okay,” Savannah conceded, “but let me call Susan anyway.”
“I’m sure she has better things to do than to baby-sit me.”
“She has nothing better to do.” That was a fact, and Savannah saw enough signs of weakening in Will not to want to argue further. “Listen, you go on home. Contact the insurance company. I’ll call Susan from my office and clear myself up for the next few hours.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to be there to see you set up. I have a meeting at five that I can’t miss, but Susan will be there by then. Sammy and Hank should be there even sooner. Once they’ve gone through the library with a fine-tooth comb, you can call in the glass people to fix the door. Meggie shouldn’t have to see it broken when she gets home.”
“Do I dare use the phone? What if the kidnappers try to call and get a busy signal?”
“They’ll call again.”
“Should I be ready with a suggestion for an exchange place?”
“They’ll have their own place in mind.”
“What if it’s somewhere secluded?”
“It probably will be.”
“They’ll be able to take the money and run. They won’t care about Megan.”
“But you’ll insist on seeing Meg first. You’ll tell them that they can choose the place, but that the deal is the money for your wife, there and then.”
“How can I demand that, when they’re holding all the cards? How can I demand anything?”
“You can demand it, and you will,” Savannah insisted, “because they’re not holding all the cards. You’re the one with the money. Don’t forget, it’s the money they want, not your wife. A little show of strength is in order, Will. If not for yourself, for Megan.”
For a minute, Will didn’t answer. When he did, he was looking puzzled. “Where do you get yours, Savannah?”
Heart of the Night: A Novel Page 3
