Heart of the Night

by Barbara Delinsky

  “Do what?” Susan whispered back.

  “Go to bed with him?”

  “If he asked me nicely.”

  “Come on, Suse—”

  “I don’t know, Savannah. How can I possibly answer that? I’ll be going home later, so if the opportunity was ever really here, it’s gone. There will be absolutely no cause for me to see him again.”

  “Unless he calls.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Maybe he likes you.”

  “He hates me.”

  “What if he did call—would you see him?”

  “Probably not,” Susan said, but she knew it was a lie. Sam Craig got to her. He annoyed her, frustrated her, excited her more than any man had in years. If he called her, she’d probably give him a hard time, but she’d probably see him, if only to find out whether the bulge in his jeans lived up to its promise. Then she’d dump him. He was, after all, just as unsuitable for her as she was for him.

  * * *

  “Hi, Savannah.” Jared’s deep voice sizzled over the line.

  A breathless Savannah returned the greeting. “Hi there.”

  “You sound like you just got in.”

  She struggled to hold the phone, remove her coat, catch her breath, and talk at the same time. “I did. I was just coming down the hall when Janie signaled your call.”

  “Want me to call back?”

  “No, no. Give me a second.” Setting the phone on the desk, she hurried out of her coat and tossed it aside, unclipped her earring, put a hand to her chest, closed her eyes, and took a deep, measured breath. Then she picked up the phone again. “That’s better,” she said, knowing full well that the racing of her heart had nothing to do with the dash she’d made down the hall.

  “How did it go?”

  “Okay. He calmed down.”

  “Have you been there all this time?” It was nearly four in the afternoon. He had dropped her off before noon.

  “No. I had a meeting in Pawtucket. But I stayed at Will’s for a couple of hours. I wanted to spend a little time with Susan, too. This has taken something out of her.”

  “Were you able to help her?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  “Did she help you?”

  Savannah didn’t answer at first. Then, a slow, wry smile formed on her lips. “Was I looking that bad?”

  “Not bad. Never bad. You just looked like you could use someone to talk to, and who better than a twin.”

  “A sister,” she corrected. “We’re very different.”

  “Okay, a sister. Did she help?”

  Again Savannah paused. No, Susan had not helped, at least, not when it came to Jared. Susan’s mind was on all-out lovemaking, while Savannah was still debating a kiss.

  A kiss was a milestone. It was a turning point. If Jared kissed her, their relationship would take a new path. If he kissed her, a barrier would be breached. All kinds of things were possible then, and that made her nervous, because she had expectations. She expected that she and Jared would be dynamite together in bed. Jared would be a spectacular lover; she’d be one in return. But what if he wasn’t? What if she wasn’t? One part of her, the cowardly part, thought it better never to try, than to try it and fail. Then she could still have her dreams.

  She sighed. “No, Susan wasn’t much help, not this time.” She cleared her throat. “Did you find anything in those records?”

  Yielding to her change of subject only because he acknowledged the pressing issue behind her question, Jared said, “I learned that some crazy has a thing about red licorice. For the past three months he’s been bugging my receptionists about whether they like it. We’re talking one or two calls per receptionist, per week, not enough to warrant an official complaint, just enough to be annoying as hell. But that’s all, Savannah. I’ve pored through these papers three times, and there isn’t anything that could even remotely be suggestive of a kidnapping or the kind of ransom note you have. Maybe you should go over them yourself. Something may strike you that didn’t—”

  “No. There’s nothing.” She sighed again, this time more wearily. “You were looking. If there’d been anything, you’d have seen it.” Instinctively, she trusted him. “Besides, the kidnappers have been so careful in every other aspect of this crime, I don’t know why I thought they’d leave tracks with you. It wouldn’t fit with the way they’ve worked.”

  “It was worth a look.”

  She wasn’t sure about that, but then from the first she’d had doubts about her reasons for seeking Jared out.

  “Anyway, we’re so near the exchange that it probably doesn’t matter. Once Megan’s back, we’ll call in the FBI.” She went suddenly quiet, then said in a lower voice, “I wish I could call them in now. I keep thinking and rethinking what I’ve done on this case, and it never seems to be enough. What do I know about kidnappings?”

  “What does anyone know about them?”

  “The FBI knows lots.”

  “Do you honestly think they’d have done more than you have? Think about it, Savannah. Even if you’d brought them in, given the threat in that ransom note, they’d have been hamstrung just like you. There aren’t any miracle answers to a kidnapping. The first order of business is to get the hostage back, and that’s what you’ve been working to do.”

  Again, Savannah was quiet, this time for a longer stretch.

  “Savannah?”

  “I’m here,” she said in a small voice.

  “What is it?”

  Still she was silent.

  “Savannah?”

  She felt the words bubbling up. They were out before she could stop them. “I’m frightened, Jared. What if something goes wrong?”

  “Nothing’s going to go wrong. Does your friend have the money?”

  “He will. But I’m worried. I’ve been in charge of this case, and I’ve done my best, still things could blow up in my face.”

  “What things?”

  “I don’t know—Will could go bonkers halfway to the drop site, the kidnapper could decide the money isn’t right—something bizarre that would make mockery of all the care we’ve taken. And more than anyone, I feel responsible.”

  “You’ve done everything you could.”

  “It may not be enough.”

  “It’s as much as anyone else could have done. The kidnappers wouldn’t allow more.”

  She twisted the phone cord back and forth. “Maybe I shouldn’t have listened to them.”

  “You had to listen to Megan’s husband. It’s his wife, his money.”

  “But he came to us for help.”

  “Us. You and your boss. What’s he done through all this?”

  She paused, then admitted, “Not much.”

  “So? He put the weight of responsibility on your shoulders, and you’ve done your best. If he didn’t feel that was enough, he could have stepped in at any time.”

  “I suppose.” Her thoughts took a slight turn. “I didn’t tell you about Paul.”

  “You didn’t have to. One attorney general is like another. They’re political creatures. Your boss knows that when a case of this kind hits the light, the media will scrutinize every step that was taken. What you do—or don’t do—reflects on your boss. He’s not going to let you jeopardize his career.” He took a quick breath. “Am I right?”

  She was quiet for a minute before murmuring, “You’re right.”

  “He wouldn’t do things any differently from what you’ve done.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Whatever happens now is out of your hands. But you’ve tried your best. You have, Savannah. You have to keep telling yourself that.”

  She sighed. “I know.”

  For a minute, there was total silence on the line. Jared broke it by saying, “Are you okay?”

  “Mmm. I’m okay.” She actually felt a little better for having aired her concerns.

  “Can I come over?”

  “No. You’re not supposed to know about this
. You’re not supposed to know about any of this, and here I am, blabbering about every little worry. Don’t you get sick of it?”

  “Sick of what?”

  “Women pouring their hearts out to you.”

  Jared frowned. “They don’t do that.”

  “They must. There’s something about you that invites it.”

  “If there is, they don’t see it. I lead a very private life, Savannah. I go my own way, do my own thing.”

  “But half of Rhode Island is in love with you.”

  “Half of Rhode Island may be in love with my voice,” he said firmly, “but that’s the extent of it. Most of Rhode Island doesn’t know who I am or what I look like, and that’s just the way I want it.”

  Savannah was startled by his vehemence. “I just assumed—”

  “You assumed I had a steady string of women waltzing in and out of here, each one pouring out her heart and soul? Not quite. Even if I had the time, I wouldn’t be interested. I work by night and sleep by day. I don’t date a hell of a lot, because no one has interested me a hell of a lot.” His voice went low. “Until now.”

  Savannah was without a comeback. Men as gorgeous as Jared didn’t go through life alone. “I don’t understand,” she murmured. “There are dozens and dozens of women who’d be on your doorstep in a minute.”

  “I don’t want women cluttering my doorstep. I’m not desperate. I don’t need a woman to survive.”

  “I know that, but still I’d have thought—”

  “That I’d be unable to resist what was offered? I’m thirty-nine years old, Savannah, not some rutting teenager. I like to think I’ve become a little discriminating with age.”

  “You don’t date much?”

  “I’ve already told you that, and why. Besides, when do I have time?”

  “Weekends.” She let her imagination wander to sweet places. “Evenings before work.” And even sweeter places. “Early mornings after work.”

  Early mornings after work. Following her to those imaginary spots, Jared felt himself begin to swell. “Savannah…”

  “What?”

  He cleared his throat, which did little to cancel the thickness of his voice. “You have it all figured out.”

  “I was just answering your question.”

  He swore under his breath, then said gruffly, “I must be nuts, chasing after a lady lawyer. My ex-wife was one. I thought I’d learned my lesson.”

  Savannah wasn’t sure which statement to react to first—the fact that he was chasing after her, or that he had an ex-wife. A previous marriage meant that he valued the concept of monogamy enough to give it a shot. Of course, something had gone wrong. His wife was an ex.

  She closed her eyes. “You’re being very unfair.”

  Jared was still trying to cool his arousal. “Look who’s talking.”

  “How was I being unfair?”

  “Early mornings—do you have any idea what it does to a man to hear a woman talk about early mornings in that soft, very feminine tone of voice?”

  “You’re a fine one to talk about tones of voice,” she accused. “Yours are nearly pornographic.”

  “Does my voice turn you on?”

  “Damn right, it does.”

  “Then maybe we’re even,” he mumbled. A second later, he raised his voice. “How was I being unfair?”

  “By dropping that little bomb about your ex-wife when I don’t have time to follow it up. I’m supposed to be back at Will’s by five.”

  The thought was sobering. “What will you do there for three hours?”

  “Go a little crazy,” she said in a grim tone. “I want to be sure everything’s set for the drop, then make sure Will stays sane. If it weren’t for Megan, I’d work here until later. But I’m having trouble concentrating, so I wouldn’t accomplish much anyway. We’ll probably waste a little time ordering in dinner—waste, because I doubt any of us will be hungry. Except Sammy and Hank. They always eat.”

  “Can I drive you over there?”

  “No.”

  “Can I deliver dinner?”

  “No—uh, maybe—no, you’d better not.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t think it would be smart.”

  “I’ll take Melissa’s Volkswagen, and it’ll be dark, anyway. Just call that number I gave you—the private one—when you decide what you want. I’ll call in the order, pick it up, and deliver it.”

  “What a pain in the neck for you.”

  Jared didn’t respond with words. She felt his answer in an uncanny sense of awareness that came over the line. He wanted to see her again. She couldn’t fight that.

  “You have that conference call to make at six,” she said softly.

  “I’ll make it at five.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “I’m the one with the most money. I can do it. I’ll be free by six.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asked very softly.

  “I’ll be waiting for your call. Talk with you soon.” He hung up before she could say another word.

  * * *

  At six-thirty, Jared showed up at the Vandermeers’ back door carrying an assortment of Big Macs, Chicken McNuggets, salads, fries, and drinks. Savannah met him, led him into the kitchen only far enough to put the bags on the table, then hurried him back to the door. Once there, she tried to press a twenty-dollar bill into his hand. He promptly slid it into the vee of her pale gray wool blouse. His fingers lingered for a split second on her skin, then left. His eyes lingered longer.

  “Let me know what’s happening?” he asked in a husky murmur.

  “I don’t know where I’ll be or when I’ll get home.” She was gently pushing him toward the door.

  “Try. Okay?” Taking her hand from his arm, he enclosed it in his. “Why are you trying to get rid of me? Do I embarrass you?”

  She tugged her hand free and resumed her pushing. “You’re supposed to be a messenger, and a messenger wouldn’t stay this long. Besides, I don’t want you to see my sister. One look at her and you’ll think I’m a dud.”

  His eyes strayed past her. “Is that her? The one with the gorgeous red hair, the sexy bod, and the bottle of Chivas?”

  Savannah bit her lip, which was precisely where Jared looked next. The cast of his eye became more pronounced, the gray flecks darker, creating a smoky look that made her burn. Her teeth relaxed their hold; her lips parted.

  “It’s you I want,” he whispered. “Call me later?”

  She gave a jerky nod, which was all her hammering heart would allow.

  “Promise?”

  She nodded again, then gripped the door as he left. It seemed the only static thing in sight. She closed it, locked it, took the twenty-dollar bill from between her breasts, and buried it in her pocket. Then she turned.

  Susan, who’d been watching her, put down the bottle of scotch and began to unload the first of the bags. “A messenger, you say? He sure didn’t look like a messenger, not the way he was dressed. That jacket didn’t come from K mart. How well do you know him?”

  “Not well.”

  “Did you see the way he was looking at you?”

  “He was delivering our dinner.”

  “He looked like he wanted to eat you for his.”

  “For God’s sake, Susan!” Scowling, Savannah glanced nervously toward the hall.

  “He was big for a delivery boy. Looked more like a bodyguard. You should have invited him in. He could prove helpful later.”

  Savannah set one drink after another on the table. With each she regained a bit more control. “He won’t be needed. Everything is going to be just fine, Susan. Just fine.”

  * * *

  At first, it looked that way. Will was nervous, which was understandable, but he seemed to know exactly what he was supposed to do, and he hadn’t lapsed into wildness again. So Savannah, Susan, and Hank were optimistic as he and Sam left.

  The plan was for Sam to follow him most of the way, wait until Will m
ade the drop, then trail him home. Both cars were equipped with two-way radios. If Will panicked at any point, Sam could help.

  Will didn’t panic. As though taken by a drugged calm, he put the paper bag filled with money into the dumpster as directed, then sat quietly in his car.

  When he didn’t signal that he was leaving, Sam began to get nervous. “Will? Can you hear me, Will?”

  “I’m waiting,” Will informed him.

  “For what?”

  “That guy.”

  “No, you’re not. Get out of there, Will.”

  “I’m waiting. That man hung up on me before I could speak with Megan. I want him to know that if he dares harm her—”

  “Buddy, he’ll do more than harm her if you don’t get your tail out of there.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “You do that and you’ll blow the whole thing.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  Sam touched the gun holstered under his arm. “Fine. You wait, and I’m coming in with my lights flashing and my badge on display. You want that?”

  “I’ll report you.”

  “I don’t give a shit. We’ve played by certain rules this far, and we’re gonna go all the way. Now, do you come out, or do I come in?”

  There was a lengthy silence. Sam was reaching to start his car when Will said, “Fuck you.”

  “What does that mean? Are you coming or not?”

  “I’m coming. But I’ll report you.”

  “Fine. Just get the hell out of there, and do it now.”

  Two minutes later, Will’s car bombed past. He was suddenly in a big rush to get home, so much so that he ran two red lights. Shoving a portable flasher to the top of his car, Sam followed him right through and stuck close behind until he’d pulled up at the house.

  Savannah was on her way out, working into her coat as she ran. She stopped first at Sam’s window. “The call just came in.” She gave him the address of a phone booth on the street corner in Warwick. “The Warwick police are on their way. They’ll be there before we will. Did you see anything?”

  “I didn’t, but my plants did. A battered blue Camaro, a gray Plymouth, and a dusty LeMans. We’ve got plates for the last two. I’ve already called them in.”

  “Megan will have to tell us more. The state police are on alert. They’re setting up ID checks at the local points of departure and will question anyone who looks suspicious. They’re ready to move on whatever Megan gives us.”