by J. L. Drake
I take the elevator because I have time and find myself a chair in the lobby. The man behind the desk gives me a nod before going back to playing something on his phone. I count how many times the heater kicks in, how many tiles are on the floor and ceiling, and how many times the man at the desk glances my way. After sitting for forty-five minutes, I can’t take any more. Needing to do something, I open my phone to the only two numbers saved, Jake and Sue, and press call on the second name.
“Savannah?” Sue asks, puzzled. She has a right to be. I haven’t spoken to her in over a week, and no doubt she’s heard about my blow-up with Cole. I’m not trying to be distant with her; I just find it easier to pull away from everyone at the house altogether.
“Hi, Sue. Did I wake you?”
She gives a little laugh. “No, I’ve been up for some time. You know how I love the mornings.” She pauses. “Is everything all right, dear?”
No. “Yes, I’m…” Lost, tired, scared about my trip. “I just wanted to see how you are.”
“I'm fine. I've just been battling the snow like everyone this winter. How are you holding up?”
“Fine,” I answer too quickly.
I hear her seat creak. “Okay, so we played the pleasant, do you want to tell me why you’re really calling?”
“I’m scared,” I confess.
“About? Your trip?”
I close my eyes. Of course she knows about Washington. “Yes, and then some.”
“The trip, I understand. I would be too. That’s perfectly normal.” She pauses. “What else are you afraid of, Savannah?”
I reach for my necklace and clasp the snowflake pendant. My throat tightens with thoughts of Cole, but no words come out because I don’t even know where to start.
“Savi, when you get back, I want you to come to Shadows and spend Saturday afternoon and evening with us. It’s been too long since you’ve been home, and everyone misses you. I understand you need your space, but it’s not healthy for you to isolate yourself from everyone who loves you.” Home. The word drips with emotion. I miss everyone terribly. How can I say no to Sue?
“All right,” I whisper in fear my voice will break. I look up and see Keith speaking with the security guard. He’s eyeing me as I say goodbye to Sue.
Chapter Three
“You ready?” Keith asks, reaching for the handle of my suitcase. I follow him out into the morning frost. It’s still dark, making everything seem that much colder. The SUV is still warm, and we drive in silence all the way to the airport. It saddens me that Keith is pulling away, but can I blame him? It’s what I told Cole I needed. Isn’t it what I want, the chance to find myself? I can’t do it if I have Keith taking care of me every day. So I keep my mouth shut, face forward, and try to push back the sneaking fear that’s dancing along my spine.
The airport is quiet, with hardly anyone around. Keith hands me my ticket as someone approaches us. I watch as Keith holds out his hand and gives the man a firm handshake.
“Savannah, this is Agent Hahn. He’s on Frank’s detail. He’ll be traveling with you to Washington and making sure you are well briefed before the testimony.” I nearly fall over right there. Keith isn’t coming; he won’t be my rock as I go through all of this. “You’ll be fine, and I’ll be here to pick you up when you return.” My heart slams into my stomach, looking for a way out.
I’m mute. All I can do is give a slight nod and follow Agent Hahn to the gate, where we walk out to the tiny plane and board. The plane that will drop me off at the feet of my worst nightmare.
As soon as we are in the air, I mentally check out.
***
Cole
Cole listens to his father brief him and his team about a target who needs to be extracted from Mexico City. They are possibly holding a child for ransom, and the parents happen to be the owner of the Garrisons’ Casinos, one of the biggest casino companies worldwide and known to have a shady side. They’ve been asked to check it out and see what they can come up with.
Keith knocks and steps inside the door, halting the conversation. “Savi is on the plane. She should be there within the hour.”
Mark’s jaw drops as he shifts in his seat. “You didn’t go with her?” Keith shakes his head, and Mark turns to look at Cole. “Why didn’t he go?”
“We have to work,” Cole mutters, picking up a file, but apparently Mark has more to say.
“Ummm, what?” Mark pushes himself out of his chair and stares at them. “You mean Savi is on that plane by herself?”
“Let it go,” Daniel warns.
“No! Someone should be with her. She’s facing The American and Lynn! Cole, you should be there, not hiding behind your desk.”
Cole drops the thick folder, making John jump. “You don’t think I want to be there, Mark? You don’t think it’s turning me inside out that my girl is a state away and only an arm’s length from the people who tried to kill her? I was ordered to stay behind and do my job. I was ordered to leave for Mexico when all I want to do is be in that courtroom with her. I’m not hiding. I’m following orders since I didn’t last time. I have to, for the sake of everyone, especially for the sake of Shadows’ reputation.” His anger is seeping out of him as he looks at Mark, who has backed off and is nodding. He gets it now.
Paul’s phone rings, taking some of the tension from the room. “We have a hit. We should get moving.”
***
Savannah
I shake the entire drive to the Washington base. Agent Hahn is friendly, but I just want to stay in my zone, turned off, not answering questions about the weather. We really have nothing in common. I think of Sue, wondering if I should call her just to hear her voice…but that’s not the voice I really want to hear.
“Hello again, Savannah.” Frank smiles as he greets me at the car. “Please come inside.” He hands me a visitor badge and leads me into a large gray building where everything is muted, from the color of the walls to the people’s clothing and even their voices. “This is my office. Can I get you anything?”
“Coffee would be great, thanks,” I say in a quiet voice to fit the surroundings, then take a seat across from his dull metal desk littered with papers. On the wall are a few pictures of a younger version of Frank starting out in the Army, and two others with President Obama and former President Bush. Medals hang in wooden boxes, and an old-fashioned rifle sits in the corner as though waiting to be mounted. He probably never got around to doing it. He hands me a coffee before he takes a seat. “Thank you.”
Flipping open a file, he gets right to it. “So you were first taken from your condo in New York by a Raul Paru.”
“Please jump right in,” I mutter, taken aback. “I don’t know who Raul Paru even is.” Frank hands me a picture, and it takes me a minute, but then I see it, and the memory comes flooding back. My cut leg, the cold, thick substance which later I found out was blood, and the smell in the van. “The painters? These guys were painting my condo the week I was taken. I remember his belt buckle,” I say as I press my finger against the buckle in the photo. I'll never forget that longhorn Texas belt buckle.
“Yes, they were scoping out the place, watching you, learning your habits.”
I hand the picture back and remember Lynn making a comment about how you can buy those belt buckles on any street corner. I feel the wind being sucked out of me. That bitch! I can’t believe she knew what they were doing because she fucking hired them! I wonder how many other times I ran into people she had hired to help take me out.
Frank and I go over all the details of my file, and I am pretty much fried by the time I am taken back to my hotel by Agent Hahn, who is staying with me. I am thankful for the two bedroom suite. He offers to order dinner for both of us, but I decline, just wanting to get some sleep. Tomorrow Frank has me meeting some lawyers, and I want to be able to stay awake for all the legal talk that’s to come.
***
The day is a blur much like the first. I am taken into a conference room and q
uestioned for about four hours on practically the same things, only worded differently. They give me so much advice I almost forget my own name. I'm not sure if I am coming or going. Finally, after I am about to throw in the towel, they inform me that I am to wear a simple black dress with heels, and wear my hair down with no jewelry. I reach for my chain and hold it tightly, and one of the women agrees it is fine, but nothing more. They don’t want me looking too flashy. I don’t understand why, but I'm beyond caring. I just need to get through tomorrow, and then I can get back to my mountain.
“You want something to eat?” Agent Hahn asks as we walk back to the hotel. I shake my head. “How about a drink?” I look up to see him smiling. “I could really use a drink after that.”
“That sounds really good, actually.” I smile back and follow him to a small Mexican restaurant.
“Umm,” I point to the sign, “not to be a pain, but can we get anything else but Mexican food?”
Agent Hahn chuckles a little, then points across the street to an Italian joint. “Is that better?”
“Much, thanks.” I follow him to the crosswalk. We take a seat in the corner of the restaurant and are soon sipping a glass of merlot.
“How are you holding up?” he asks, picking up a piece of bread, dipping it in some oil and vinegar, and popping in it his mouth.
I shrug because I really don’t know. “Ask me tomorrow.”
He chuckles but grows quiet, thinking. “Do you know who I am?”
My fingers twist the stem of the glass, making the wine run up the sides then bleed back down, leaving heavy lines. “No, but if you’re about to tell me you work for The American or the Cartels at least give me a five minute head start.”
“Ha!” He tosses his head back. “No, hell no. I was the one who found Logan the day he escaped.”
“Oh,” I whisper, instantly feeling indebted to this guy.
“I was also there when you were found at The American’s house,” he adds.
I smile at him. I’m starting to get used to the fact that so many people have met me at some point, even if I don’t remember them. I feel the need to explain my behavior. “I’m sorry I’ve been so standoffish. I’m just trying to get through this so I can figure out what I want to do with what’s left of my life.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It is!” I laugh, thinking it’s nice to still be able to.
Our food comes, and we pick away, talking about little things. It isn’t until he brings up the training for the Green Berets that something nags at me from the edge of my memory again.
“What?” he asks, seeing my face.
“Ever have this feeling you’re forgetting something important?” I close my eyes and try to think. “I think it’s got something to do with Davie...the newest recruit at the house.” I see Agent Hahn studying me. “I’m sorry, it’s nothing.”
“It’s okay. Yes, I have, and it’s annoying.”
“Very,” I agree. “It’s like seeing the end of a rope, but it’s just out of reach, I feel like if I could only grab it and tug, the memory would come to me.” I laugh and shake my head. “Oh well, tomorrow is going to be exhausting. I guess we should get back.”
“Yeah,” he grabs his coat, “let’s get back.”
“Agent Hahn?”
“Yes?” He turns to look at me.
“Thanks for taking me out for dinner and the talk. It helped a bit.”
He hands me my hat. “Happy to hear that, Savannah.”
Later, lying in bed with a slight buzz on, just enough to keep the shakes away, but not enough to make my head stop spinning thinking about tomorrow, my cellphone goes off beside me. A flutter of hope that maybe it’s Cole goes through me, but it’s not.
Jake: Coffee doesn’t taste right.
I smirk and roll onto my side.
Savi: Yes it does.
Jake: It does, but I’m bored without you.
I miss my friend too.
Savi: Sorry. I’m coming home Thursday morning.
Jake: Good! You still on for our double date?
Shit.
Savi: It’s not a date, but yes.
Jake: You want some dirt? I have good and bad.
I think for a moment…
Savi: Maybe…bad first?
There’s a small pause, and I wonder if the news is about work. I wonder if someone got fired. Yikes, I hope not.
Jake: I saw Logan in town yesterday…with the town bitch Christina. She had her claws all over him. Just thought you should know.
My stomach sinks…oh…
Jake: Now for the good news! Zack hired some new staff…we're talking yummy staff! I think one may play for my team. One can dream.
I flop on my back and feel my heart squeeze to the point of pain.
Savi: Thanks for letting me know, and I hope so for your sake.
Jake: You all right?
Not at all.
Savi: I hope after tomorrow. I should go…night.
Jake: Call me if you need to chat. Night, Savi. xo
***
“You look…”
“I know.” I snag the coffee Hahn got me and take a few long sips. “I didn’t get much sleep.”
“Did you get any?” he asks, slipping into his suit jacket and taking in the dark circles under my eyes.
“Would you?”
“No, probably not.” He checks the time. “We should go.”
Frank works wonders with this case, keeping the media at bay. The only ones who know I am going to be in court today are the lawyers and the judge.
I am told to sit on a bench and wait for my name to be called. Agent Hahn and Frank are busy talking to the lawyers down the hall, far enough away that I can’t hear what they’re saying.
My nerves are shot. I can feel a slight trembling starting in my legs. To say I'm scared would be putting it mildly. I am freaking out, full throttle. Every breath I take gets harder, like there is a weight on my chest. My phone goes off, making my purse vibrate. I was supposed to turn it off, but I forgot. Not thinking, I answer it.
“Hello?”
“Savannah?” Cole’s voice washes over me. “Are you all right? Are you at the court?”
“I-I don’t think I can do this.” The words slip past my lips. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Hey, baby, you can. Think about how much your testimony will count. How long he will go away for. I know this is scary, but you are strong, and you can do this.”
I hold on to his words, wishing so much he was here with me. Just hearing his voice helps to steady me.
“Savannah Miller,” a clerk calls out. Agent Hahn and Frank come toward me, and I feel panic setting in.
“Cole! I…I have to go.”
“Savi—”
“Thanks for the call.” I hang up and turn my phone off. I can’t listen to what he has to say. It might break the last straw holding me up.
The clerk holds open the door as I step into the massive courtroom. Surprisingly, there aren’t that many people inside. My head stays straight as I walk past the table of lawyers whose eyes seem to be burning holes in me. My heart pounds three beats for every one step I take. I stand in front of the chair and behind the table while the officer asks me to raise my right hand and place the other on the Bible. I swallow hard, my throat dry. I’m hot. Why is it so damn hot in here?
I nervously take a seat as the prosecutor approaches to ask me a series of questions. Things seem to move slowly at first. I have to recall the day I was taken, then describe the events of my seven months in captivity, and finally about when I was rescued. I’m so tired, but I’m here, so I can’t stop now even if I want to. I keep my gaze fixed on Frank, who nods to let me know he’s with me. Then the questions start to pick up, coming at me faster and faster and not giving me a chance to think.
“You say you saw my client? But yet you said you couldn’t see his face? That doesn’t make any sense, Ms. Miller.”
“It was him, I know—”
“How do you know? How do you know it wasn’t someone else?”
“Because I know—”
The lawyer smirks at me. “You need evidence, Ms. Miller. You can’t just go on a hunch.” I start to speak, but he cuts me off again. “Now, you said my client allegedly killed Luka Donovan. Are you sure, or is this just another hunch?”
“I saw him pull the trigger,” I say, and can’t hold back a snicker. I see Frank shake his head, warning me to calm down.
The lawyer picks up a small remote and points it at a screen. “Ms. Miller, you have a reputation for getting the attention of the media, yes?” My blood boils, but he doesn’t wait for me to answer before a picture of me comes up on the screen. I gasp at the intoxicated picture of me published in US Weekly. He flips through several, and some I hadn’t even seen before. “I'd say the camera loves you.” His voice positively drips with sarcasm. “You never liked that your father was in politics, did you? And you obviously intended to make it a rough climb for him.”
“Objection, Your Honor, badgering the witness.”
“Sustained. Mr. Wilson, please get on with it.”
The lawyer holds a hand over his chest. “Of course, Your Honor.” He turns back to me. “You got yourself into trouble with the media quite a bit, yes?”
“No, that’s not what—”
“So you used the media as your outlet, smearing the papers with the fact that he has a drunk for a daughter.”
“Objection!” my lawyer calls out.
“Withdrawn, Your Honor.” The sleazy lawyer puts his hands in the air.
