Savannah Law

by William Eleazer

  Sterner stood for the first time since the voting started. “I trust all of you realize the confidentiality of all voting in this process, as well as the special sensitivity of the vote we just took. Nothing is to leave this room with regard to any particular vote. I will personally inform Professor Nolan that he is no longer under consideration, but the vote count will not be revealed.”

  With that, Sterner proceeded to the next applicant. The voting was completed shortly after five. Nineteen of the twenty-seven applicants had been deleted from further consideration.

  As the committee members were departing, Jennifer told Scott that Marjory Hoffman and Jacqueline Hinesley were stopping at the Library and had invited her to join them. “Do you mind if I put dinner off until seven?” she asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “Good. I’ll see you at seven. And don’t forget the movie.”

  CHAPTER 45

  Scott did not forget the movie. What he forgot was to ask Jennifer for a recommendation. He had no idea what she had already seen, not a clue. As far as he could recall, they had never even discussed movies. Scott was not much of a movie fan. He preferred sports on TV, and, besides, his recreational viewing was limited by the demands of law school. He selected two: The Departed, with Jack Nicholson, and Little Miss Sunshine, with a cast he had never heard of.

  Scott found a parking space on West Taylor almost in front of Jennifer’s front door. When Jennifer opened the door, she was wearing a pair of tight jeans, a light blue, silk blouse, and a broad smile. Scott returned the smile and gave her a strong embrace and a passionate, lingering kiss.

  Jennifer closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Then she took her lips from his and whispered, “Not now.”

  “I’ll take that as a promise,” Scott replied.

  Jennifer just smiled and walked to the kitchen through a wide walkway that also held a dining table and chairs. “I’m still putting your victory dinner together. I stayed too long at the Library. Take a seat on the sofa, and turn on the TV while I finish in the kitchen. The lasagna is about out of the oven. You do like lasagna, don’t you?”

  “Does a Marino like lasagna? My mother invented lasagna.”

  “Good. This is chicken lasagna Alfredo, with shredded spinach. It’s my mother’s recipe and my dad’s favorite—always served on birthdays and special celebrations. I made it a few days ago and froze it.”

  Jennifer was speaking loudly from the kitchen. Scott had turned on the TV and was searching for a ball game on WTOC-TV, the local Braves station. They were to play the Florida Marlins that evening. Jennifer’s cell phone rang. It was on the table in the living room, next to the sofa.

  “Would you get that, Scott?” Jennifer called. “It’s probably Nicole. We have a study session at her apartment tomorrow morning.”

  Scott picked up the phone. “Hello... hello... Nicole?” There was silence from the other end but no disconnect. “Hello! Who’s there, please?” There was no response, and Scott hung up and walked back to the kitchen.

  “No one answered.”

  “I get a lot of those calls. Someone must have a number similar to mine. Clumsy fingers, I guess.”

  “You say you get a lot of such calls? How many is ‘a lot’?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. About one a night recently.”

  “From the same phone number?”

  “Just random calls, I suspect. None of the numbers were numbers that I recognized, and I didn’t check to see if the same number was calling.”

  “Mind if I check?”

  “Of course not.”

  Scott still held Jennifer’s phone. He pulled up the calls she had received over the past two weeks, and yes, the number that had just called, 912-811-3160, appeared each day, and all were night calls.

  “Did you ever return the call?”

  “No. I just assumed they were misdialed calls. Until you just checked, I didn’t know they were from the same number.”

  “Then I’ll check it out.” Scott turned off the TV and pressed the key to return the call. A mechanical voice responded. “Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice-message system. 912-811-3160 is not available. At the prompt you may record your message or hang up. Press 1 for....”

  “No answer, Jen. But it concerns me. I’ll try to check the number out on the Internet tomorrow.” Scott found a pen and copied the number.

  “Dinner’s about ready. Would you mind opening the wine?” Jennifer handed Scott a bottle of Chianti and an opener.

  Scott was surprised. “I didn’t know you drank wine. But I’m delighted you do—your family’s lasagna recipe deserves it.”

  “There is a lot you don’t know about me, Scott. There is a time and place for everything.”

  Scott just smiled and poured the wine into the two glasses on the table. Jennifer placed the lasagna and salad on the counter, and they served their plates. Jennifer turned off the lights in the kitchen, dimmed the light in the dining area, and lit two tall candles on the side of the table.

  Just as she was seated and took her first bite of lasagna, she said, “Oops! I forgot the bread.” She hurried to the kitchen and returned with the garlic rolls. “I need more practice at entertaining.”

  “You don’t need more practice at cooking. This is perfect— and remember, I’m a lasagna expert.”

  “Thanks. I just follow the recipe. What movies did you bring?”

  “The Departed and Little Miss Sunshine. Have you seen them?”

  “No, neither one, but I’ve heard The Departed is great—Jack Nicholson, right?”

  “And DiCaprio and Damon,” said Scott.

  “Even better!”

  Scott was serious; he was a lasagna expert, and this rated with the best. The Chianti was the perfect complement.

  Jennifer cleared the dishes, and they lingered at the table discussing classes, law school campus activities, and the trial. Eventually, Jennifer said, “Let’s see the movie—I vote for The Departed.”

  “The Departed it is,” said Scott, and they walked to the living room. Scott removed the movies from the video store bag. On the table beside the TV, Scott saw the VHS player and discovered his second mistake in renting movies that night.

  He turned to face Jennifer, who had taken a seat on the sofa, and held up the DVDs and grinned. “Please tell me you have a DVD player.”

  Jennifer began to laugh. “No, I’m planning to put in a request for one at Christmas, but right now I’m in the VHS generation. I’m sorry; I should have told you.”

  Scott smiled and placed the movies back into the bag. “Now that The Departed has departed, any suggestions?”

  “Yes. Let’s just relax here on the sofa. I have a CD player and a great selection of CDs.”

  “Like what?” asked Scott. Not that it made any difference. He just liked the idea of the two of them “relaxing” on the sofa.

  “Mariah Carey—all her latest. Kelly Clarkson, John Mayer, Céline Dion. But I’ve got plenty of others. What do you like?”

  “All of them.”

  Jennifer loaded the CD, walked back to the dining area, and turned off the light. Then she returned and took a seat next to Scott on the sofa. They listened to Mariah Carey’s “Hero” and “Without You.” Then Céline Dion’s unique, beautiful voice filled the room with “A New Day Has Come.” The light from the two candles sent a soft, flickering glow into the darkened living room. Scott placed his arm around Jennifer and held her just as he had four weeks earlier on the same sofa, only this time she was not experiencing fear, just contentment.

  When Céline began “My Heart Will Go On”—the theme from Titanic—Jennifer said, “That’s an old one, but still one of my favorites.” She reached for Scott’s hand and said, “I feel like dancing.”

  He followed her from the sofa onto a nearby area of the wood flooring not covered by carpet. It was a perfect dance stage. Scott reached around her with both hands and held her close against his body. He felt the palms of her hands firmly
on the back of his shoulders, her warm, soft cheek against his. It was easy and natural to follow the relaxing rhythm created by this sensational voice. They moved slowly, but their bodies were alive with the pulsating energy of each touch that brought them closer together. As the song was ending, Scott moved his hands lower and pulled her gently but firmly into him. Jennifer responded by looking into his eyes and smiling. Then she rested her head on his shoulder and joined in the song’s lyrics, ever so softly.

  When the last note was played, they were standing in the middle of their small dance floor, still warmly embraced in each other’s arms. Scott tilted his head down, and they held their kiss until Jennifer took his hand and led him into her bedroom.

  • • •

  It was almost midnight when Scott left Jennifer’s apartment. At the doorway, he held her close and gently kissed her again before walking out to his car. He did not see the figure of the man slouched down in the second vehicle behind his. The man had been waiting patiently.

  Scott pulled out onto the one-way street and turned at the next intersection. As Scott’s tail lights disappeared from sight, the man started his vehicle. He placed it in park, pushed a button to unlatch the trunk lid, and walked to the rear of the car. He made sure the trunk lid was unlatched. He did not want anything to delay him when he returned for he would be very busy. He then walked to Jennifer’s door and knocked.

  Jennifer had just returned to her bedroom when she heard the knock. It did not alarm her; in fact, she was delighted to hear it. Scott had returned—perhaps for the movies he left, or better, to give her another kiss. She opened the door to welcome him. It was not Scott. The man was wearing a ski mask and holding a hunting knife. Jennifer screamed as he closed the door, but no one heard her.

  CHAPTER 46

  Saturday, September 16

  Scott’s flag football team, the Pigdogs, had scheduled practice at nine for their ten o’clock game against the Strawberry Frogs. It was the first regular league game of the fall semester, and Scott had missed both practices earlier in the week because of the trial. By eight-thirty he was on the practice field, warming up and tossing the football around with another early riser.

  The Strawberry Frogs, the first-place team in the spring semester, continued their winning ways, but the Pigdogs managed to keep the game close. The hard-fought game left Scott physically exhausted yet mentally exhilarated. To Scott, a good workout on the football field was the perfect way to refresh the body, mind, and soul during the constant grind of law school. After a leisurely hot shower and lunch, he would be ready to tackle an afternoon of studying. He was looking forward to the evening; he would be picking up Jennifer at six. They had made plans for dinner at the Six Pence Pub and a movie afterwards, this one in a theater.

  He checked his cell phone for messages as soon as he arrived back at his apartment. There was one text message; it was not from Jennifer but from Nicole. “Please call me.” Scott called right away.

  “Jennifer didn’t show up for our study group this morning,” said Nicole. “I called her cell but no answer. Do you know where she is?”

  “No, I haven’t spoken with her this morning, but I know she was planning to be at your place for the study session.”

  “Well, I’ll keep calling. I took notes and can bring her up to date with the group, but we need her input, too.”

  “We have plans for tonight, but if you don’t catch up with her soon, give me a call.”

  “I will.”

  Nicole hung up, and Scott headed for his shower.

  • • •

  Scott was working on one of his two seminar papers in midafternoon when Nicole called again.

  “Scott, I haven’t been able to contact Jennifer. I’ve called several times. I’m over at her place on West Taylor now. Her car is parked nearby. She doesn’t answer the door bell. She gave me a key to her apartment a couple of weeks ago. I think I should go in, but I don’t want to do it alone. Could you come over?”

  “Sure, Nicole. I’ll be right there.” Scott tried to respond casually, but he was immediately concerned. There were all sorts of possibilities to account for Nicole not being able to contact Jennifer. Most were no cause for alarm, but there were other possibilities. Her stalker was still out there, and that, added to those mysterious phone calls, heightened his concern. As he drove over to Jennifer’s apartment to meet Nicole, he remembered that he had not tried to identify the mystery caller. He would check it out as soon as he got home.

  Nicole was waiting on the sidewalk outside Jennifer’s apartment. “Thanks for coming, Scott,” she said. “I’m just concerned. It’s not like Jennifer to not even call and say she was going to miss our study session.”

  Scott looked a few doors down the street and saw Jennifer’s car in the same place it had been when he left the previous evening.

  Nicole put the key in the front-door lock. As she tried to turn the key, she realized that it was already unlocked. Jennifer had not locked it when she left.

  Scott and Nicole entered, and Nicole called in a loud voice: “Jennifer?” There was no response; she had not expected any. It was merely habit, a courtesy that a visitor instinctively makes when entering someone’s home uninvited.

  Scott found Jennifer’s cell phone in the same place he had laid it. The answering machine was in its usual place in the living room. It displayed no messages. All was as he had last seen it. Even the bed was in the same rumpled condition, but he did not mention that to Nicole. Scott wondered if Jennifer had even slept in it. That observation worried him even more. He wanted to believe that she had gone for a walk, was visiting neighbors, or maybe her folks had surprised her for a visit. But then he recalled that her mom and dad had left Thursday for a ten-day cruise. And she would not have gone for a walk or visited neighbors for such a long time. He could come up with no explanation that diminished his concern.

  Nicole saw the worried look on his face. “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Have you seen her handbag?”

  “No, but I haven’t looked for it. She probably has several, but the one she’s been carrying recently is black leather—it’s a big one.”

  Scott had seen it at the Library when Jennifer showed him the mace gun. It also carried her cell phone, wallet and keys, so it would be large enough to spot in the apartment, but neither saw it. It was there, hanging on an inside doorknob of a closet door; they just missed it.

  “I’m at a loss,” said Scott. “This is not like Jennifer. I’m to pick her up for dinner at six. Nicole, I don’t like this. If she’s not here at six, I’m calling the police.”

  “Yes, please do that, Scott. And would you call me, too?”

  “Sure.”

  Scott returned to his apartment. He found the phone number 912-811-3160 on his nightstand. He ran it through the various Internet services for identifying phone numbers but found no listing. He paid one web site $9.95 on his credit card to find the owner of the number, but that also came up with a blank.

  It was now four o’clock, and still nothing had been heard from Jennifer. He was fearing the worst. Of course, he had feared the worst from the beginning of this ordeal. And he felt helpless. Yet, if she had been abducted, he knew who to look for. He could wait no longer for Jennifer to just show up. Each minute that passed increased his fear. He had to act.

  Marvin’s Foreign Auto was less than a half hour away in Garden City and open on Saturday. He did not expect to find Craig there, but the shop owner may have his phone number and know where he lives. Maybe they had seen him recently.

  Scott arrived at Marvin’s just before 4:30 p.m. Cars were backed up, waiting to be serviced. The waiting room had three customers, and there was no one behind the cash register taking orders. He peered into the shop, looking for someone who might have a moment to answer his questions. After a few minutes wait, a stocky young man appeared with a job order to ring up. Scott waited until he finished at the cash register.

  “I’m l
ooking for Craig, the tow-truck operator.” Scott regretted he had not noted the name of the towing company on the door of Craig’s truck. He was relieved the young man did not respond, “Craig who?”

  “You mean, ex-tow-truck operator.”

  “You know him?”

  “Yeah, I know him. He owes us a couple hundred dollars for parts.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “If I knew where he was, you can bet your sweet ass he wouldn’t still be owing us. My boss sent me looking for him yesterday, when his bill got thirty days overdue. He’s disappeared.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  “A couple weeks ago. Came in with his hand bandaged. Said some bitch had slammed a door on him. He was pretty pissed.”

  “What do you mean, ‘pretty pissed’?” As soon as he said it, Scott realized it was a dumb question.

  “What do you think I mean? You speak English, don’t you? He was angry. His arm was in a sling, fingers bandaged and as big as a mummy’s head. He said something about having to empty his wallet at the emergency room at St. Joseph’s. That’s why he couldn’t pay us. That’s the last time I saw him.”

  “Do you know his phone number?”

  “Nope. When he filled out his credit form for us, he gave a number, but it was a lie. No such number. Just like the home address he gave us. That was a lie, too. But we didn’t find out until he stiffed us.”

  “I think he’s done something really bad to a woman. That’s why I’m looking for him. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  “Nope. And it won’t be the first time he beat up on a woman.”

  “He’s done it before?”

  “According to him, that’s his style. I heard him bragging out in the shop one night. ‘No bitch crosses me! Three of ’em learned too late.’ I ain’t got first hand knowledge, just what I heard him say. But I believe him, because he’s a real asshole.”

  “What was the name of the towing company he worked for? Maybe they have his home address and phone number.”

  “Right. They had it. I checked yesterday, but they said when they fired him, they accidentally wiped his personal stuff from their computer. But it was probably a bunch of lies anyway. Look, I gotta go, but if you find him, give me a call, would you?” And with that the man went back through the door into the shop area.