by Brenda Novak
“Were they nice?”
“Definitely not. They didn’t like anything about me, didn’t want me around, either.”
The way Branson’s eyebrows knitted together revealed his concern. “So what did you do?”
“Eventually, I was sent to New Horizons, the school where I work. Did you know it’s for boys who are having trouble? That the students at New Horizons actually live there?”
“No. Did you like it?”
Gavin grinned. “I did. Very much. I still do, even though I’m grown now and don’t have to live there anymore. That’s where I met the mom I have now, and you know how great she is.”
“She told me you’re her son.”
“In all the ways that matter, I am, right?”
He took a few minutes to consider that. “I guess,” he said at length. “But do you ever see your dad?”
“I don’t. I probably could. But I’d rather not. I’ve decided I’m happier without him being in my life.”
“You don’t want to see him?”
“No. He isn’t a man I can admire. You may feel yours has some good traits, and that’s okay. When you get older, you can go visit him, if you like. Don’t feel like anyone is trying to take that away from you. You have to listen to what your heart is telling you and follow that.” Gavin pressed his fingers against the boy’s chest to emphasize his point. “Your heart is your compass in life. I just want you to know that things have gotten much better for me since all of that happened. And they will get better for you, too.” Figuring that was about as deep as he should get with an eight-year-old, Gavin turned to repack his toolbox and was nearly bowled over when Branson suddenly embraced him.
Gavin chuckled as he regained his balance and hugged Savanna’s son in return. “What’s this for?”
“I’m going to be just like you when I grow up,” he mumbled into Gavin’s shirt.
Gavin was still rubbing the boy’s back when Savanna came around the corner. She’d been calling them for dinner, but when she saw what was taking place, she stopped and waited at the corner of the house. “You’re going to be just fine,” Gavin told Branson, and a second later, when Branson raced off to go in for dinner, Gavin told Savanna the same thing. “He’s going to be just fine.”
* * *
The day Savanna was scheduled to go to Utah, she was already awake when the alarm went off on Gavin’s phone. So the kids wouldn’t have any clue that he’d started staying over, he’d been getting up and going home in the very early morning, and, so far, it’d worked. They figured it would work until Branson wet the bed and got up in the middle of the night, but fortunately, that hadn’t happened in the past few days. The more Gavin was around, the better Branson seemed to do. Gavin seemed to have a calming, stabilizing influence on all of them.
He was good for a lot of other things, too. The house was looking so much better. They had a running joke between them that she’d probably dump him once all the repairs were done, but she couldn’t imagine her future without him. That was why she’d had so much trouble sleeping, knowing that the day of reckoning—the day of her visit to Nephi—had arrived.
“Are you going home?” Savanna whispered.
When he realized she was awake, he paused. “Did my alarm disturb you?”
“No.” She’d been tossing and turning all night. She was surprised she hadn’t disturbed him.
“You’re nervous?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t blame you. Should I buy a plane ticket and go with you?”
They’d already agreed that he’d take some time off work to drive her to LA. She’d tried to talk him out of it, said she could leave her car at the airport so she’d also have a way to get home, but he was insisting on taking her and picking her up. “Going all the way to Utah won’t be necessary,” she said. “I have to go to the jail alone, and that’s the hard part. As crowded as flights are these days, you probably wouldn’t even be able to get on the same plane. I’d rather you be here to check in on Branson and Alia, anyway. I think they’ll feel more comfortable knowing you’re close by.”
He rolled her beneath him, propping himself up with his elbows. “I’m happy to hang out with them all I can, but I hate sending you off alone.”
“I’ll get through it.” She smiled as though it wasn’t that big of a deal, but she hadn’t seen Gordon for two months. Her opinion of him had changed radically in that period. She’d accepted that he was a serial rapist, maybe even a murderer. And since he’d been arrested, she’d served him with divorce papers, refused to pay for his defense, taken the kids out of school and moved to California. She couldn’t imagine he was feeling good toward her, couldn’t help fearing how the conversation would go. He could get overly emotional, maybe even ugly; he had a temper like his mother’s. Even if that didn’t happen, the whole thing could be a waste of time and effort. Chances were better the charges would be dropped than she’d be able to garner some shred of evidence to support the theory that he was the one who kidnapped, and likely killed, Emma Ventnor.
They heard a noise in the hall and froze. One of the kids was up. Savanna assumed she’d hear Branson at her door. Gavin obviously anticipated the same thing, because he went into her bathroom, where he wouldn’t be seen, just in case. But they heard a toilet flush and then, after a few seconds, a few creaks and house noises and not much else.
Gavin walked back into the room. “I think he went to bed.”
“That he went to the bathroom is a good sign.”
“Have you alerted the babysitter that he might need help in the night?”
“I have. She said it won’t be a problem. And I doubt it will be. He’s only had one accident in the past ten days.”
“Still, with you gone... Would you rather I stay over than her?”
“I would. But things were different between us when I let Sullivan make the arrangements. At this point, I say we leave everything as it is and simply get through the next two days as best we can.”
“Okay. Just don’t worry. Everything’s going to work out.”
She was trying to be optimistic, but she knew how slim the chances really were. Allison March had directed Savanna to tell Gordon that the police had tire track evidence. They didn’t. But she was supposed to say that although what they initially found at the crime scene a year ago had been too faint, they’d figured out a way to do some computer enhancements and would soon be able to check that tread against the tires on the van.
March wanted to see what kind of reaction that would bring. So did Savanna. She just didn’t feel as if that was much to go in there with.
“He won’t give himself away,” she’d insisted when Detective March had called to do some roleplaying with her before bed last night. “He won’t suddenly admit that he had something to do with Emma Ventnor’s disappearance.”
“He doesn’t have to,” March insisted. “Just get him to give you some kind of story, explain what he did that day, why it couldn’t be him. The more details he offers, the better. If those details differ from the story he’s already given us, that’s something right there. We’ll do our fact checking, hopefully catch him in a few lies that we can probe further. He might accidentally say something he’d rather not. I’ve had perpetrators subconsciously lead me right where they didn’t want me to go, especially if they’re scared. I’m hoping that’s what’ll happen here.”
Savanna hoped the same thing. But if Gordon could deny DNA evidence, like he did back when they thought finding Theresa Spinnaker’s blood in his van would really mean something, she doubted a bluff about tire track impressions would have the power to rattle him.
28
Savanna had never been inside a jail. She’d seen the sheriff’s office where the jail was located on occasion, but not often. Although it was only eight minutes from the heart of Ne
phi, she rarely had reason to drive that far south. There was a Mormon church out that way and some gravel pits, but everything of any importance, at least to her, lay to the north, in the Provo/Orem or Salt Lake area. After Gordon was arrested, she almost could’ve ignored the fact that he was so close, except for the shock and all the publicity, of course.
Her palms were sweating on the steering wheel as she pulled into the parking lot. Somehow, Detective Sullivan had made a mistake thinking that visiting hours were in the morning. As it turned out, she couldn’t see Gordon until seven in the evening, so they’d had to make several adjustments, like renting her motel room for another night, having the caregiver for her children stay over again and asking Gavin to pick her up on Thursday instead of Wednesday.
Savanna wasn’t sure how Sullivan had blown it like that. He said he wasn’t sure, either, except he didn’t have to go to the jail during visiting hours and had just briefly glanced at the website. But arriving so early had given her far too much time to think. Because she hadn’t wanted to be seen, hadn’t wanted to bump into anyone she knew and be recognized, she’d stayed inside, waiting and worrying while the TV played program after program.
Now she was jittery because she’d been too nervous to go out and eat but had gone too long without food. The last thing she’d had was the free breakfast offered by the motel. She’d ducked into the dining area just before mealtime ended and grabbed a waffle, some yogurt and an apple, which she’d carried back to her room.
“This will only last fifteen minutes,” she promised herself.
As she turned off her engine, she rehearsed, once again, everything Detective Sullivan had told her in their little coaching session last night. Just get him talking. Get him to commit to a sequence of events. Express some doubt. Provoke him into trying to reassure or convince you. With any luck, he’ll offer some kind of proof that he could not have been involved.
They were hoping he’d trip himself up, of course. That they would be able to disprove whatever he said and catch him in his own words. But if it went the other way, and he could prove he wasn’t responsible in the Emma Ventnor case, where would that leave Savanna? Sullivan hadn’t been able to find any new evidence on the three rapes. Barring a miracle, the DA would drop the charges, and soon. They’d been stalling, hoping her visit might make all the difference. If it didn’t, Gordon would go free.
She shuddered at the thought. God help me.
Her phone signaled an incoming text as she got out. You’ve got this.
Gavin. She’d spoken to him several times since she’d left. He always tried to reassure her.
There now. Going in. Wish me luck. She’d spent part of the time waiting in the motel room reading up on what to expect when visiting an inmate, but the Juab County Jail was such a small facility—capable of housing only fifty or so inmates—that she didn’t have to put her purse and other personal belongings in a locker, go through a metal detector or suffer an invasive pat-down. She merely waited in line behind ten other people, filled out a visitation form, provided her ID and allowed her purse to be searched. After that, she was admitted into a nonsecure area to wait her turn.
Problem was, the jail had only two visitation rooms, and each visitation could last as long as twenty minutes. Just what I need—another hour and forty minutes to wait...
She stared up at a television mounted on the wall. There was no sound, just subtitles, but it was all she had to help pass the time. She didn’t care to talk to the others who were waiting to get in. She was far too nervous for small talk.
Fortunately, some of those who went ahead of her didn’t take up all of their allotted time. It was only an hour before she was taken back to a small cubicle where she’d be allowed to speak with Gordon, when he arrived, via telephone while separated by a piece of Plexiglas.
Her heart began to pound as she sat down. She could feel each distinct thump in her throat. Not only was she frightened by what he’d done—what she now saw him to be—she was terrified of what he might do when he was released.
Savanna tried to even out her breathing, to settle down. She needed to be able to think straight. But the longer she waited, the more anxious she became. Where was he?
For a few seconds, she thought he might be refusing her visit. The way they’d gotten along, on the whole, over the past several months, even before he’d been arrested, she could understand why he might. But then she saw him, wearing the standard orange jumpsuit issued to all county inmates.
He looked like he’d lost some weight. He’d definitely lost a lot of color. Or maybe it was the lights that hummed overhead that made him look so washed-out. They seemed to cast everything in a bluish tint.
He didn’t smile when their eyes met. He stared at her for several seconds. Then he sat down and picked up the phone.
Savanna claimed the handset on her side of the glass. “You don’t seem happy to see me,” she said.
“You haven’t been supportive since I’ve been in here.”
“I put some money on your commissary account. That’s not supportive?”
“I’ve been in jail for two months, Savanna. What else have you done, except make everything worse?”
She gripped the phone tighter. After the letters she’d sent, she’d thought he might be more conciliatory, more hopeful of putting their marriage back together. Now she knew that was not the case, she had to prepare herself for a combative twenty minutes. That changed things, gave her even less leverage. “The past two months have been pretty crummy for me, too.”
“Until you fell into the sweet, loving arms of Gavin Turner, right?”
Savanna froze. “That was nothing,” she lied.
“You fucked him. I wouldn’t call that nothing.”
She loved Gavin, which was far more significant. But even if she were willing to divulge that, Gordon wouldn’t understand because he had no idea what true love meant, didn’t seem to possess the capacity for love.
She couldn’t let on, regardless. There was too much riding on this meeting. “A onetime thing.”
He leaned toward the glass. “Are you sure? My mother said you live on the same street. It’s just the two of you out in the middle of nowhere. That provides a hell of a lot of opportunity.”
When she’d mentioned Gavin, Savanna had been saying whatever she could to get a rise out of Gordon, as she’d been instructed to do. But it had been a mistake brought on by nerves and emotion to mention his name, and that mistake had been compounded when her mother-in-law wrecked into Gavin’s truck, thus becoming familiar not only with his first name but his last and where he lived. “Are we really going to do this?” she asked. “Make this about how I’ve wronged you?”
“What have I ever done?” he said, but then he smiled as if he found that to be quite the clever joke.
His reaction was so out of sync with what the situation called for that Savanna could only gape at him. He wasn’t distraught that he’d harmed innocent people, or upset by what he’d been through or even relieved that he’d be getting out. He considered this a game, of sorts, was not only proud of what he’d done but that he was going to get away with it. He thought he’d outsmarted everyone. That the game was almost over.
It was her job to keep it in play, or he would get away with everything.
She curled the fingernails of her free hand into her palm. “So are you going to sign the divorce papers?”
“Aha! Now we get to the real reason you’ve finally shown up.”
That wasn’t the reason, but she could understand why he’d find it much more believable than the reconciliation she’d tried to establish in those letters. “You thought I’d simply wait until you got around to it?”
“What’s the rush?”
“I’d rather not have a rapist in my life. That’s the rush.”
He started laughing. “Y
ou deserve to be raped yourself, or worse.”
“You think it’s funny to talk like that?”
“It’s funny to imagine it. It’s also funny to think you believed a few letters making nice and a hundred dollars on my commissary account were going to make me forget everything else.”
“What reason do you have to hang on to me, Gordon? You obviously don’t love me.”
She thought he’d at least mention the kids, but he didn’t. “It’s not about love. It’s about money.”
“We were barely able to pay our bills every month. The only money I have is what’s left of my inheritance.”
“So? I deserve a big chunk of that.”
“How do you figure?” she asked.
“For years I made more than you did, which means I contributed more.”
“That isn’t true! I took care of the house and kids. You never lifted a finger to help. What kind of a dollar amount should we attach to all the child-rearing, cooking and cleaning I did while you were out attacking women?”
“I’m not attaching any dollar amount to it, and neither will the judge.”
She sat back and folded her arms. “I see.”
“You see what?”
“You still think you’re getting out.”
At last, that smug expression slid from his face. “I am getting out. You’re kidding yourself if you don’t believe it. My attorney told me yesterday that the DA has no evidence left, none that will result in a conviction. He’d be a fool to proceed. I’m surprised he hasn’t already dropped the charges.”
Savanna was the reason the DA hadn’t acted yet, and she knew it. “They might not have the evidence they need on the three rapes, but they’re getting what they need on Emma Ventnor.”
He gave her a speculative look. “What are you talking about?”
“They have tire impression evidence.”
“No, they don’t. If they had that, I’d have heard about it by now. Emma went missing a year ago.”
