“You’ve got this, Savvy,” Ellie said affectionately. “Plus, from what I hear, babies are great excuses for anytime you do something silly. According to my sister, all you have to say is, ‘Oops, pregnancy brain!’ ”
I laughed. “Good idea.”
Ellie gave me a big hug. “I love you. Call me if you need anything. But you’ll be great—I just know it.”
I tried to stop my right leg from pumping up and down at top speed under the table.
I had just finished presenting our marketing timeline alongside Sam and Meredith at the head of the conference table. Pedro Torres, an attractive Spanish man in his early forties, sat three seats away from me, clicking the top of his pen over and over as he listened attentively.
Now all of us, including his entourage, were staring expectantly at the chef as we waited for his reaction.
Click click click click click.Torres’s eyes darted around the room, briefly landing on me before coming to rest on Meredith, who was still standing. Finally, he put his pen down on the table. “I like it,” he said simply.
I let out the breath I’d been holding and stifled a grin as I heard the collectivewhooshof air from everyone around me.We did it!I screamed inside my head, trying to keep my face as stoic and professional as I could on the outside. I wanted to run through the hallways of the Blackwell Agency, whooping and hollering in victory, but of course I’d have to wait until I got home to do that.
“What’s the first step?” he asked in his heavy Spanish accent.
Meredith nodded. “If you agree, we can launch Day One of the schedule as soon as tomorrow, hit the ground running, and then proceed with the schedule from there. Each day, we will have proofs for the next day’s action items to your team by threePM, for any changes and final approval by the next morning.”
Suddenly we heard a commotion from just outside the conference room. Meredith’s face went white as a sheet as she stared through the glass on the opposite wall.
I whirled my head around.Oh no.Three police officers were marching down the hall toward the conference room. Our young receptionist trailed behind them, looking completely helpless.
Please don’t let them be headed into this room. Please, God, please.Our meeting had been going so well up to that point. We were almost finished—whatever it was, couldn’t it wait?
No such luck. The officer in front pushed open the door to the conference room. His eyes searched all the faces in the room—and landed on mine.
Oh, dear God.I felt like all the blood was draining from my body, leaving me with a deep, hollow chill.
“Savannah Mitchell?” asked the male officer, looking right at me. All heads in the room whirled in unison to face my direction.
All that came out was a squeak. “Wha—”
“Please stand up,” the officer barked. The other two officers with him—one male and one female—each grabbed one of my arms and lifted me out of my chair. I could see the moment when all three noticed my swollen belly. Their grips on my arms immediately loosened. I vaguely heard the male officer push the button on his shoulder radio and speak into it, something about “the suspect” being heavily pregnant.
The head officer turned back to me. “Ms. Mitchell, you are under arrest. I need to ask—are you carrying any concealed weapons?”
“What? No!” My head darted back and forth between the officers in confusion.
The female cop, who was still holding my right elbow, turned me around and pulled my wrists together behind my back—which was not easy, given my size. I felt the cold metal touch of handcuffs and heard a sliding, clicking noise as they locked into place. “Ow.” The muscles in my arm strained, causing my belly to protrude uncomfortably.
“I’m trying to be as gentle as I can, ma’am. Please stay still,” the female officer said into my ear.
“Is this about the baby shower? I know what Madison must have told you, but—”
“Ms. Mitchell, you have the right to remain silent,” the head officer cut me off. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law …” He continued to read me my rights.
I started to panic as I realized the unbelievable thing I’d feared all weekend was actually happening. My pulse quickened and my breathing turned shallow. “Please—wait! I didn’t do anything to Madison, I swear!” I squirmed in the officer’s grasp, which sent a shooting pain up my arm and into my shoulder. They ignored my protests; the head officer merely kept going, talking over me as he finished reading me my rights.
Finally, I locked eyes with Sam, which seemed to pull him out of his shocked, frozen state. He leapt out of his chair. “Someone please tell us what is going on. There must be some mistake.” The officers ignored him.
“Savannah Mitchell, you are under arrest for the assault and battery of Madison Hunter and are wanted for questioning in the disappearance of Jenna Martin,” the head officer—whose name badge readBARROWS—said loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear.
“Disappearance?” I gasped. “What are you talking about?”
“We’ll discuss all of this at the station, Ms. Mitchell.” He nodded to the other two officers. “Take her down to the squad car and pat her down.”
As the female officer started pulling me toward the door, I threw Sam a desperate look. “Sam, please—call my mom and my best friend, Ellie. They’re my emergency contacts in my HR file. Please!”
