PART THREESavannah
CHAPTER30
THE MAGISTRATE TOOKpity on me, being eight-and-a-half months pregnant. He released me on my own recognizance. I hadn’t even realized that being held in a cell was a possibility, which was frightening.
“You will be contacted shortly to schedule your arraignment. You are ordered to make yourself available for any additional questions the detectives may have. You are advised to consult an attorney, or you can request a public defender. You are prohibited from leaving the immediate area,” the man said as he handed papers to the officer babysitting me. With Robert no longer an option, I decided to ask for a public defender. The magistrate said one would contact me as soon as possible.
Once they allowed me my phone call, I got a hold of Ellie. She promised to leave work immediately and come pick me up. The officers returned my phone. When I tried to tell them I was staying with Ellie, they strongly advised me to stay at my own place so I was easy to find.
Outside, it was windy and raining. It felt appropriate, like the world was just as despondent as I was. It was hard not to feel like my life was over.
Ellie dropped me off at my place and said she would run over to hers to pack up my stuff for me and bring it back. I was relieved when she offered to stay the night with me so I wouldn’t be alone.
My apartment smelled stale from abandonment. I opened a kitchen window to let in some air, then flopped on the couch, numb and morose. I began scrolling through all the notifications and missed messages on my phone.
I started out by texting Sam. It was such a long story, it seemed impossible to sum up in a single text, but I tried. Seconds after pressing send, his face appeared on my screen, calling me.
“Savannah, oh my God.” He sounded breathless with sympathy. “I can’t believe this is happening to you.”
“You and me both,” I said, noting how detached I sounded. I had expelled so much desperation and emotion over the past week, and even more so over the past few hours, it seemed I had none left at the moment.
“What happens now?” he asked. As if I knew.
“Well, I’m waiting for the court to call me and schedule my arraignment. I requested a public defender, so hopefully one gets in touch soon.” I paused. “How did the rest of the meeting go after I left?” The tightness in my chest told me how scared I was to hear his answer.
Sam let out his breath in a quick whoosh. “It was … tense. Pedro Torres just got up and walked out. But his team checked in with Meredith before leaving and said we should proceed with the timeline as planned. So that’s what we’re doing, for now. Meredith redistributed everyone’s duties.”
“Has Meredith said anything else … about me?”
Sam paused. “No. I don’t think she wants to talk about it. She’s very … singularly focused right now. She doesn’t want anything to distract from the account. She’s under a lot of pressure.”
“Understandable,” I said in a small voice, and it was—but it hurt that my and my child’s well-being could be viewed as less important than a social media schedule.
“Well, I’d better get back in there—but please, take care of yourself, Savannah, and let me know how everything goes. I hope you find a good public defender.”
“Thanks.”
I took a few slow breaths, trying to tamp down the panic inside me. Even if a public defender could help me prove I wasn’t guilty of the assault, or of any connection to Jenna’s disappearance, would I even have a job to go back to? Meredith wouldn’t want any kind of negative attention on the Blackwell Agency as it landed its most high-profile account yet. But it was also completely unfair that something out of my control could end my job and maybe my career. This job was supposed to be my second chance. Would I ever get a third? What will I do for money if I lose my job? How will I support my child?
Feeling like a child myself, all I wanted was to hear my mom’s voice. I dialed her number. After I relayed everything that had happened, she promised to come into the city the next day and stay with me through the weekend, since—I’d completely forgotten—my baby shower was on Sunday. I hated hearing the fear in her voice, even as she did her best to stay positive.
“Keep your chin up,” she said. “You didn’t do anything wrong, and we’ll find a way to prove it.”
I smiled at her endless optimism, even in the face of such astounding adversity. “Thanks, Mom. See you tomorrow.”
Ellie came back shortly after with all my things and, bless her heart, she had even picked me up a smoothie on the way. My stomach growled—I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. As I took the first sip, my phone rang—it was the public defender assigned to my case. I put it on speaker so Ellie could follow along.
Half an hour later, I hung up, trying my hardest to think positively. The young man assigned to defend me, Alex Hirsch—whosaid he was twenty-three, but whose voice made him sound sixteen—seemed serious and determined, at least. He was intrigued by my story and seemed at least a little outraged on my behalf that I was being put through so much while at the same time preparing to be thrust into single motherhood. I tried not to panic when he said that, even if all that stuck was the Class A assault charge, that could still come with a big fine or up to a year in jail—or both.
He did have one good idea. He said he was going to contact my office building and Ellie’s apartment building to see if there was any security camera footage in either parking garage that might have caught someone planting the bloody lock of hair in my trunk. But considering all the moving pieces of this disaster that my life had become, I wasn’t sure that would be enough to help.
Not long after I hung up that call, the courthouse called to say my arraignment on the assault charge had been scheduled for eight-thirty the following Monday morning. My public defender confirmed he would be there with me and promised to keep in touch in the meantime in case there were any updates on my defense.
Ellie stayed with me until the next morning. Before heading out for work, she promised to take Monday off so she could be at my arraignment. All I could think of was how hard it would be to feel celebratory at my baby shower, with the arraignment the next morning hanging over me like a storm cloud, ready to unleash.
As soon as the door closed behind Ellie, I felt the weight of the past few days settle on my chest like a hundred-pound barbell. I sank onto the couch, weary. It wasn’t long before I drifted off to sleep.
I dreamt that a shadowy figure was chasing me with a butcher knife, shouting something in a language I couldn’t understand, though intuitively I knew the words meant “That’s my baby!” I opened my mouth to scream as the figure finally caught up withme and slashed at my belly with the butcher knife, trying to cut the baby out—but I was confused when the slashing knife sounded like a phone ringing as it ripped through my flesh.
