The bed was unmade, but otherwise the room was immaculate, which was surprising. As a schoolgirl, Megan had been a slob. Will was the neat one of the pair. Either he was doing the cleaning now, she mused, or Megan had turned over a new leaf.
Feeling like an intruder, she forced herself into the room. She noticed small things—the books on the nightstands, the gold earrings on Megan’s, a pair of glasses on the mantel, cold ash in the fireplace. Stopping at the entrance to the master bath, she couldn’t help but smile. She knew that Megan adored this room. It was huge, the by-product of an older, smaller bathroom and what had once been a gentleman’s dressing room. The walls were lined with sinks and mirrors, the ceilings with recessed lights. Large plants were everywhere, and in the center of the room was a jacuzzi.
Savannah flicked the wall switch that turned the radio on. The sound of Reba McEntire’s voice filled the room. Savannah listened for a minute, a small smile creasing her lips. The song drew to an end. Her pulse skipped a beat. She waited.
But the voice that followed was not the one her senses were conditioned to hear. It was louder, less intimate, more boisterous than gentle.
“You’re listening to cool country, 95.3 FM, WCIC Providence. This is Joseph Allan Johnson taking you through the afternoon hours. It’s three-oh-four now and warmer than it’s been, thirty-seven degrees and drizzling outside our studio. I’ve been advised that there’s been a three-car accident on I-95 southbound near the 195 interchange, so if you’re leaving the city early, you’ll want to take an alternate route. We’ll keep you informed of the progress on that one. 95.3 FM, WCIC Providence, for a little country in the city. At three-oh-four, we’ve got a five flush coming up without a commercial break, kicking off with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.…”
Feeling empty, Savannah turned the radio off and left the bathroom. She went to the hall, paused at the railing overlooking the foyer, glanced back at the bedroom, then down again. The master bedroom suite was almost directly above the library. If only Will had heard something. If only he had set the alarm. If only he would say yes to bringing in the FBI.
She paused at the top of the stairs, then went back to peek into the one room she hadn’t inspected. It was smaller than the others. There was no more than a desk, several chairs, a file cabinet, and a lamp. The desk was strewn with official-looking papers. It seemed that Will did work at home. But why didn’t he use the library downstairs, and why, fastidious man that he was, did he leave things in such a mess?
She went downstairs and for several minutes stood at the bottom of the staircase. If Megan had managed to escape her kidnappers and reach this spot, would Will have heard her?
“Did you find anything?”
Startled, she swung around to see Will at the head of the hallway that led to the kitchen. “Uh, no. Actually, there was nothing. No great inspiration.” She paused, thought, frowned. “Will, why wasn’t the alarm on?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I suppose I could say that Meggie turns it off when she’s up so she won’t accidentally set it off, and that’s probably what I will tell the insurance company.” He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. “The fact is that it’s broken. It hasn’t worked for a couple of months. The repairs will require several thousand dollars’ worth of rewiring. I figured I’d let it go until the business took an upswing.” Savannah knew the admission caused him pain.
“Several thousand versus three million. Looks like you bet on the wrong horse.” She tried to inject a lighthearted tone, but bitter shock shone through.
His laugh was the saddest she had ever heard. “That’s nothing new. I’ve been doing it for years. If I had a knack for picking the winners, the business wouldn’t be dying now.”
“Why haven’t you hired someone to help?”
“An outside consultant?” His anguished chuckle touched Savannah. “Because they’re expensive.”
Savannah could not respond. It wasn’t her place to lecture, nor was she in the mood. The emotional strain of Megan’s kidnapping was beginning to get to her. She found it stressful to pretend otherwise.
“Well,” she sighed, “that’s neither here nor there right now.” She glanced toward the library. “Let me see if Sammy and Hank are ready for a lab pickup.” Just as she turned, Will started forward.
“Savannah?” He stopped short when she looked back at him. “I told you about the alarm system because I want you to know the truth. If anyone can help me get Meggie back, you can.”
Savannah was not a genius or a miracle worker, and she resented his placing the bulk of the burden for Megan’s return on her shoulders. But when she opened her mouth to argue, he rushed on.
“There are two other things you should know.” He paused, looking faraway and very disturbed for a minute. When he spoke again, there was a faint tremor in his voice. “I know that I sometimes give the impression of being one-dimensional, but I’m not as dumb as people think. I don’t know what to do to save my business, but I do know enough to worry about it.” He paused again, then, as though realizing that the faster he did this the better, he continued. “I take sleeping pills. That’s why I sleep soundly. It’s a legitimate prescription given by my doctor. I can show you the bottle. You can check it out. But there’s no point in your wondering why I didn’t hear anything last night. I never hear anything at night. I’m totally out of it.”
“Oh, Will,” she murmured sympathetically, but he was intent on finishing what he had begun.
“The other thing is that Megan’s gun is gone.”
She felt herself pale. “Gun?”
“I’ve always been worried about her safety. For the same reason that I took out insurance against kidnapping, I bought her a gun to keep in her nightstand. It’s a small thing. I’ve looked all over for it, but it’s not here. She must have taken it downstairs with her.”
“Would she have heard the glass break andthengone downstairs?” Savannah shook her head, answering the question herself. “No. Meggie wouldn’t be that dumb. She’d have woken you, or called the police.”
“I figured that, too. I think she just took the gun with her when she went down to read. Maybe she’s been doing it ever since the alarm system broke. Maybe she had a premonition.” He ran a weary hand around the back of his neck. “Christ, I just don’t know!”
Savannah was thinking of the reason why she had never wanted to carry a gun herself. God only knew, she had cause. She had sent some violent men to prison, and more than once, in a courtroom confrontation, she had been threatened. But she had always figured that a violent man would have the gun out of her hand and aimed at her before she could muster the wherewithal to pull the trigger.
She feared for Megan.
“I think,” she said quietly, “that I’d like to share this with Sammy.” Without another word, she went into the library, closing the door behind her and leaning back against the wood.
Hank spared her a quick glance. “We’re almost ready to ship the first of this to the lab.”
