“I’m calling on official business,” she declared. “It’s imperative that I speak with Mr. Snow as soon as possible.”
“If you leave a name and number, I’ll see that he gets it.”
With no promise that the call would be returned. “That’s not good enough,” she argued. “This is important.”
“Your name, please.”
Savannah held her breath. Closing her eyes, she realized that she must have sounded exactly like one of numerous other fans who no doubt phoned the radio station each week in search of Jared Snow. Her cheeks went pink. The hand that tightly gripped the telephone receiver very carefully replaced it in its cradle.
Mortified, she sat down behind her desk, bowed her head, and pressed a fingertip to her lips. It was a while before she regained enough composure to resume work.
***
“WCIC Providence, may I help you?”
The voice was different this time, as Savannah had hoped it would be. The first time she’d called at four in the afternoon. Now it was seven. She had counted on the daytime receptionist having been replaced by the evening one.
“Yes,” she said with renewed confidence, “I’d like to speak with Jared Snow.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Snow isn’t able to take the phone.”
“Is he there?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. One part of her had known that it wouldn’t be easy. The other part had dreamed. “I’m calling on an important matter,” she said calmly. “If you would be so kind as to tell me when I might reach Mr. Snow, I’d be glad to call back.”
“It would probably be better if you gave me your name and number. I’d be sure to see that he received them.”
Determined to maintain her composure this time, Savannah said in the same cool and official-sounding voice, “I really do have to talk with him.”
There was barely a pause on the other end. “I’m sure you do. If you’d give me your name and number—”
“The situation is urgent.”
“Does Mr. Snow know you?”
“No, but he may have some information I need. This could well be a matter of life and death.”
“Your name and number?”
She nearly gave it. No one at the station knew about the kidnapping. She wouldn’t be endangering Megan by identifying herself. But something held her back. One part of her wasn’t sure she should be calling at all. That part wasn’t sure of her reasons for calling.
“Hello?” came the voice at the other end of the line.
Savannah quietly hung up the phone. Sinking lower in her chair, she propped her elbow on its arm and pressed her cheek to her fist. She actually looked at her door to make sure it was completely shut. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone in the office to have witnessed that call. Or the earlier one. Timidity was not part of the image she tried to uphold. For that matter, even privately she didn’t like to think of herself as being timid. But the lines were blurred here.
One part of her was unsure about calling. The rest of her desperately wanted to speak with Jared Snow.
***
She didn’t try to phone again. Instead, she kept busy at the office, then stopped at the house to see how Will and the others were doing. No one there was happy with the silence, and as each hour passed, the tension rose.
Though Savannah had had the benefit of distractions through the day, she felt as anxious as everyone else. Despite all her attempts to find clues as to either the identity of the kidnappers or their whereabouts, she had come up empty-handed. She felt she had let Will down. She felt she had let Megan down. She felt she’d let Susan and Sam and Hank down.
Discouraged, she stayed with them as long as she could, then drove home. It was nearly eleven o’clock when she pulled into her garage, but rather than leave the car and go into the townhouse, she sat in the dark and thought.
She didn’t want to go inside. It was too quiet and lonely there. She had work to do, but she felt too emotionally spent to do it.
