“… glad you could join us. We’ll be tapping into the news at the top of the hour, then Jared Snow will be here for your pleasure. I’ll see y’again tomorrow evening at six. Melissa Stuart for 95.3 FM, WCIC Providence, kickin’ in for the night with Holly Dunn…”
With the release of the mike button and a shift of the slide, her voice gave way to music. After flicking another switch, she removed the headphones, grabbed a pile of notes she had nearby, and headed for the door.
Jared was already moving to take her place, carrying an armload of carts he’d scooped from a shelf. “Thanks, hon,” he said, holding the door for her and then passing through it himself. It swung shut behind him. Making straight for the cart rack, he began removing tapes, tossing them into a pile, replacing them with those he’d brought in.
“Want some pizza?” Melissa asked Savannah. “There’s plenty of it. It may be getting cold, but it’s good.”
Taking her eyes away from Jared, Savannah smiled her thanks, but shook her head.
“Then at least take your coat off. You’re staying, aren’t you?”
Savannah shot another glance at Jared, who seemed oblivious to her presence, and sighed. “For a little while, I guess.” Tucking her gloves in her pocket, she shrugged out of the coat and laid it on the desk chair nearby. She set her briefcase on top of the coat, but it promptly slid off. So she knelt to retrieve it, settled it more securely, then straightened to find Jared staring at her. Actually, he was staring at her legs, then her thighs, then her breasts. By the time his gaze reached her eyes, she was trembling inside, but before she could decide whether he was pleased with what he saw, he went back to his work.
Tucking her hands in the pockets of her hip-length knit blazer, which matched her navy knit dress, she waited.
Melissa, who had been stowing her papers in a file cabinet, turned to Rick. “I’m set, babe. Want to go?”
Rick answered by drawing his lanky frame from the desktop on which he had been lounging, reaching for two bulky parkas that had been stashed in a large wire basket on the floor, and tossing Melissa hers. She pulled it on, then went to the glass and knocked. When Jared looked up, she waved. He acknowledged her departure with a nod and returned to his work.
Passing Savannah, she said, “Remind him to eat. He forgets sometimes.” Then, with Rick close behind, she left.
Savannah felt something protective curl through her, and she looked more closely at Jared. He was lean, not thin. She could see the fine muscle tone in his thighs as he knelt before the cart rack. He was solidly built. He had substance.
Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the ceiling. From there, she looked at the walls, on which were tacked an assortment of posters, photographs, calendars, and notes. Then she looked at the telephone and thought of calls that came into the station. In the next breath she thought of Megan.
A small shudder of frustration and fear shook her. She told herself that Megan was a survivor, that she would be all right. But she had been gone for two days. Savannah didn’t want to guess at how she was being treated, but in idle moments like these, she couldn’t help but wonder.
Sensing the beginnings of a quaking inside, she turned anxiously back to Jared. The sight of him helped. He was calm and confident. Looking at him, she felt the same comfort that came with the sound of his voice on the radio.
But another voice spoke now. It was the news.
Jared met her gaze. Taking in her troubled expression, he went to the door. “Want to come in?”
She wanted that more than anything just then. Nodding, she joined him before he could change his mind. When the door to the booth was securely closed behind her, he took a seat at the control board, put the headphones around his neck, and faced her.
“We have three minutes before I’m on,” he warned, but he didn’t seem annoyed that she was there. Rather, he looked curious, even a little concerned.
She started talking. “Yesterday morning, the wife of a prominent Providence businessman was kidnapped. A ransom note was left, but there’s been no follow-up and we’ve been over a good part of the county, looking.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Right about now, we’re stymied. So we’re stretching our imagination.”
“Do you want to sit down?” he asked.
She guessed that she looked pale. But she shook her head. “I’m okay.”
“What can I do to help?”
His gentle tone was a help in itself, but she had more to ask. “The ransom note was strangely worded. It said, ‘Kick in a cool three million.’ I couldn’t help but think of WCIC. The sound is the same.”
“It’s our thing. Country in the city. CIC. Kickin’ in this, kickin’ up that, kickin’ back to something else.”
“I know,” she said, then stopped short.
“All my DJs use it, and I can personally vouch for each and every one. None of them would even remotely be involved in a kidnapping.”
Though she said nothing, she looked awkward.
“But you were wondering whether we’ve gotten calls from any weirdos lately?”
She released a soft breath. She hadn’t mentioned a word about the station to Paul or Sammy or Hank for fear they would think she was nuts to check it out. But Jared’s face held no ridicule.
