“Vintage Savvy,” Susan said, rolling her eyes. “Optimistic to the end.”
But Savannah was shaking her head. “This is just the beginning. Once Meggie’s back, we’ll have manpower on our side. Local police, state police, FBI—they’ll all be involved. I don’t care how professional those kidnappers are, somewhere they’ll slip up, and when they do, we’ll be waiting.” She paused. “If only Will would let us call in help now.” Then she shivered, looked around at the somber, concrete walls, and muttered beneath her breath, “I’ve had enough of this basement.” Rubbing her upper arms with her hands, she headed for the stairs.
***
An hour later, she sat behind her desk looking over the list of convicts who had been released from prison during the last six months. She found it depressing.
Some of her favorites had hit the streets—a bank robber, a drug pusher, a pimp, the mastermind of a stolen-car ring. None of those on the list had ever tried his hand at kidnapping, but she was sure that there were half a dozen who would have been willing to give it a shot if the jackpot were high enough. As a precaution, and because she felt she could safely do so without risk to Megan, she called a friend in the parole office. He agreed to check on the whereabouts of several of the more dubious parolees.
That done, she sat back for a minute and studied the list again. She was notified each time someone she had seen convicted got out, but she usually stashed the notices in a corner or under piles of papers. They made her nervous.
She’d had her share of threats. It was common for defendants to shout things at prosecutors, particularly when a prosecutor had been either unusually powerful, dramatic, or effective in the pit. When the prosecutor was a woman, things were worse.
Paul had always told her to ignore the threats, and she had. She was the optimist, the good guy who wore a white hat, rode a white horse, and had the law on her side. To date, she had never had a problem aside from the periodic fear that hit her. She could ignore the notices that were sent to her. She could stash them safely out of sight. They registered nevertheless in the corner of her mind.
“Got a minute, Savannah?” came a voice from the door.
Savannah looked up. After a disoriented second, she focused on Arnie Watts and took a steadying breath. “Sure, Arnie. Come on in.”
But he hesitated. “Everything okay?”
Pushing the list aside, she forced out a smile. “Sure.” She motioned him in with a small wave, then dropped her gaze to the folders he carried. “The exhibits for the arson case?”
Arnie crossed the floor and put them on her desk. “Yup. I want to make sure they’re right. We don’t need any surprises.”
Savannah looked over the material, but everything was in order in each folder. “How about the jury pool?”
“I was told I’d see the list later today.”
“Bring it here when you get it. I want to take a look.” The phone rang. Pushing a button, she took up the receiver. “Yes, Janie?”
“Detective Monroe is calling about the house-break business in Wakefield. Do you want to take it?”
“Tell him to hang on. I’ll be right there.” She held the receiver to her shoulder while she finished up with Arnie. “Jury selection will probably take most of Monday. On the chance it goes faster, I’m spending Sunday here working on my opening argument. I’d like to see Brady again before we put him on the stand. He’s the fire inspector. His testimony is crucial, but he comes across wishy-washy. I think we should prepare him a little more. He may be okay on direct, but he’s apt to fall apart on cross-examination. Can you do it?”
“No sweat,” Arnie said and turned to leave. “And I’m free all weekend. If you think of anything else, just call.”
Smiling her thanks, Savannah punched the button on her telephone panel and switched gears to deal with Detective Monroe. By the time she was done with him, Paul was on the line, calling from his car en route to the airport and a regional attorneys general conference, wanting to know the latest on the kidnapping. By the time she was done with him, her father was waiting on the other line.
“Hi, Dad,” she called lightly into the phone.
The voice at the other end was not as light. “You are one very difficult lady to reach, Savannah. I’ve been trying you for two days now, but you come home late and leave early. Where is Susan?”
Savannah grimaced. “Didn’t she call you?” She had specifically asked Susan to do that.
“She left a message with Mrs. Fritz that she’d be gone overnight. That was on Tuesday afternoon, and I haven’t heard from her since. I’d say that’s damned inconsiderate of her.”
“She’s a big girl, Dad.”
“But I worry. She hasn’t been behaving well lately. For all I know she’s off somewhere getting drunk, and if that’s so, I’ll tell you right now that I have no intention of going after her. I’ve had to fetch her from parties once too often. It’s embarrassing.”
“She’s going through a rough time.”
“Is that your excuse for it?” He made a gruff sound. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You always did make excuses for her. Why do you do it, Savannah? There you are, straight as an arrow, with a job and lots of friends, and she’s doing nothing.Nothing.”
Savannah touched a tender spot on her forehead. “Last time we talked, you weren’t thinking too highly of either my job or my friends.”
“You know I don’t approve of your working, and I certainly wouldn’t choose your friends for my own, but still you have them.” His tone turned imperious. “Why doesn’t Susan?”
