Savannah had plenty of experience evading pointed questions from the press. She just wasn’t sure whether this time around she could do it with her usual aplomb. It was going to be a challenge.
“Tell them,” Anthony went on, “that we’ve been monitoring the case from the start but that, to some extent, we’ve had to honor the kidnappers’ demand that the police not be brought in. You can even go so far as to say that you have a tape recording of the voice of one of the men.”
Savannah shook her head. “The tape is practically worthless.”
“So? At least it will sound like we have something.”
“But we don’t. The voice was distorted, and the lab hasn’t come up with a thing by way of identifying background noise.”
“Who has to know? Come on, Savannah. You know how the game is played. We’re not lying. We do have a tape. So we let people draw their own conclusions about its usefulness, and if their conclusions are wrong, that’s their problem, not ours.”
Savannah was uneasy with that. “Supposing, just supposing one or both of the kidnappers is still in the area and follows coverage of what we say. How would they react to news that there’s a tape? Would they get nervous and run? Or would they get angry?”
“What difference does it make?” Anthony asked. “If they run, at least they’ll be smoked out. And if they’re angry, so what? They wouldn’t dare try anything more.”
She wasn’t sure she believed that, but then, she suspected she had imagined Megan’s fear so well that it had become her own. She couldn’t seem to control the flashing images of a naked Megan tied spread-eagle to a bed, being raped again and again. More than once, she had seen her own face there instead of Megan’s. It was foolish, she knew, but it did unsettle her.
Paul studied her face. “Why don’t we call a press conference for two o’clock? At this point, I think speculation may be getting out of hand. That has to stop. If we make our own statement, we’ll have some control over what hits the news.” His look became gentle. “Want me to handle it?”
Paul rarely offered to do something that was not in his best political interest. She appreciated the considerate gesture, as a sign that he had an understanding of the emotional strain she was under. She also knew he was paying her back for the loyalty she had shown him over the years.
With a sad smile, she said, “Thanks, Paul, but I’ll do it. My relations with the press are as good now as they’ve ever been. Yours aren’t.”
Paul chuckled dryly.
Anthony went further with a snort. “Hammerschmidt is waiting to screw us on page one of theJournal.You can bet he’ll be watching this case with a magnifying glass.”
“I can handle Hammerschmidt,” Savannah said. “I haven’t spent a Tuesday night a month for the past five months buying him beers for nothing.”
Anthony smirked. “Was that the extent of it?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you stop at beer?” His snare drum roll picked up tempo. “Or did you throw in a little something extra to sweeten the pot?”
Savannah bristled. “I’ll forget you said that.”
“Don’t. It’s worth considering. You’ve got something that Paul and I don’t. Maybe if you tried using it once in a while—”
“That’s enough,” Paul said and rose from his chair.
But Savannah held up a hand to him as she faced Anthony. “One of the reasons I have the credibility I do is that I don’t sell myself that way. Sure, I have drinks with the guys. I consider it good PR to make myself accessible, informally, to the press once in a while. I laugh at their jokes, listen to their complaints. I pass on little tidbits of news that they’d have picked up by themselves if they’d been on the ball. They like me because I spend that time with them, and because I do that, they’re more likely to do me a favor when I call. Notoncethough, notoncehave I done anything improper.”
Anthony’s grin was snide. “Did I hit a raw nerve?”
“You hit them all the time.”
“Just wanted to see if you’re on your toes. You were looking a little subdued there for a while.”
“Not subdued. Tired. I had three hours of sleep last night—this morning—and your incessant drumming doesn’t help.”
“Are you sure you’re up for a press conference?” Paul asked.
She drew herself very straight. “I’m up for it. This is my case, Paul. I intend to see it through. When we find out who did this to Megan, I want to be the one who prosecutes.”
Anthony had his arms crossed over his chest and was seesawing the pencil against his sleeve. “I wouldn’t want to be in those guys’ shoes.”
“How could you be?” Savannah asked. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one appropriate punishment for men who do to a woman what those two did to Megan.” She dropped a pointed gaze to his fly. “But you haven’t got ’em to start with.” Ignoring the sudden snap of the pencil, she looked at Paul. “Two o’clock. I’ll be there.” Then she turned and left the office.
