Right Where We Belong (Silver Springs #4)(101)

He meant he’d rather be in his cell, dreaming of choking her. She understood the allusion, but he could easily claim he meant something else, so that did nothing to help the case against him. He hadn’t stated it such that the recording would shock or appall a jury. Even that brief touch to the neck, so meaningful a gesture to her, could be construed as though he just happened to be touching his neck.

Savanna was still hanging on to the phone when he hung up on his side and walked away.

Shit. She’d blown it, gotten nothing.

*

Gavin had been waiting to hear from Savanna for nearly four hours. He’d texted her and tried to call. He’d even checked in with Detectives March and Sullivan. They hadn’t heard anything, either. Sullivan said that not long after visiting hours, he’d driven by and didn’t see her car in the lot. He indicated it wasn’t at the motel, either.

Gavin didn’t hear back from Savanna until ten-thirty, which was eleven-thirty Utah time. “Are you okay?” he asked. Branson and Alia were in bed and the babysitter was watching TV, so he’d returned to his house for the night. He’d been sitting in his living room, watching the basketball playoff game he’d recorded earlier, pausing every so often to check his phone and try to reach her.

“I think so.”

She didn’t sound okay. She sounded rattled, upset. “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

He’d been lying down. Sitting up, he muted the television. “What happened? Why didn’t you call me right away?”

“I had my phone turned off.”

“While you were doing what?”

“Nothing. Driving.”

“Where?”

“Aimlessly.”

He let his breath go in a sigh. “It must not have gone well.”

“It didn’t,” she admitted, and he listened without comment as she repeated the conversation she’d had with Gordon.

“Damn,” he said when she was done.

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“So where are you now?” he asked.

“Driving aimlessly soon turned into a dedicated effort to reach Salt Lake as soon as possible. I couldn’t bear to stay another night in Nephi. I was going to catch the first flight out, come home right away instead of waiting until morning.”

“But...”

“But by the time I got here, it was too late. The last flight left at ten.”

“Does that mean you’re going to stay over in Salt Lake and catch your scheduled flight in the morning?”

“No. I need to get something later.”

He’d been so sure she’d say yes that he’d turned the game back on. “Wait, no?” He silenced the TV again. “Why would you need a later flight? I thought you were in a hurry to get out of there.”

“I was. I am. But I can’t face that Gordon will be getting out, know he’ll make our lives a living hell. I have to do something.”

“Like what?”

“He said if he wrecked into Emma Ventnor’s car there’d be damage on the van, right?”

“March told us it was a small enough dent that there might not be. That sort of thing happens all the time. That’s why she felt safe going with the fake tire track evidence.”

“I know, but the tire impression stuff didn’t seem to worry him, either.”

“So maybe he’s innocent.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You seem more certain now than you’ve been recently.”

“I vacillate. But when I saw him, I got the creepiest feeling. He did rape those women. It was almost as if he wanted me to know it—that he didn’t care enough to hide it from me anymore, since he felt he was no longer in danger of going to prison, and he knows I’m not interested in patching up our marriage. Someone who’s been wrongly accused wouldn’t act that way.”

“That concern goes well beyond us.”

“I know. But while I’ve been sitting here—”

“Where?”

“In the airport.”

“If all the planes to California have left, why are you still there?”

“I’ve been thinking, trying to figure out what to do.”

“There’s nothing more you can do.”

“There might be. Certain things have occurred to me. When Dorothy came to my house after Gordon was arrested, and I had to call the cops to have them take her away, there was some damage on the front right panel of her car. I didn’t think anything of it, because her car is a piece of junk, anyway, and the damage had been there for a while, but now I’m beginning to wonder how long ago that accident occurred.”

Gavin scooted forward. “You’re thinking Gordon might’ve been driving her car when he kidnapped Emma Ventnor?”

“It’s a possibility. He stayed with her every once in a while. Stands to reason if his van broke down—and it did give him some trouble last year, although I can’t recall the exact dates—he might have borrowed her car for the day.”

“Maybe the police need to take a look at it, see if they can find any paint transfer that might prove it was the one that collided with Emma’s.”

“Except she wrecked into you when she came out here, remember?”