Right Where We Belong (Silver Springs #4)(103)

Savanna prayed she hadn’t. This could be the only hope of justice for Meredith Caine, Theresa Spinnaker, Jeannie West, Emma Ventnor and who could say how many others.

Savanna’s heart raced as she took several pictures. She was tempted to send them to Sullivan right away. But she wasn’t sure they’d make a difference, and she held off in case he tried to stop her. She didn’t want him to know what she was doing until she’d also searched the house.

Since Gordon could have stuck something above the rafters or in one of the old, warped cupboards along the right side, she decided to stay and search the garage instead of waiting until tomorrow for that, too. She knew she might not have a better opportunity. The opening faced the neighbor’s backyard, and that neighbor could have kids or animals who would be out during the day. The longer she stayed, the more she ran the risk that the neighbor might get up to go to the bathroom and see her light bouncing around. To avoid that, she checked the garage door situation, found there was no electric opener attached and she could close it manually.

Apparently, it wasn’t broken. Dorothy had just been too lazy or unconcerned to lower it the last time she’d driven her car, probably because she didn’t have anything to protect. There were no bikes or tools in her garage or anything like that. Even her car wasn’t worth much.

Once Savanna had the privacy to use her flashlight without fear that it might be spotted, she pulled on the gloves she’d also purchased at Walmart and looked through the car.

She found nothing unusual. Cigarette butts and smashed cigarette cartons, empty coffee cups, food wrappers. There was a letter from Gordon on the floorboards of the passenger seat that Savanna took a few minutes to read, but it didn’t give away anything important. Gordon would know better than that, since all prison mail was monitored. He was merely telling his mother that he needed more money, that his cellmate was a “dick,” that his defense was “shit” and would never work, that Savanna would come around eventually, to keep working on her (Savanna had to roll her eyes at that) and not to talk to the police at all or they’d take something she said and “make it into something it wasn’t.”

When she finished the letter, Savanna sat back in the bucket seat and tried to think. She had pictures of the accident, but what if they didn’t show anything? What if the collision with Gavin had indeed obliterated the evidence of what had come before? She needed to find something that connected him to one of the victims he couldn’t explain away, like his bloody clothes. Where would he have hidden them?

Not in the garage, she decided. If Dorothy was so complacent that she didn’t close the door, anyone could gain access to the things in here. Her house would be a safer bet. But it was so small. Savanna couldn’t imagine Gordon being stupid enough to hide anything under his bed or anywhere else his mother might easily run across it...

The basement was a strong possibility, though. Basically a dank, dark hole in the ground, lit by a single bulb dangling from the ceiling, it had to be filled with all kinds of spiders, but Savanna knew Dorothy kept some storage down there—Christmas decorations and such—because she’d seen it, had helped carry up boxes on occasion. The basement wasn’t a pleasant place to go, however, so other than grabbing something from that small pile, if she decided to decorate, Dorothy wouldn’t stay down there long. Savanna couldn’t imagine she’d ever bother to check the creepy perimeter, especially in one particular section, an area maybe eight feet by eight feet, where there wasn’t even room to stand up all the way...

If Gordon had hidden anything at Dorothy’s, he’d hide it there, Savanna decided. He’d feel it was safe in such a spot. He’d also have fairly easy access to it, which could be important to him if it was a trophy or something else he prized due to the memories attached.

That sounded plausible, but she could be looking for something that didn’t even exist. Maybe he didn’t take trophies. And maybe he’d washed his bloody clothes while his mother was at work and worn them again, or burned them in her fireplace.

Savanna closed her eyes. She was an amateur, and she was searching for a needle in a haystack. Was she being foolhardy for even trying?

Her phone vibrated in her hand.

She turned it over to see that Gavin had texted her. You’re scaring the shit out of me. Are you out yet? How’d it go?

She sent him the pictures. Then she searched the rest of the garage. It was filled with nothing but junk, stacks of old newspapers and magazines and worthless items Dorothy had collected from yard sales.

I’m out now. She sent that text to Gavin as she hurried down the alley and around the next block to where she’d left her rental car.

Did you find anything?

Nothing. Just the damage on her car. She must not have had the money for the deductible, like I said.

That may be our saving grace.

We can hope.

Are you really going back in the morning?

She got into her rental car and locked the door. I know it seems hopeless. But I have to try.

How will you know when she’s gone?

I’ll drive down the alley and look for her Celica. She leaves the garage door open, so it’s easy to tell when she’s home.

You need to get some sleep, Savanna. I know you’ve been too anxious to get much rest lately.

It’ll be another short night, she wrote. But I can’t let Gordon get away with what he’s done, not without a fight. I owe it to his victims. I owe it to my children. And I owe it to myself.