Right Where We Belong (Silver Springs #4)(98)

He rolled her beneath him, propping himself up with his elbows. “I’m happy to hang out with them all I can, but I hate sending you off alone.”

“I’ll get through it.” She smiled as though it wasn’t that big of a deal, but she hadn’t seen Gordon for two months. Her opinion of him had changed radically in that period. She’d accepted that he was a serial rapist, maybe even a murderer. And since he’d been arrested, she’d served him with divorce papers, refused to pay for his defense, taken the kids out of school and moved to California. She couldn’t imagine he was feeling good toward her, couldn’t help fearing how the conversation would go. He could get overly emotional, maybe even ugly; he had a temper like his mother’s. Even if that didn’t happen, the whole thing could be a waste of time and effort. Chances were better the charges would be dropped than she’d be able to garner some shred of evidence to support the theory that he was the one who kidnapped, and likely killed, Emma Ventnor.

They heard a noise in the hall and froze. One of the kids was up. Savanna assumed she’d hear Branson at her door. Gavin obviously anticipated the same thing, because he went into her bathroom, where he wouldn’t be seen, just in case. But they heard a toilet flush and then, after a few seconds, a few creaks and house noises and not much else.

Gavin walked back into the room. “I think he went to bed.”

“That he went to the bathroom is a good sign.”

“Have you alerted the babysitter that he might need help in the night?”

“I have. She said it won’t be a problem. And I doubt it will be. He’s only had one accident in the past ten days.”

“Still, with you gone... Would you rather I stay over than her?”

“I would. But things were different between us when I let Sullivan make the arrangements. At this point, I say we leave everything as it is and simply get through the next two days as best we can.”

“Okay. Just don’t worry. Everything’s going to work out.”

She was trying to be optimistic, but she knew how slim the chances really were. Allison March had directed Savanna to tell Gordon that the police had tire track evidence. They didn’t. But she was supposed to say that although what they initially found at the crime scene a year ago had been too faint, they’d figured out a way to do some computer enhancements and would soon be able to check that tread against the tires on the van.

March wanted to see what kind of reaction that would bring. So did Savanna. She just didn’t feel as if that was much to go in there with.

“He won’t give himself away,” she’d insisted when Detective March had called to do some roleplaying with her before bed last night. “He won’t suddenly admit that he had something to do with Emma Ventnor’s disappearance.”

“He doesn’t have to,” March insisted. “Just get him to give you some kind of story, explain what he did that day, why it couldn’t be him. The more details he offers, the better. If those details differ from the story he’s already given us, that’s something right there. We’ll do our fact checking, hopefully catch him in a few lies that we can probe further. He might accidentally say something he’d rather not. I’ve had perpetrators subconsciously lead me right where they didn’t want me to go, especially if they’re scared. I’m hoping that’s what’ll happen here.”

Savanna hoped the same thing. But if Gordon could deny DNA evidence, like he did back when they thought finding Theresa Spinnaker’s blood in his van would really mean something, she doubted a bluff about tire track impressions would have the power to rattle him.





28

Savanna had never been inside a jail. She’d seen the sheriff’s office where the jail was located on occasion, but not often. Although it was only eight minutes from the heart of Nephi, she rarely had reason to drive that far south. There was a Mormon church out that way and some gravel pits, but everything of any importance, at least to her, lay to the north, in the Provo/Orem or Salt Lake area. After Gordon was arrested, she almost could’ve ignored the fact that he was so close, except for the shock and all the publicity, of course.

Her palms were sweating on the steering wheel as she pulled into the parking lot. Somehow, Detective Sullivan had made a mistake thinking that visiting hours were in the morning. As it turned out, she couldn’t see Gordon until seven in the evening, so they’d had to make several adjustments, like renting her motel room for another night, having the caregiver for her children stay over again and asking Gavin to pick her up on Thursday instead of Wednesday.

Savanna wasn’t sure how Sullivan had blown it like that. He said he wasn’t sure, either, except he didn’t have to go to the jail during visiting hours and had just briefly glanced at the website. But arriving so early had given her far too much time to think. Because she hadn’t wanted to be seen, hadn’t wanted to bump into anyone she knew and be recognized, she’d stayed inside, waiting and worrying while the TV played program after program.

Now she was jittery because she’d been too nervous to go out and eat but had gone too long without food. The last thing she’d had was the free breakfast offered by the motel. She’d ducked into the dining area just before mealtime ended and grabbed a waffle, some yogurt and an apple, which she’d carried back to her room.