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He was going to get them both soon. Top ten? Top one hundred, he thought with a laugh. He had a long way to go. Yessirree. No one was going to stop him.
“You feel me, bitch,” he whispered, sending the detective his sexual desire in a hot, snaking wave.
Then he sent another message to his father, too, reaching in his pocket to slide his thumb along the edge of the knife tucked inside. It’s long past time for a family reunion, Pops. I’m coming for you. Soon.
CHAPTER 23
Late Monday morning Savannah stood with Hale outside the Hertz rental agency in Seaside in a blowing wind mixed with a slap of rain, the keys to a blue Ford Escape in her gloved hands. The temperature was above freezing and rising, and the snow was off the main roads, but it felt cold as the Arctic.
Hale had come to her room this morning, early, and had caught her breast-feeding his son. She’d looked up at him, worried about his reaction, but he’d swallowed once, hard, and said, “I’m so glad he has you,” and that had sent Savannah’s hormones into overdrive and she’d felt the sting of tears once again.
He’d offered to take her home, but she’d asked for a ride to Hertz. Her own Escape was in the process of being picked up by Isaac’s Towing and taken to a repair shop in Seaside. Baby Declan was still at the hospital; Hale was planning to pick up the car seat he and Kristina had purchased and fit it into his car this afternoon. The new nanny was meeting him at the hospital, as well.
Now, as they stood together under the meager protection of the front awning, Hale asked, “You sure you’re up for this?”
Savvy was standing a little hunched over, the way she had ever since she’d gotten on her feet. The tender areas were becoming less tender, but she was still definitely sore. “I can’t wait to get home and take a shower in my own shower.”
He half laughed in agreement. “Yeah.”
“Thanks for bringing me here.”
He nodded, then asked cautiously, “Do you know what your long-term plan for Declan is?”
“You mean the breast-feeding?” Savvy asked.
“That . . . and you are his aunt, among other things. . . .” He flicked her a look, his gray eyes sober. “I always figured you’d be a big part of his life, but now . . . maybe even bigger.”
“I want to be,” Savvy responded. “Absolutely.”
“But your job . . . it has a lot of hours, and you’re with the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department.... It’s not right around the corner.”
She wanted to argue with him about everything, when in fact he was right on all counts. “I’ll figure out how to pump,” she said. “But I guess you’ll have to use formula, too.”
“I think Kristina bought some. I’d better head home and do some inventory before I meet Victoria at the hospital.”
“Okay.”
He bent his head to the rain and walked quickly to his TrailBlazer. She did the same, sliding into the Escape and familiarizing herself with everything inside as the vehicle was a few years newer than hers.
She didn’t need chains on the main road, so she made good time down Highway 101 to Deception Bay. She’d been on the road forty minutes when she drove past the turnoff to Siren Song, and she looked up as she passed. The top floors of the lodge were visible from the road above the Douglas firs, and the place looked forbidding and cold. Or maybe that was just her imagination.
How would you feel, Detective, if the great-grandfather of the son you just bore was suddenly attacked, possibly killed, and you’d done nothing about it?
She couldn’t get caught up in Catherine’s craziness. And yet . . .
It’s him! It’s him. Was your sister sexually involved with him?
“Stop it,” Savvy snapped at herself. Maybe there was someone out there named Declan who thought Declan Sr. was his father. Maybe he was his father. Catherine liked to spin tales, but maybe Hale’s grandfather had been involved with Mary, too. Why not? If she was as sexually luring as Catherine made out, anything could have happened.
Or maybe it was true that Declan Sr. had had a love affair with Catherine Rutledge.
“Or maybe it’s all fantasy,” Savvy said aloud.
And yet . . . and yet . . .
When Savvy drove up the small hill to her house, the snow was still deep and undisturbed, but the Escape’s four-wheel drive made it easy. She pulled into the garage, and before she hit the button to send the garage door back down, she looked at her tire tracks. The snow was already melting around them. Good.
Gathering up Kristina’s clothes, her messenger bag, and other personal items she’d taken from the hospital, she headed up the back steps. She was sick of this weather. Sick of herself. Sick of everything. Except little Declan . . . and maybe Hale . . .
