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An hour went by, and Savvy finished up her report. She stared into space for a moment, reviewing what she’d written, trying to put things together in her head. Outside the windows wind and rain were still lashing violently, but she’d caught an early morning weather report, which said that things were supposed to dry out by sometime tomorrow.
She slowly remembered that she hadn’t called Paulie Williamson. Like everything else the past few days, it had fallen through the cracks when she’d been distracted, and she’d been constantly distracted. Maybe it was finally time to follow up.
Plucking her notebook from her messenger bag, she flipped to the list of names and numbers she’d written in for Bancroft Development. Picking up the desk phone, she placed a call to the number Clark Russo had given her for Williamson. The phone rang on and on, and she prepared herself to leave a voice mail. Instead, after a long, long time, a man picked up and said, “Hello?” in a cautious voice.
“Mr. Williamson?”
“Yes.” More cautious.
“I’m Detective Savannah Dunbar with the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department. I’m doing follow-up interviews on the Marcus and Chandra Donatella homicides, which took place at Bancroft Bluff in Deception Bay.” She paused, but when all she could hear was his breathing, she went on. “I understand you were the manager of the Bancroft Development Portland office at the time.”
“That’s right.” Again, very cautiously.
“Clark Russo, the current Portland manager, gave me your name and cell number. Do you have a minute?”
“Look, whatever it is, I can’t help you with it. I’m at a job site now, and I’m busy.”
And he hung up.
Huh.
Burghsmith and Clausen entered the squad room in the midst of a loud discussion in which Burghsmith, deep into a new diet regime, was extolling the virtues of gluten-free doughnuts and Clausen was talking over him with a series of rude noises and comments.
She almost missed Hale’s ring tone in the midst of Clausen’s contention that Burghsmith had “been taken over by faddist aliens and had moved to the dark side.” Sweeping the cell from her desk, she turned her back to the argument and answered, “Good morning. Everything okay?”
“I was just going to ask you the same thing. . . .” He trailed off, then asked, “You’re at work?”
“Had to write up a report, and I couldn’t sleep much, anyway. How’d it go with little Declan last night?”
“Victoria actually got up and fed him, but my mother took over this morning. Declan seems to be taking some formula.”
“Good,” Savvy said, though she felt a twinge of what? Jealousy? Down, girl, she told herself.
Hale was going on, “She was holding him and actually crooning to him when I left. Can’t tell if she’s really into the baby, or she just wants me to get rid of the nanny.”
“Maybe a little of both,” she said. “So, you’re at work, too.”
“I feel like I’ve been on a sabbatical. I needed to refocus.”
“Yeah.”
Savannah’s desk phone suddenly rang. Clausen and Burghsmith had moved down the hall to the break room, but the doughnut discussion had yet to abate. Burghsmith had made some insulting comment about Clausen’s waistline, apparently, because the discussion was quickly turning into a heated argument.
“I’ve got to go,” Savvy said.
“Do you have a plan for today? About the baby?” he asked.
“I want to stop by this evening with more breast milk, but if he’s taking formula better, then I don’t know. . . .”
“Come for dinner,” he said. “I’ll pick up from Gino’s. Chicken and artichoke linguine . . . ?”
She almost asked if his grandfather and his mother would still be there, but they probably would, and, anyway, what did it matter? She wanted to go. “I can’t say no to that. Thanks. I’ll see you later.” She clicked off and grabbed her desk phone receiver. “Detective Dunbar.”
“There’s a Nadine Gretz calling for you,” Cho’s voice said. “She wanted to know if this is where you worked.”
“Put her through,” Savvy said. Nadine Gretz. Bancroft Development’s ex-employee to whom Savannah had spoken through Henry Woodworth’s cell phone.
“Hello?” Nadine’s voice asked uncertainly.
