9. Savannah
Chapter 9
Savannah
“ W hat are YOU doing here?” I ask when I see Alice walk into my office.
“I just want to talk. Please,” she says in a pleading tone.
Shaking my head, I point to the door.
“You might want to talk, but I don’t want to look at your face. Please leave.”
“Savannah—
“No,” I growl.
I hear the sound of a chair moving, and Clarissa gets up.
“I’m sensing that you two need some space. I’ll be outside, so take as long as you need.”
“You don’t need to leave, Clarissa. I have nothing to say to her,” I say.
Clarissa leaves the office anyway.
I glare at Alice, arms folded.
“You have five minutes.”
She nods hastily.
“Five minutes,” she repeats.
I don’t bother offering her a chair.
“I’m sorry for what I did to you, Savannah. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear. I was going to come clean—”
“Come clean that you were sleeping with my fiancé? Someone I introduced you to? And for the better part of one year?” I ask, my voice coming out higher than I’d like it.
I inhale to dial back on my anger. Alice Hansen does deserve my wrath, but right now, I have to focus on clearing my name—a pickle I wouldn’t be in if two people I loved hadn’t betrayed me.
“Let’s say you came clean. Let’s say you asked to meet me one day and confessed that you and my fiancé were having an affair. What did you think would have happened?”
“Do you think I would have forgiven you? That I’d understand that things happen, and since you confessed, I should give you a second chance?” The more I talk, the closer I get to losing my cool. “Do you see me as someone who is that gullible, Alice?”
Alice shakes her head and waves her hand.
“No. Not at all. I don’t see you as…I’m sorry, Savannah. I thought…I was jealous of what you had with Brandon. Then one day he called me to come pick him up from the bar because he was too drunk to drive, and you weren’t picking up your phone,” she explains.
“I swear, I was just going to drop him off at your place, but he didn’t want you to see him like that. So, we went to my place and….” She winces at the memory, and I see her eyes water. “I broke up with him a week after you called the wedding off.”
“I would have done it before then, but he didn’t let me. He made me believe that he could handle things. I should have known,” she exhales. “I was so stupid.”
The only thing I feel for Alice is the pity I felt for Brandon the last time we met. Pity for the people who only think of themselves.
And then after ruining everything they still couldn’t be happy.
“I don’t care,” I say, my anger ebbing away. “The second I found out you and Brandon were having an affair, both of you ceased to exist in my life. So please, leave, now.”
I turn my face away so Alice would take it as my final statement. I hear her sigh as she turns to leave.
“Brandon is dead, you know,” she says.
My head whips around so fast that I almost give myself whiplash.
“Brandon is dead?”
As in, how the hell did you find out about that?
“You still love him,” she says. “Don’t you? I don’t know how he died, and the cops are keeping it under wraps. He said he wanted to meet with you two weeks ago.”
“Did you meet with him?” She asks.
I open my mouth to speak, to lie, but nothing comes out.
Shit. I can’t discuss this with her.
“I guess not. I wouldn’t blame you either.”
“Hey.”
A new voice breaks my train of thought, and my eyes widen when I see Michael standing by the door.
“Good morning,” he says to Alice. “Can I help you? Are you here to see someone?”
“I’m sorry,” she shakes her head. “I came to see Savannah, but I will be leaving now. Thank you for the five minutes, Savannah. I know it isn’t my place to say this, but I’m sure Brandon’s sister would love to hear from you.”
The expression on my face is stoic indifference, but I’m panicking inside. When she leaves and Michael closes the door, I let out a loud, long sigh.
He strides across my office, coming to pat me on the back.
“Are you ok? If you’re going to stop breathing every time someone mentions his name, then you might as well go to the station and admit that you killed him.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snap, directing my anger to him.
He doesn’t seem fazed, though, and I watch as he takes the chair in front of my desk.
“You could say thank you. I just saved you.”
“From what?” I say haughtily, trying to make up for my moment of weakness, “I had it under control.”
Michael shakes his head.
“No, you didn’t. You very much did not have that under control. You did not see me when I arrived, either. But I could see how hard you were struggling to keep your composure.”
“If she had continued asking questions, you would have lost your cool and admitted that you met with him. Your friend would put the pieces together so fast we wouldn’t be able to raise reasonable doubt.”
I glare at him, placing my hands on the desk.
“Are you here to help or point out ways in which I’m terrible at being a lawyer.”
“You’re not a lawyer.”
Why did I think Michael Stone and I could come to a truce?
“And you agreed to help me, but the lawyer you assigned to my case refused to meet with me. He’s been pushing the meeting repeatedly. At this rate, I might as well turn myself in.”
Michael chuckles.
“I’m glad one of us finds humor in this situation.” I scoff.
“Thank you for being entertaining,” he says. “But that’s why I stopped by. I’ve decided that I’ll be handling your case personally. Everything that has to do with the case will be in my care.”
“Really?” I ask with a bit of excitement.
“Yes, but before we get too far along, we need to have a briefing.”
I don’t know what is responsible for the sudden change of mind, and while I believe that Michael has something to gain from this, I’m not about to look the gift horse in the mouth.
“Okay. I’ll find an excuse to keep Clarissa out of the office.”
“That won’t be necessary. We’re going out.”
“Out?”
“Is that a word you’re unfamiliar with?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m just surprised you’d want to meet somewhere other than the office.”
“That’s because the longer I sit here, the more I expose myself to potential rumors. If I keep you in my office, I’ll have no time for the other people I need to see, and then they’ll wonder why you’re spending so much time there.”
“Rumors, Savannah Richmond,” he picks up my pen, “I’d expect that you’d understand this by now.”
“Well,” I reply snappily, “I’m sorry I’m not good at this.”
“Well, you need to start being good at it. It starts with understanding that you are in a precarious situation, and we want to protect your image and reputation.”
I see.
Although he’s offering to help me, he doesn’t want to be seen around me. This only confirms my earlier suspicion—Stone has a stake in my predicament.
Some gift horse.
***
“Now, we’re going to work on your alibi,” Michael says as he sips from a glass.
After leaving the office, he decided that he wanted a drink, so we ended up going to a quiet bar tucked into a busy part of the city.
“Do you always meet clients here?” The words fly out of my mouth, and I instantly regret saying it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask that.”
“Whatever you choose to do is your business. My alibi for the night Brandon was murdered is…nothing. I was at home. I’m usually at home when I’m not at work.”
“At the time of his death, I was in my living room with a glass of wine, watching a re-run of FRIENDS. I slept in front of the television until around three am, and then I went to get a glass of water.”
“I couldn’t sleep after that, so I did some work. Light work because I didn’t want to rush and miss an important detail. After that, I heated some pizza rolls, ended up eating one, and then went to bed.”
The words come out on a roll, and I don’t take more than one gulp of oxygen until I’m done.
Michael’s response is three slow, loud, and evenly spaced claps.
“You’re good.”
“At what?”
“Your memory. You’re good at remembering the tiniest detail. I barely know what happens after I get home because I’m always dog-tired and ready to collapse. Of course, I don’t, but that’s beside the point.”
“You’d have made a fine attorney.”
His words make my heart drop to my stomach. Although said without the intention to evoke emotions, it touches a deep part of me. Those are the words I always wanted to hear from my father.
“Thank you,” I respond. “I appreciate that. But I’m not one, and I am the prime suspect in the murder of my ex-fiancé. Having a detailed recollection of what I did that night isn’t an alibi.”
He looks at me earnestly. “Don’t be a pessimist, Savannah. That might work for some people, but it doesn’t look good on you. I want you to be confident we will get you out of this mess.”
“Does that mean that you believe me?”
He shrugs. “That doesn’t matter. My job is to create reasonable doubt. To do that, we’ll be moving on to the next step. I need to know where Brandon Portman went before he went home that day.”
“Right from when he left the restaurant.”
Something occurs to me.
“When Alice came by, she said the cops kept everything hush. They don’t have any reason to do that, right? I mean, Elaine Rogers wants to nail me for the crime.”
“Why hasn’t she tried to get the news out? Why hasn’t my father called me?”
A mischievous smile spreads on Michael’s face.
“That’s because I decided I would handle your case. And I hate when rumors get around before I can put a pin in them. Fortunately for us, I know some powerful people.”
“Including Rogers’ boss. I didn’t ask him to shut down the investigation, just keep it quiet until I can get a handle on things. And he owes me one, so he agreed. Plus, they know what will happen if someone crosses me.”
I don’t know whether to admire Michael or be afraid of him.
“Most people think you’re kind and thoughtful. They don’t know who you really are.”
“And I’d like to keep it that way, thank you.”
I shrug. “Sure. I’m not about to go around telling people your business. Especially since you’ve made it the only condition with which you’d help me.”
From the reaction on his face, I see that he doesn’t agree with some part of my statement. I don’t know which, but I don’t ask either.
***
“Can you walk on your own?”
I shoot Michael a glare.
“I had one drink.”
“Two,” he says, “and you seem like a lightweight.”
I shrug, feeling light and free for the first time since the cops came to my office. When Michael suggested that we talk somewhere other than the office again today, we ended up at a small coffee shop and spent over two hours going through Brandon’s life.
At least the parts I knew about.
Then, he made several calls before calling it a day.
I didn’t want to go home and be alone with my thoughts, so I informed him I wanted to get a drink. He offered to drive me, even though I made it clear that I didn’t want to impose.
“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” He asks.
I shake my head. “Nope. I can find the car by myself. And I am not a lightweight.”
I am, in fact, a lightweight. I never indulged in any vices growing up because I knew it would cement my father’s disapproval of everything else that I did.
I thought that if I stayed away from partying, then he would see that I was focused. Of course, it was Peter—who didn’t bother hiding his vices and still took all the glory.
And I had two glasses.
I turn around, spreading my arms out to feel the breeze as I reach the parking lot in front of the bar. With the rows of cars, it takes a while before I find Michael’s car.
When I do, though, I lean against the passenger door, waiting for him.
“One moment,” he says as the car beeps.
I close my eyes for a moment, and the next thing I feel is a hand touching my shoulder.
“Savannah?”
Michael’s face is pretty close to mine, and I can smell his aftershave—a heady mix that messes with my already cloudy brain.
And what is that?
I reach out to touch his chin, and the feel of his peach fuzz excites me.
“Savannah,” he says in a low tone.
“What?” I ask, feeling the wind taking away my inhibitions. I lean closer, “Do you know that you smell amazing right now?”
He shakes his head and removes my hand.
“You need to step away so I can open the door for you.”
“Oh,” I say, my eyes widen as I realize where I stand. “Okay.”
I take one step forward, but it’s a step too far, and I lose my balance. Thankfully, I have the good sense to reach out to Michael, wrapping my arms around his neck.
His hands encircle my waist, breaking my fall midway.
It takes a moment as I try to get my bearings, but I become all too aware of his body pressed against mine and his lips mere inches away. Knowing that if I think about it, I might change my mind, I close my eyes and lean forward, pressing my lips to his.
I sense hesitation at first, but it is quickly replaced with a shockingly, intense response from Michael, who grabs the back of my neck and takes over the kiss. My back presses against the cold steel of the car, and the warmth from Michael’s lips, contrasting with the steel’s coldness, creates a profound sensation in me.
Then he pulls away from me.
“We should go,” he says sternly.
The intoxication in my brain clears at that, and I stare in confusion as he leaves me to deal with the door myself, going to the driver’s side.
Quietly, I open the door and get in. He doesn’t say anything as we leave, but in my head, there are a thousand questions.