Chapter 7
Hez stood and stretched. A ripple of cracks went up his spine and along each arm. He took a swig of icy water from his bottle
and surveyed the day’s work. The rambling wildflower garden behind the patio was now weed-free and had a stone border. He
pictured sitting in Adirondack chairs on the cobblestone patio and sipping sweet tea with Savannah as Simon chased lightning
bugs across the wide sweep of lawn.
Hez wished they were here now. The patio had a firepit, and it would be fun to roast hot dogs for dinner. But Simon had homework
to do, and Savannah needed to get to some paperwork she’d left sitting on the counter in her cottage’s little kitchen. Plus,
she probably also didn’t want Simon to be here if Michael Willard decided to drop by again.
Hez’s blood boiled at the thought. He had been furious when he heard what happened, of course. He’d also felt a little guilty
that he hadn’t been here, though there had been no reason to think he was leaving Savannah to face an ominous confrontation
alone. Still, he wouldn’t mind an opportunity to have a few harsh words with Michael. In fact, one reason Hez had decided
to finish the garden today was that he’d half hoped Simon’s grandfather might make another visit.
The setting sun turned Mobile Bay to gold and blood as it touched the watery horizon and then slipped beneath it.
The sea breeze brought the mingled scents of wildflowers and salt water and blew away the last of the sweat from Hez’s face.
He leaned against the rough stone of the firepit and took another drink from his bottle.
Venus appeared in the darkening sky, and the first lightning bugs winked from a little copse of trees on one side of the lawn.
Time to go try the new showerhead he’d installed in the master bathroom. After that, he’d stretch out on the air mattress
he’d brought. He had tomorrow off and he wanted to spend as much time as possible working on the house. He wanted it to be
perfect before he carried Savannah over the threshold.
Hez stripped and turned on the shower. They’d splurged and gotten a fancy showerhead that boosted water pressure and had an
excellent massage setting. It was Savannah’s idea, and Hez silently thanked her as he stepped toward the shower. He’d sleep
well tonight.
He stopped with his hand on the door of the shower stall. Was something out there in the night?
The bathroom window had old-fashioned blinds rather than frosted glass, and Hez hadn’t bothered to close them because the
nearest neighbor on the bay side of the house was across Mobile Bay. A full moon hung low in the western sky, silhouetting
the tower on the hillside—and what appeared to be a figure on it.
I’m an easy target.
Hez immediately turned off the bathroom light and ducked.
He crept out of the bathroom, staying out of the line of sight of the tower.
The master bedroom also faced west, and he risked a peek through one of its windows.
The figure on the tower had vanished. Hez pulled on dark sweats to make himself a little less visible and checked the Glock 22 he’d kept nearby since the attack in his condo.
Heart racing, Hez slipped out the front door and circled around to the back of the house, keeping to the shadows as much as
possible. Now that he was outside, the moonlight seemed incredibly bright. He would have little trouble seeing the watcher
in the tower—and vice versa.
He reached an old oak ten yards from the tower and pressed against its trunk, listening. The only sounds he heard were his
pounding heart and the rhythmic rumble of waves reaching the shore. He risked a quick look. Nothing but silvery grass between
him and the tower. No movement in its black windows or arched entrance.
Hez swallowed hard, then dashed across the open ground. He stumbled as he reached the tower’s gate and it clanged. Anyone
in the tower knew he was there now, so he abandoned stealth and raced up the curving staircase inside. The steel steps rang
under his feet, and he kept his gun trained on the trapdoor above.
He paused at the top, crouching under the trapdoor. He held his breath and listened. Nothing. He threw open the door and burst
out, sweeping his pistol around the small parapeted stone platform. It was empty.
A quarter mile away, an engine roared to life and headlights came on. Tires squealed as the vehicle sped away. The distance
was too great for Hez to make out the make or model, but the engine sounded powerful—maybe a pickup or a large SUV.
Hez lowered his gun and examined the platform.
There was no sign that anyone had been there, and the springy turf around the tower’s base wouldn’t hold footprints.
All the neighbors had large lots and houses set back from the road, so it was unlikely that a security camera caught anything useful.
The only evidence of an intruder would be Hez’s claim that he thought he saw someone on the tower—and he was still recovering from brain surgery, which could cause vision problems.
He sighed and trudged back down the tower steps and into the house. He decided to send Hope a short email describing what
happened, but there was little she could do. Then he’d take that shower and lie on the air mattress, but no way would he sleep
tonight.
There was no line at University Grounds this morning, which was a pleasant surprise to Savannah. She’d spent the night mentally
composing what she wanted to say to the school at her scheduled appointment at three, and she was no closer to being confident
she could get across how serious the transgression had been.
She glanced at her watch as she approached the counter. Nora would be here in fifteen minutes. Just enough time to get their
order. The familiar aroma of coffee and steamed milk eased Savannah’s distress for a moment, and she studied the chalkboard
of daily breakfast specials. She wasn’t hungry but ordered two acai bowls to go with the coffees anyway.
The woman at the other end of the counter poured cream in her coffee and turned back toward the door.
Savannah bit back a gasp when she recognized the school receptionist’s dyed red hair and skinny arms. Ruth Wells’s faded hazel eyes darted toward Savannah’s face and just as quickly veered away.
Her already pale skin went a shade lighter.
The older woman had been a fixture at the elementary school since Savannah had been in the fourth grade, and she had always seemed so kind and encouraging.
Now Savannah saw those traits as much too weak to deal with the likes of Michael Willard.
Ruth wetted her lips. “Savannah, good morning.”
Savannah stepped into her path. “I need to speak to you for a minute, Ruth.”
“I—I took the day off, so perhaps you should speak to the principal.”
Savannah wanted to confront Ruth directly. “This won’t take long.” She steered Ruth toward a back corner before crossing her
arms over her chest and fixing a stern stare at the older woman. “I did not give permission for anyone except me or Hez to
pick up Simon from school yesterday. Would you care to explain why you let a stranger take him without permission?”
Ruth gave a weak laugh. “Stranger? His grandfather is hardly a stranger and was surely an exception.”
“There are no exceptions. When Simon didn’t get off the bus, I panicked. You didn’t even call me—the bus driver was the one
who told me his grandfather had taken him. I couldn’t reach my father and had no idea where to find my nephew.”
“You thought your father had him?” Ruth gulped, and the cup in her hand trembled. “I supposed Mr. Willard had cleared it with you.”
“You supposed. That’s not how safety issues are supposed to work.”
“B-but it was Michael Willard!”
“All the more reason to at least call me first. The man is a sociopath!”
Ruth’s gaze widened, and she took a step back. “Mr. Willard has been the school’s main benefactor for many years, Savannah,
and his mother has been one of my best friends for decades. He’s a wonderful man, and Simon is lucky to have him in his life.
Mr. Willard often picked up Jess, and she would come back to school the next day just glowing from the love he lavished on
her. He adored her.”
Savannah opened her mouth to refute such nonsense, then closed it again. What proof did she have that anything her father
had told her was true? Who was the real villain in this situation? It was humbling to realize she didn’t know.
When she didn’t answer right away, Ruth squared her shoulders. “I’ll make sure no one takes Simon without your permission
again, Savannah, and I apologize for my lapse in judgment. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a busy day.” She brushed past Savannah
without waiting for an answer.
That hadn’t gone in the direction Savannah intended. Her order was called, and she went to pick it up as Nora entered the
coffee shop. She’d been a steadfast friend since they bonded in a grief group.
“Good morning.” Nora followed Savannah to a corner table. “I’m so glad you called. I wanted to hear how the house reno is
going.”
“I can’t wait to show it to you! Hez and I started painting the interior yesterday.”
Nora slung her bag over the side of a chair and got situated. “I’ve driven by a few times. That tower is amazing.”
“Stop next time if you see a car there.” Savannah sat in her chair and checked her phone. There were no messages with problems
she had to deal with at the office. “How are things going with Graham?” Nora had been dating the TGU bookstore manager for
a couple of months, and Savannah was thrilled her friend was moving on with her life.
Nora poked her glasses up on her nose. “Great! I—I think I might be falling for him. Hard. He’s so kind and supportive. He’s
very understanding when I get called into work at odd hours too.”
Savannah reached across the table and squeezed Nora’s hand. “I’m so happy for you.”
“I feel the same about you. I’m thrilled everything is going so well for you and Hez.”
“And that brings up an important question. Would you be my maid of honor?”
Nora’s smile was wide. “I’d be honored! I wouldn’t want anyone else propping you up. How’s the wedding planning coming? Have
you picked out the flowers yet? How can I help?”
Wedding flowers were way down Savannah’s priority list. “Oh, uh, not yet. And I can use all the help I can get.”
Nora took a sip of her coffee. “You seem a little distracted this morning. Is something wrong?”
Michael was Nora’s uncle. Would she be likely to open up about his true nature? Savannah raised her voice above the hiss of
the milk steamer. “Have you spent much time with your uncle Michael?”
Nora lifted a brow and set her cup back on the table. “More when I was growing up than lately. Why are you asking about him?”
“I realized I don’t know the Michael Jess knew as a father, and I’m not sure how to take him. Jess always described him as
a stern but attentive father who took her on motorcycle rides, taught her to shoot, told great stories, and took her to Mimi
Willard’s for homemade ice cream and cobbler. Did you ever see Jess there?”
Nora nodded. “And I saw those traits she described often. He really loved Jess.”
Had Savannah believed the wrong man all these years? “What’s his character like? He seems overbearing and arrogant to me.”
“His strong personality can be overwhelming. If he likes you, he’s great—especially if you’re part of the family. But if you’re
not a Willard and you cross him, he’s apt to show you why his nickname is the Punisher.”
And Savannah had just crossed him.