7. Savannah
Chapter 7
Savannah
M y fingers fly across the keyboard, the keys clacking louder than Clarissa’s voice. I didn’t think it would be easy when I told myself I would put Peter, Brandon, and Michael behind me, but I didn’t expect it to be this difficult either.
How hard could it be not to react whenever the colleague with whom you share the same office keeps talking about Michael like she’s secretly dating him?
Mr. Stone, this. Mr. Stone that. Can you believe he donated blah, blah, blah, money to this blah blah blah charity and won this blah blah blah case?
My dream is to one day work with him on a case, was the last thing she said before I decided to drown her out.
After meeting with Brandon and feeling nothing but pity for him, I realized that I was giving Peter and Michael the same energy. The energy that I needed to use to get myself ahead.
So, I decided to forget it. It was hard to keep my cool when we met, but I had promised myself that I would rise above it all and be the bigger person.
The man sure knows how to push my buttons.
“Savannah?” Clarissa calls out.
The only reason I hear her is because my fingers stopped moving across the keyboard when my brain decided to actively engage in work.
“Yeah?” I turn to her.
“Are you coming out with us this evening? After work?”
“Us?”
“Yeah. A bunch of people from the firm are going out for drinks. It’s something that happened spontaneously. Will you come?”
I shake my head.
“I’m sorry, maybe next time?”
She shrugs. “Sure, but you’ll never know when the next time might be. The last time we got together like this was six months ago, and then a bunch of cases hit the firm that had everyone busy for months.”
“I don’t know if what you have to do is important,” she gives me the side eye, “but it’ll be a good way to get to know your colleagues. You’ll need them for the annual performance evaluation. Besides it's all paid for.”
My eyebrows fly up. “Annual performance evaluation?”
“Yeah,” Clarissa nods. “Everyone in a department gives an evaluation of their colleagues. For us paralegals, we get evaluated by attorneys we’ve worked with. Even the partners.”
My eyes widen, and my jaw drops.
She waves her hand, chuckling.
“Don’t get scared. It’s nothing big except if a bunch of lawyers have something bad to say. And when I say a bunch, I mean a bunch.” She jokes.
That’s not what I’m worried about. The part where she talked about getting evaluated by attorneys went over my head, and I only listened when she mentioned the partners.
Does Michael Stone get to evaluate me? What then? I’ll get fired after spending less than a year at the firm.
I laugh bitterly. “I’ll sure be proving my father right. He’ll love this. And hate me at the same time.”
“Why would he hate you?”
I spoke out loud. Shoot.
“It was an exaggeration,” I wave my hand. “Parents and their expectations.”
Clarissa nods, although I get the feeling that she can’t relate.
“Okay. Well, if you’re not coming, then that’s fine. But if you are, let me know so I can text you the location.”
“Noted.”
“I think Mr. Stone will—"
My fingers hit the keyboard again, and I drown out her voice. It only lasts a couple of seconds because I soon feel a presence standing in front of me.
“Fine,” I sigh in exasperation, “if it’s that important, I’ll—"
The words die on my tongue when I see it is not Clarissa but a uniformed female cop staring down at me. And two other male officers in plain clothes behind her.
“Uhm. Can I help you?”
“Miss Savannah Richmond. We’d like you to come down to the station with us to answer a few questions.”
A few, what?
“What happened? Did something happen?”
“We would like you to cooperate and accompany us to the station. If not, we’ll be forced to get a warrant for your arrest, and things could get complicated,” she says in a no-nonsense tone.
I sense that she is not bluffing and that there is enough evidence that I did something. Something…I have no idea what. But the thought of being escorted out of my office and the building in handcuffs, while everyone is watching, scares me.
My father would hear about it. Pictures would be splashed on every news outlet and through every social media platform possible. Even if it ends up that I didn’t do what they think I did, my life will never be the same.
And who would hire a paralegal who has been arrested?
Nobody, that’s who.
“Alright,” I say gently. “I’ll come with you. But can I go with the plainclothes officers? I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”
She turns to the others and gives them a nod.
“Fine. I’ll see you at the station. They’ll take your car. But if you decide you don’t want to cooperate, you could spend the night at the station.”
I nod, my heart pounding with all the possibilities of why I am being escorted to the police station.
“Can you tell me what this is about?” I ask as I follow the other two officers outside.
“Maybe a hint?” I add. “I’m not sure what you think I did to get myself into a pickle like this. I’m sure you can at least tell me something since I’m cooperating?”
Nothing. Not a peep or a squeak from them. I hand over my keys to one man and get into the backseat with the other.
On the ride to the station, I think about who to call if I’m asked to contact a lawyer. And no one comes to mind.
***
“ Killed?” I ask, flabbergasted. “Brandon Portman is dead?”
The female detective, whose name I now know is Elaine Rogers, nods.
“Yes. We found his body at his house not long after eyewitnesses saw you two together. We think you were the last person to see him alive.”
Shit. Shit. Shit
I rub my face. I shouldn’t have met Brandon at the restaurant. I wasn’t going to, but he… fuck. Why? I wouldn’t have gotten into this mess if I had given the damn ring to his lawyer when he asked.
“Okay,” I say, trying to sound calm. “I met him at a restaurant, and he went back to his apartment. Doesn’t that imply that there was enough time for him to meet with someone else? Maybe the person who killed him? Because I’m certain it’s not me.”
“You had a ring that you returned to him. The ring was found on him,” she says.
“What?” I ask, getting close to having a heart attack. “I—how do you know that I gave him the ring?”
“Eyewitnesses. We interviewed some of the people who were at the restaurant, and they heard you arguing about the ring. Some of them even said you threatened him.”
“That you threatened to carry out your revenge on him for cheating on you.”
I throw my hands in the air.
“I was angry, nothing else. He cheated on me, and he wanted the ring back. I—"
You’re a paralegal, Savannah! Even if you’re not a lawyer, you know about incriminating evidence! Words used out of context.
I clam up.
“Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Good,” I smile. “All you have is a few people who repeated what they heard, words said in anger and a ring that I gave him in public. Even if it has my DNA, it only shows I wore it.”
“The next time you come for me, make sure you have more concrete evidence because right now you have nothing.”
Elaine stands up when I do.
“I don’t think you want to do this.”
I snicker. “Sure. Use your reverse psychology tactics. But I know what you are trying to do, detective. You’re trained to fuck with minds. I have nothing else to say to you. Have a wonderful day.”
As I step out of the interrogation room, I run into none other than Michael Stone, and my jaw drops for the second time.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He takes my hand. “Be quiet. We’ll speak in my car.”
I do as he says, although I feel his anger when his fingers dig into my arm. We leave the station and he opens the car door for me.
“Get in.”
I do, and he slams it, going to the other door. I feel his anger like a dark cloud in the car, and with each second that passes, I get more nervous. Eventually, I blurt out—
“I didn’t kill him.”
“Why did you go to the police station, then?”
“I didn’t know Brandon had been murdered until we got to the station! They said they were going to arrest me if I didn’t cooperate. That they had evidence.”
“And you believed that? Haven’t you learned anything in all the years working in the legal profession? I bet you sat there and incriminated yourself. Why didn’t you ask for your lawyer?”
“God dammit,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “why do you have to be this way? You’re savvy and smart, but the first thing you do when a cop says you committed murder is to go with them?”
That’s it.
“I was scared!” I yell. “Okay? I was scared. Not that they had something on me, but I was scared that I would disappoint my father. I was worried that he would find out.”
“That everything I’ve done in my life, everything I’ve worked for, would go down the drain, and the people who thought nothing of me would be right!”
I take a deep breath. “I was trying to cooperate. And I didn’t know he had been murdered. I would have never guessed that they were bringing me in on a murder charge.”
“Savannah—"
“And I didn’t say anything that would incriminate myself, Mr. Stone. I am smarter than that. I repeated what they told me was their damning evidence and called it bullshit. I was leaving when you walked in.”
There.
I’m done.
He doesn’t say anything for a while.
He starts. “I came back from court. Just won a case. And I walk into my office, and Brenda says there’s a call for me. I expect it to be the client, but it’s not.”
“It’s a freaking cop who owes me a favor. He says that one of my employees is at the station. Then he tells me to come immediately, or Elaine Rogers was going to pin you for the murder of Brandon Portman.”
“Do you understand the fear that ran through my heart?” Michael asks, his eyes boring deep into mine. “I panicked, Savannah. I got to my office, turned right around, and headed to the police station as fast as I could.”
Oh.
That’s why.
That’s why he looked so mad when we locked eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m mixed up in this, which I could have avoided if I hadn’t met with Brandon to give him back the ring.”
“You don’t sound sorry, but I’m used to it. So, tell me. What does Rogers have on you, and what is your proof that you didn’t kill Brandon?”
My eyebrow flies up. “What? Proof that I didn’t kill him? I just said I didn’t. Don’t you believe me?”
“Pretend I don’t. Pretend I’m your lawyer.”