Chapter 22
CHAPTER
ELLIE WAS DEFINITELY shaken when she heard what happened. Given that the police still didn’t have any leads on finding her attacker, we were both more on edge than ever.
We decided the best course of action was to lie low. Ellie had Sunday off, so we stayed in. She made us a dynamite breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, and we lounged in our pajamas, binge-watching true crime shows. We called Jenna to invite her, but couldn’t get a hold of her.
Late morning, the officer looking into Melanie Daniels called. I snatched my phone off the coffee table and answered eagerly.
“Ms. Mitchell, I wanted to update you,” the officer said. “Unfortunately, we’ve had no luck so far in tracking down Melanie Daniels.”
My heart sank.
“She hasn’t shown up for any of her shifts at Starbucks this week.
Someone must have tipped her off. According to her employment file, she lives with her mother and sister in the Sausalito area.
We went by the house, but she hasn’t been home in a few days.
Her car is gone, so she may have skipped town.
We’re monitoring her phone records to see if she calls or texts anyone.
We’re also monitoring her bank account and credit cards, but there’s been no activity so far.
She may be lying low with a friend somewhere. ”
I sighed. I had been desperately hoping that they would be able to get her to flip on Madison.
“Don’t worry, we’re going to keep looking for her. We have a BOLO out on her car’s license plate.”
“Okay. I appreciate the update.”
I hung up. Ellie squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry, Savvy—she can’t hide forever.”
“Yeah … I was just really hoping they’d find her quickly so I could nail Madison before this baby is born.” I rubbed my belly thoughtfully.
Don’t worry, baby boy—I’m not going to let anything happen to you.
Before bed that night, I reviewed my presentation a few dozen more times.
Sam said the famous chef himself was going to be in attendance the next morning.
That news, plus agonizing over whether Madison and Nora still planned to press charges, and I was a ball of pure anxiety—but I was determined to keep it together and deliver my absolute best.
My mom called to wish me luck and to say she looked forward to seeing me in a few days—I’d nearly forgotten, the baby shower she and Ellie had been planning for the past few months was scheduled for the following Sunday afternoon. It was hard to believe I was nearly thirty-seven weeks pregnant.
Ellie had the lunch shift at the bistro Monday, so she walked with me down to the garage as I left for work.
Sam had graciously given up his highly coveted manager’s parking spot in the garage below the office for me to use during the remaining weeks of my pregnancy, so I wouldn’t have to walk or waste money on Ubers. He was such a sweetheart.
“I’m so nervous!” I squeezed Ellie’s arm. “But I’m also really excited. I know I can do this. I just hope I don’t act like an idiot and get all tongue-tied in front of Pedro Torres. I’ve never worked with a celebrity before.”
“You’ve got this, Savvy,” Ellie said affectionately. “Plus, from what I hear, babies are great excuses for anytime you do something silly. According to my sister, all you have to say is, ‘Oops, pregnancy brain!’ ”
I laughed. “Good idea.”
Ellie gave me a big hug. “I love you. Call me if you need anything. But you’ll be great—I just know it.”
I tried to stop my right leg from pumping up and down at top speed under the table.
I had just finished presenting our marketing timeline alongside Sam and Meredith at the head of the conference table. Pedro Torres, an attractive Spanish man in his early forties, sat three seats away from me, clicking the top of his pen over and over as he listened attentively.
Now all of us, including his entourage, were staring expectantly at the chef as we waited for his reaction.
Click click click click click. Torres’s eyes darted around the room, briefly landing on me before coming to rest on Meredith, who was still standing. Finally, he put his pen down on the table. “I like it,” he said simply.
I let out the breath I’d been holding and stifled a grin as I heard the collective whoosh of air from everyone around me.
We did it! I screamed inside my head, trying to keep my face as stoic and professional as I could on the outside.
I wanted to run through the hallways of the Blackwell Agency, whooping and hollering in victory, but of course I’d have to wait until I got home to do that.
“What’s the first step?” he asked in his heavy Spanish accent.
Meredith nodded. “If you agree, we can launch Day One of the schedule as soon as tomorrow, hit the ground running, and then proceed with the schedule from there. Each day, we will have proofs for the next day’s action items to your team by three PM, for any changes and final approval by the next morning. ”
Suddenly we heard a commotion from just outside the conference room. Meredith’s face went white as a sheet as she stared through the glass on the opposite wall.
I whirled my head around. Oh no. Three police officers were marching down the hall toward the conference room. Our young receptionist trailed behind them, looking completely helpless.
Please don’t let them be headed into this room. Please, God, please. Our meeting had been going so well up to that point. We were almost finished—whatever it was, couldn’t it wait?
No such luck. The officer in front pushed open the door to the conference room. His eyes searched all the faces in the room—and landed on mine.
Oh, dear God. I felt like all the blood was draining from my body, leaving me with a deep, hollow chill.
“Savannah Mitchell?” asked the male officer, looking right at me. All heads in the room whirled in unison to face my direction.
All that came out was a squeak. “Wha—”
“Please stand up,” the officer barked. The other two officers with him—one male and one female—each grabbed one of my arms and lifted me out of my chair.
I could see the moment when all three noticed my swollen belly.
Their grips on my arms immediately loosened.
I vaguely heard the male officer push the button on his shoulder radio and speak into it, something about “the suspect” being heavily pregnant.
The head officer turned back to me. “Ms. Mitchell, you are under arrest. I need to ask—are you carrying any concealed weapons?”
“What? No!” My head darted back and forth between the officers in confusion.
The female cop, who was still holding my right elbow, turned me around and pulled my wrists together behind my back—which was not easy, given my size.
I felt the cold metal touch of handcuffs and heard a sliding, clicking noise as they locked into place.
“Ow.” The muscles in my arm strained, causing my belly to protrude uncomfortably.
“I’m trying to be as gentle as I can, ma’am. Please stay still,” the female officer said into my ear.
“Is this about the baby shower? I know what Madison must have told you, but—”
“Ms. Mitchell, you have the right to remain silent,” the head officer cut me off. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law …” He continued to read me my rights.
I started to panic as I realized the unbelievable thing I’d feared all weekend was actually happening.
My pulse quickened and my breathing turned shallow.
“Please—wait! I didn’t do anything to Madison, I swear!
” I squirmed in the officer’s grasp, which sent a shooting pain up my arm and into my shoulder.
They ignored my protests; the head officer merely kept going, talking over me as he finished reading me my rights.
Finally, I locked eyes with Sam, which seemed to pull him out of his shocked, frozen state. He leapt out of his chair. “Someone please tell us what is going on. There must be some mistake.” The officers ignored him.
“Savannah Mitchell, you are under arrest for the assault and battery of Madison Hunter and are wanted for questioning in the disappearance of Jenna Martin,” the head officer—whose name badge read BARROWS—said loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear.
“Disappearance?” I gasped. “What are you talking about?”
“We’ll discuss all of this at the station, Ms. Mitchell.” He nodded to the other two officers. “Take her down to the squad car and pat her down.”
As the female officer started pulling me toward the door, I threw Sam a desperate look. “Sam, please—call my mom and my best friend, Ellie. They’re my emergency contacts in my HR file. Please!”
“I will, Savannah. Just cooperate with the officers, and I’m sure they’ll figure out they have the wrong person.”
My thoughts were racing as the officers led me down the back stairs and out onto the street.
Two police cars with flashing lights were parked at the curb in front of the building.
The female officer stopped me and asked me to spread my legs.
As she patted me down, I couldn’t help but glance up at the floor-to-ceiling windows of the conference room, one wall of which faced the street.
My coworkers had their foreheads pressed to the glass as they looked down at us, watching me get searched for weapons like a dangerous criminal.
My vision began to blur as tears flooded my eyes.
The other male officer opened the back door of one of the squad cars. The female officer nudged me forward. “Ma’am, in your condition, it would be best if you cooperate and get into the car yourself.”
I swallowed a sob and awkwardly lowered myself into the car.
As I sat numbly in the back seat, thoughts popped off in my head like fireworks.
Max had obviously failed to talk Madison and Nora out of pressing charges.
But another troubling thought shoved that one out of the way—what did they mean by “the disappearance of Jenna Martin”?
Dread crept into my bones as I thought of all the unanswered calls and texts from the past couple of weeks.
The most recent response I’d gotten from Jenna was the Starbucks photo she’d texted me nearly two weeks ago, with no accompanying message. Since then … silence.
Where was Jenna? Had something happened to her?
What in God’s name was going on?