Midnight Secrets

chapter

TEN


Savannah leaned back against the closed door, imagining Zach on the other side, just standing there. For the first time in years, he was within touching distance. Not that it mattered. He might as well be as far from her as the sun was from the moon. Much more separated them than mere distance.

When at last she heard him move away, she slid bonelessly to the floor with a resounding thud. That had gone about as badly as it could have. The only things she hadn’t done were cry or throw something at him. She hadn’t expected to see him this soon. After the cool nod in town, she figured they’d run into each other in a few days. By then, she would have built up her defenses and been nonchalant about the whole thing. She would have exchanged pleasantries with him and acted like a mature, rational, and sophisticated woman greeting an old acquaintance. But now, there was no way he didn’t know that she had never forgotten or forgiven him.

Her boss was too thorough; she should have realized Reid would notify the local law about the threats. Of course, he didn’t know that the local law was once the love of her life. Not that it would have made a difference. The welfare of his employees was more important than matters of the heart.

She only wished she’d handled their first meeting better. She could turn on or off any kind of emotion when she was trying a case—be passionate or icy cold with little effort. But she had never been able to fake anything with Zach. So much in her personality had changed, yet apparently that one thing had remained consistent. And now, she had to figure out how to regroup. Show him that she truly felt nothing for him, nor did she hold a grudge.

Maybe it would have helped if he’d become unattractive. Why couldn’t his thick blond hair have thinned out and become straggly? Or that strong jawline gone saggy and jowly? At the very least, a stomach paunch or stooped shoulders to lessen his appeal. None of that had happened. If anything, maturity had only improved Zach Tanner. At twenty, he had been tall and on the slim side, with ash-blond hair and clear gray eyes. A thirty-year-old Zach was broad shouldered and muscular as if he lifted weights on a regular basis. The light golden streaks in his hair told her he spent a lot of time in the sun. That square jaw she’d once covered in kisses seemed as hard as granite, and those lips she’d once let devour her were sensuous, sexy, and so very male. Everything about him seemed bigger, bolder, and even more fascinating.

She sighed. Why oh why couldn’t he have at least gotten a wart or two?

Sharp pounding on the door behind her jerked her from her thoughts. Had Zach come back? Savannah jumped to her feet, grateful that the strength had returned to her legs. She’d made the mistake earlier of not checking the peephole. This time she would check, and if it was Zach or anyone else she didn’t want to talk to, she’d simply not answer.

Standing on her toes, she peeked and then wearily shook her head. No way could she not open the door. No matter how tired or dispirited you were, you never turned away family. Shoulders straight, she braced herself and opened the door.

“Hey there, Aunt Gibby.”

“Land sakes, Savannah Rose, why’d it take you so long?”

Before Savannah could respond, the woman was pulling her forward for a hard, quick one-armed hug. Aunt Gibby didn’t do anything slow, including hugging.

Savannah never even considered offering the excuse of being too tired for company. Not that the statement would stop Gibby. The older woman strode into the house with the confident air of one who knew she was always welcome. In one hand, she held a casserole—that had most likely been in the freezer since the millennium—and in the other hand, a jug of sweet tea.

Savannah followed the elderly woman into the kitchen, searching for a way to shorten the visit without hurting her feelings. She was coming up blank.

Aunt Gibby, who had been part of the Wilde sisters’ lives since their birth, was neither their aunt nor was her name Gibby. She was Granddad’s second cousin twice removed and her real name was Lorna Jean Wilcox. She’d been Gibby for so long, very few people even knew her actual name. Everyone called her Gibby.

Her eyes round with a seemingly innocent curiosity, Gibby asked, “Was that Chief Tanner leaving?”

Savannah didn’t bother to answer. One of the many things she had always appreciated about Gibby, especially in this instance, was that she rarely required a response, because she answered most of her questions herself.

“Of course it was.” Gibby nodded knowingly. “You two probably had a lot to talk about. Not seeing each other for all these years. Didn’t look like you visited long, since he just finished taking care of that nonsense at Gertie’s. I swan, I don’t know what this world’s coming to.”

Savannah allowed the older woman’s chatter to flow around her. Not having to answer was a blessing, since she was still reeling from her previous visitor. It didn’t help to know that Zach might not even have come over at all if it hadn’t been for her boss alerting him to the threats made against her. He’d come to tell her he would protect her, just as he would any citizen of Midnight—she was no different. How stupid to be hurt by something she already knew.

“And with the rash of crime we’ve had lately, I’m surprised he had time to visit at all.”

Savannah tuned in at that comment. “Midnight has a crime spree?”

As if she realized she’d finally caught Savannah’s attention, Gibby’s expression grew livelier. “Well, mostly just vandalism so far, but there have been a couple of break-ins, too. I’ve heard more than one person say that Chief Tanner’s job could be in jeopardy.”

Silly, since she knew nothing about Zach anymore or his competency as a law enforcement officer, but she still felt the need to defend him. “Criticizing is a lot easier than being part of the solution. I’m sure Zach’s doing everything he can to catch the people responsible. He needs the town’s support, not their criticism.”

Instantly she knew she’d said the wrong thing. Aunt Gibby’s sherry-brown eyes were almost glowing as she exclaimed, “Bless your heart, honey, you still love him, don’t you? Even though you were both so young and he broke your heart, I don’t know how many times I told Esme and Beth-Anne that the love you two had was the forever kind that just don’t die. I remember how you used to look at each other when you thought nobody was watching. It was just the sweetest thing.”

Refusing to get into a discussion on her feelings for Zach, then or now, Savannah shook her head. “Law enforcement officials get a bum rap a lot of times. They’re often overworked and underappreciated. It’s nothing more than that.”

Salt-and-pepper eyebrows arched over Gibby’s twinkling eyes, the doubtful look saying she wasn’t one bit convinced. Considering how weak and ineffectual her words sounded, Savannah wasn’t convinced, either. She felt nothing for Zach, other than a lingering sense of disappointment. But that was only natural. She had trusted him and he’d let her down.

Her tired mind struggling to come up with a different subject, Savannah was surprised when Gibby did it for her. “So who’s the young man you’re seeing now?”

Savannah searched her memory for the name of the last man she had dated. Dan something or other. He’d been a friend of a friend—a blind date. They’d spent a boring evening together. Dan was in advertising and wanted to talk about their newest client, a large shoe manufacturer. He’d made the statement that because she was a woman, he was sure she would be interested in talking about shoes. Savannah had spent the evening hiding her yawns. Since they’d met at the restaurant, they’d ended their date the instant dessert was finished. She had never heard from him again, for which she was extremely grateful. But that had been over a year ago, and she hadn’t dated anyone since.

She raised her gaze to answer and swallowed the vague, evasive reply she had planned to give. Gibby would have made an excellent attorney. The piercing, speculative look said she wouldn’t settle for anything but the full truth. Suddenly wishing for anyone, including Zach, to knock on the door, Savannah scrambled for a satisfactory answer. One that would keep the woman from pursuing further questions. Telling her that she was too focused on her career to consider getting serious with anyone would only start the woman on an endless tirade of “You’re not getting any younger,” along with the ever-popular reference to her biological clock.

Just as Savannah opened her mouth, still not sure what she was going to say, the doorbell rang. Deciding someone up there really did like her, she jumped to her feet and dashed out of the kitchen. Anyone other than the devil himself would be invited in for a visit. She opened the door and quickly reversed that thought.

Savannah stared at Zach, who once again stood before her. She kept the door half-closed and put her polite mask back on. “Did you forget something?”

“Yeah.” He handed her a small card. “Here’s my cellphone and home numbers. Call me if you hear or see anything suspicious.”

“Couldn’t I just dial 911?”

“Savannah, I’m not looking for an argument. I just—”

“Is that you, Zach?”

Before she could stop him, Zach pushed the door open and stuck his head inside. “Hi, Miss Gibby. How’re you doing?”

“Just fine. In fact, Savannah and I were just about to sit down for a little supper of chicken almondine casserole. My specialty. Why don’t you come in and join us?”

Savannah kept her eyes focused on Zach, her glare telling him he’d better not accept, as she answered her aunt. “I’m sure Chief Tanner already has dinner plans. We wouldn’t want to—”

“Actually I don’t, and that sounds right up my alley. Thank you, Miss Gibby, I’d be pleased to join you.”

Before she knew it, Zach was inside the house, walking beside the older woman as they headed into the kitchen. Savannah stood in the foyer, speechless. Zach stopped at the door to the kitchen and turned back. The grin he shot her brought back memories that she’d successfully squelched for years.

“You coming?”

She took a breath, straightened her shoulders, and headed toward the kitchen. She could do this. There were worse things than having a very brief meal with the handsome, sexy man who’d broken her heart. Odd that she couldn’t think of any right now.

Zach sat at the kitchen table and eyed Savannah as she scurried around the room setting the dishes before them, pouring tea into glasses, and generally avoiding looking at him. She didn’t want him here—that much was obvious. Her hostility bothered him but he couldn’t blame her. What he had done was unforgivable. He had known that, though at the time it had made perfect sense.

“Chief, would you like lemon for your tea?” Gibby asked.

“Yes, ma’am. But you know you don’t have to call me Chief, Miss Gibby. Zach’ll do just fine.”

The older woman blushed and giggled like a young girl. Zach hid a smile and glanced over at Savannah, who had just sat down to his left. The daggerlike looks she was throwing him made it clear she wasn’t as easily charmed as her aunt.

“Any ideas on who’s responsible for all these vandalisms the last few weeks?” Gibby asked.

His mouth loaded with the odd-tasting food, Zach swallowed hard and then took in a mouthful of iced tea to wash the taste away. “No, ma’am, not yet.”

“That’s a real shame.”

He could think of a lot more colorful phrases for it.

“What kind of vandalisms?”

This was the first contribution Savannah had made to the conversation, and despite himself, his heart thudded at just hearing her voice.

“Mostly graffiti on buildings. This last episode of firecrackers in the dryers makes me wonder if they’re going in a new direction.”

“You think it’s the same people?” Savannah asked.

“That’s my theory. Low-level pranks. Minimum effort in each case. Just enough to cause havoc.”

“Any suspects?”

He almost smiled at the rapid rate of Savannah’s questions. She had a prosecutor’s expression on her beautiful face. Damn, he’d love to see her in a courtroom.

“None yet,” he answered. “Just a couple of theories.”

His attention moved away from Savannah when Gibby clapped her hands together. Her eyes twinkling with excitement, she said, “I just had a brilliant idea. You and Savannah should talk about your theories and ideas. With both of you working on it together, you’d be able to—”

“Aunt Gibby, I’m here to ready the house for sale, not to assist in a police case. Besides,” she continued, her gaze barely skimming his, “I’m sure Zach has all the help he needs without me interfering.”

“Actually I’d be happy to get your take on it.”

Surprise flickered and then was doused by alarm. For an instant, she’d looked terrified. What was that about? Hell, was she afraid to be around him?

With the expression of a satisfied fat tabby who’d just consumed a large rodent, Gibby said, “Excellent. I’m sure you’ll find the culprit in no time.” Before either he or Savannah could respond, she changed the subject. “How’s your mama gettin’ along? Seems like a month of Sundays since we heard any news of her.”

The beautiful woman to his left shifted, her interest apparent. No wonder. He hadn’t been prone to sharing much about his family life back then. Not that discussing his mother had been necessary—her liaisons hadn’t exactly been a secret. He ignored the small, insidious voice that reminded him that wasn’t entirely true. There had been one he hadn’t known about, and it’d ended up being the most important one of all.

“She’s doing fine. She and Lenny are still living in Pascagoula.”

“And that brother of yours? He still in the military?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Zach didn’t even bother to keep the pride out of his voice as he continued, “He completed his Navy SEAL training a couple of months ago.”

“Josh is a Navy SEAL?” Savannah said. “I hadn’t heard.”

A grin split Zach’s face, a usual occurrence when he was talking about his little brother. “I almost pounded him for not going army but he was on a set course.”

Her beautiful mouth curved in a fleeting smile that was gone before he could appreciate it. “You’re still very proud of him.”

“The proudest. Kid turned out all right.”

Gibby piped in, “Thanks to you, Zach Tanner.”

Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Zach turned his attention back to his meal. It might not be the tastiest he’d had in a while, but at least it kept him away from Savannah’s too-penetrating gaze. Her eyes had lost their earlier animosity, which was a welcome change. If she wanted to talk about Josh, he had no problem. He could talk about his younger brother all day long. But when the conversation drifted toward himself, he’d just as soon not go there.

“Who’s ready for dessert?” Gibby asked.

“I don’t think I have anything to serve,” Savannah answered. “I asked the service that’s been cleaning the house to stock the kitchen with some staples, but I doubt that there’s anything suitable for—”

“Nonsense, Savannah. Every self-respecting Southern woman stocks something for her man to satisfy his sweet tooth.” The older woman sprang to her feet with the energy of someone forty years younger. As Zach watched in amusement and Savannah in apparent dismay, she opened the refrigerator, freezer, and pantry and then, not satisfied, began to open the cabinets. When she turned around, triumph on her plump, round face, she held a bag of Oreo cookies.

Zach jumped to his feet. “I’ll get the milk.”

Savannah slumped in her chair, realizing that she’d been speechless more in the last two hours than she had in the last ten years. Her kitchen had been taken over by lunatics. She glanced at Zach’s almost-full plate and decided one mystery was solved. Poor guy couldn’t take any more of the hideous casserole. Cookies and milk for dinner probably sounded like a reprieve from hell. She had managed only one small bite herself.

Aunt Gibby was one of the kindest, most loving people in the world, but she was also the worst cook. Had this been a fresh casserole, Savannah figured it would have been edible if not very good. From the taste of this one, it had been in the freezer for at least a couple of years, maybe more. Gibby was a self-proclaimed freezer queen, claiming that the appliance was the greatest invention since the automobile.

Hoping to save both herself and Zach from having to explain why they hadn’t eaten their meal, Savannah went to her feet and grabbed their plates. “I’ll just make room.” She dashed to the sink and started rinsing the dishes, dumping the contents of both plates into the garbage disposal. When all evidence had disappeared, she turned to find Aunt Gibby and Zach sitting at the kitchen table with giant glasses of milk, both of them scraping the insides of their cookies with their teeth and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

An astonishing feeling of contentment swept over her—something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Blaming her giddiness on exhaustion, Savannah nevertheless got into the spirit. “That’s not right. Let me show you the proper way to eat an Oreo.” She plopped down into her chair, grabbed the glass of milk Zach had poured for her and a cookie from the package, and then dunked. She quickly put the soggy cookie in her mouth and closed her eyes as the chocolate and cream melted on her tongue. “Delicious.” She opened her eyes to find Zach staring at her, an odd expression on his face, almost one of pain.

Mentally shaking her head at the odd thought, Savannah devoured four cookies and her glass of milk.

Aunt Gibby finished her milk and stood. “Well, I’d better get home or Oscar and Samson will think I’ve abandoned them.”

“Oscar and Samson?” Savannah asked.

“That’s right, you haven’t met my new additions.” Her eyes watered briefly. “When I lost Niblet two years ago this past spring, I figured it’d take two cats to replace him. Oscar and Samson are brothers from the same litter and are both rapscallions. You’ll have to come over and introduce yourself.”

Savannah stood and started clearing the table. “I’ll try to do that soon, but I have my work cut out for me here for a while.” Placing the lid on the casserole dish, she held it out for Gibby to take.

“No, darling. You keep the casserole so you can have something for lunch tomorrow. Just bring the dish back when you come for your visit.”

The instant the older woman was out the door, the casserole would go down the drain. “Thank you, Aunt Gibby. You’re always so thoughtful.”

“That’s what family’s for. Your granddaddy knew that better than anyone.”

As the three of them walked toward the front door, Savannah was glad to see that Zach had his keys in his hand. The shock of seeing him again was wearing off, leaving her feeling weak and drained.

“I’ll walk you to your car, Miss Gibby,” Zach said.

She patted his arm. “Thank you, dear boy.” Her arms reached up and pulled Savannah toward her for a long, hard hug and a whisper of advice in her ear: “Don’t let him get away from you this time. He’s a keeper.”

Before Savannah could even consider responding, Gibby went through the door, with Zach holding her arm. She turned before she got to the steps and said, “I expect you’ll be busy this week, so I’ll leave you to your packing. Pick me up for church Sunday at eight forty-five, though. And it’s the monthly social after worship, so be sure to bring your mama’s peach cobbler.”

“Aunt Gibby, I’m only here for a short time and I have so much—”

“Nonsense. There’s always time to worship the Lord and eat a good country meal. Get some sleep now. You’re looking a bit peaked.”

Zach gave her a searching glance and said, “It was good to see you again, Savannah. Call if you need me.”

A slight nod seemed to be the safest response. Savannah waited until Zach and Aunt Gibby were down the steps and headed to the driveway before she closed the door. Leaning back against it again, she blew out a huge sigh. So much for wanting to fly under the radar. Not only would she be seeing most of the town on Sunday, there’d been a definite promise in Zach’s eyes. He was going to want to talk.

Dwelling on that would get her nowhere. Savannah pushed away from the wall and went in to finish the few remaining dishes. Once that was done, she grabbed the overnight bag she’d dropped on the floor and made her way up the stairs. At the top of the landing, she veered left. With eight bedrooms on the second floor and an additional three on the third floor, she could have her pick. However, she automatically went to the room that had been hers the first eighteen years of her life.

She stopped at the door and took in the memories. Pale green walls with pink rosebuds—she’d picked out the wallpaper three days before her mother was killed. Her bed was a copy of a nineteenth-century cherry sleigh bed she’d seen in a magazine. Her grandfather had surprised her with it on her fifteenth birthday. Sammie and Bri had gotten new beds, too, but she’d always thought hers was the prettiest. To the left of the bed was a cherry and marble vanity where she’d sat for hours, most often trying to tame her hair. And hanging from the mirror were Mardi Gras beads she’d collected on her last celebration in Mobile.

So many wonderful memories, but so much heartache, too. Ten years of happy childhood had been destroyed in one brief, inexplicable act of violence. The betrayal she and her sisters had felt had overwhelmed them. Now, after eighteen years, her hurt had been replaced with sad acceptance and an intense bitterness toward her father. All the warm, wonderful memories she had of him had evaporated as if they’d never existed. Rarely did she even let herself think about him.

Savannah dropped her bag on the floor and headed out of the bedroom. The night after she lost her parents and every night until she left home, she had gone to her mother’s sitting room and said good night. A silly tradition, but one she couldn’t break. This house would soon belong to someone else and she’d no longer have the opportunity.

As she made her way to the other side of the house where her parents’ rooms had been, she took a few seconds to glance at the photographs on the walls. If one took the time to view them all, the entire history of the Wildes was portrayed. Weddings, graduations, parties, holidays, and new babies covered the walls in a vast array of tradition and family unity.

Approaching the area where the most current photographs were displayed, Savannah let her eyes briefly whisk over the ones that included Beckett Wilde. Knowing the pain his granddaughters were going through, her grandfather had removed the ones of her father the day after her parents’ funeral. He had replaced them after she and her sisters left home. A few of the pictures were of Beckett when he was much younger—a child, then a teen.

Her eyes swept over a family portrait they’d had taken the winter before their happy family had been destroyed. Anyone not knowing the events would assume they were looking at a loving, close-knit family, including a husband and father who adored his wife and children.

Unable to stop herself, her gaze moved to her father’s high school senior portrait. Even with her prejudice, she couldn’t deny that he had been an extremely handsome man. At just over six feet, with broad shoulders and strong arms, he had seemed larger than life to her; she’d thought he was the most beautiful man on the planet. His medium-brown slightly curly hair was longer in the picture than the way she remembered him. With a dazzling smile, twinkling blue eyes, and a deep, infectious laugh, he’d been able to charm almost everyone. Savannah stared deep into those eyes, looking for the killer that lurked behind them. If the eyes were a mirror to the soul, somehow he had been able to hide that spark of evil. All she saw was a seemingly uncomplicated, charming man with a hint of mischievousness. Nothing more.

Her eyes shifted to the portrait beside Beckett Wilde’s. It was of Maggie, his beautiful wife, Savannah’s mother. The photo showed a lovely woman with honey-blond hair and eyes the color of ripe clover; a gentle, teasing smile played around her full lips as if she were on the verge of laughter. And the first ten years of Savannah’s life, that’s what she remembered most—the laughter.

Turning away from the photographs and painful memories, she went to her mother’s sitting room. Her grandfather had never changed anything about it. The room looked the same as it did the night Maggie Wilde was killed. Peaceful, serene, and filled with all the things she had loved and enjoyed. The sweater she’d been knitting as a Christmas gift for her husband lay on the arm of a chair. The book she’d been reading lay facedown on a side table. All the rooms in the mansion reflected Maggie Wilde in some way, but this room held the essence of who her mother had been: beauty, poise, laughter, and love—a beautiful, bright star that had been taken from her loved ones much too soon and in the most gruesome manner possible.

Savannah leaned against the doorjamb and whispered softly, “Good night, Mama. I miss you so much.”

And, as she’d done when she was a kid and had been needing and wanting her mother with a deep abiding ache, she waited for a response. As before, silence was her only answer.

Turning away with a sigh, Savannah headed back to her bedroom. Today had taken its toll and exhaustion enveloped her like a thick, soggy blanket. A good night’s sleep would bring perspective and a better outlook. Maybe she’d even figure out how she was going to avoid Zach while she was here. Because if tonight had proven anything at all, it was that the feelings he evoked in her were still as strong and volatile as ever. Which seemed ridiculous. What exactly did it take to destroy love?