Midnight Secrets

chapter

TWELVE


Two hours later, Savannah locked the door and closed the plantation blinds on the first floor. She had sat through depositions involving gruesome crimes that had been more pleasant than the visit she’d just had with Sylvia Johnston and Carrie Long. Within five minutes of their arrival, she had realized they were here for only one reason—to determine if she had come back to Midnight for Zach.

Not that they’d asked her outright if she was still interested in her old boyfriend. She almost wished they had, since that might have shortened their visit. Instead they talked around the subject.

Pride or just plain stubbornness had kept her from revealing any of her thoughts about Zach. Sylvia and Carrie’s frustration had been obvious. Savannah had ruthlessly used their frustration against them, and she now knew much more about Zach. When the women had left, they’d looked suitably confused, realizing they’d learned nothing new from Savannah.

That was it for today. She was through entertaining. With the blinds pulled, anyone who stopped by would assume she wasn’t at home. She’d been up for hours and all she had to show for it was a stomach roiling from too many sweets, a throbbing headache, and way more information than she’d ever wanted on the citizens of Midnight. With the exception of what she’d learned about Zach.

He was a war hero. That didn’t surprise Savannah. How many times had she marveled at how protective and caring he was when they were dating? Zach was a born protector. It was completely in keeping with his personality to have saved lives while he was in the service. That was one of the biggest reasons she had held on to hope for so long. No way would he leave her like that. He was too good, too honorable … too caring. Savannah pushed aside that old familiar pain.

As mayor, Lamont had information about the new police chief that others might not know. He’d said Zach didn’t like to talk about his experience in the army but that he had been an Army Ranger and had both a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart.

A Purple Heart. That meant that Zach had been wounded. That knowledge hurt much more than Savannah wanted it to.

And thanks to Sylvia and Carrie, she had also learned that Chief Tanner was considered the best catch in town. Apparently every unmarried female between the ages of twenty and forty had set their sights on him.

As she walked up the stairway, Savannah rubbed her neck to relieve the tension of the morning. First aspirin and then work. Becoming entangled in the news and goings-on in Midnight was pointless, even if that included learning more about Zach. Not that she was that interested. She mentally rolled her eyes. Who was she kidding? Love him or hate him, Zach had always fascinated her. And the way it was going, every person she met was going to want to talk about him. Might as well soak up all she could. When she returned to Nashville, she’d have to go cold turkey.

After downing three aspirin tablets, Savannah headed into her grandfather’s room. The instant she opened the door, the scents she always associated with her granddad—Lagerfeld cologne and pipe smoke—brought the memories back so vividly, she could almost imagine he was in the room with her.

She took a moment to walk around the room, touching a comb on his dresser, opening a music box that had been her grandmother’s, picking up his favorite pipe that he always kept beside his bed.

He had stopped smoking cigarettes when her grandmother got sick. After she died, he’d developed a pipe-smoking habit. No, actually, come to think of it, he’d started smoking the pipe only after her parents’ deaths. The stress of raising three granddaughters and losing his son and daughter-in-law had probably had a lot to do with that.

However stressful it had been for him, she couldn’t imagine anyone doing a better job.

She gazed around the large room he’d once shared with her grandmother. Camille Wilde had passed away when Savannah was five. Though she barely remembered her, Daniel Wilde had done what he could to help his granddaughters realize what a phenomenal person his wife had been. One of the many reasons she’d admired her grandfather so much was how he had loved his wife. And despite the fact that he’d only been in his early fifties when she’d passed away, he had never remarried. As far as she knew, he’d never even dated again. She smiled as she remembered how she and her sisters had tried to come up with women he might be interested in so he wouldn’t be alone. They’d played matchmaker for a couple of months until he had caught on and had gently explained that no one could replace Camille in his heart and he was perfectly content to stay single for the rest of his life.

She went to the bureau at the far end of the room. First she’d empty the drawers and then call the churches to see if they wanted his clothes. If not, she might have them shipped to a homeless shelter in Mobile. She opened the first drawer and was immediately swamped with the memory of her first piano recital. She hadn’t wanted to take piano lessons. She had been eleven years old, and by then, all she had wanted to do was bury herself in her books—they were the only things that made sense to her in a world that had become so chaotic. Her grandfather had insisted she try, promising her if she didn’t like it after the first month, she could quit. Six years later, she had still been taking piano. And despite her intense shyness, she had enjoyed playing in the school recitals.

Taking out the program of that first recital, she opened it to the first page and was surprised to see her grandfather had written a note beside her name. His handwriting was a bit scratchy but it looked something like You would be so proud of her, son.

She dropped the program and closed the drawer, vaguely disturbed by the words. They had rarely talked about her father after her parents’ deaths. Any mention of his name usually ended up with her or one of her sisters crying. Her grandfather had respected their wishes and avoided bringing him up. Savannah suddenly felt guilty for that. Even though he had killed their mother and destroyed their happy family, Beckett had still been her grandfather’s only child. How he must have grieved for him.

Unsettled by her thoughts, she turned away. Maybe the closets first. Then later, when she wasn’t feeling so emotionally raw, she’d sort through his dresser and bureau for the more personal things. She crossed the room and opened the large walk-in closet. Suits, sweaters, jackets, shirts, and pants were all neatly hanging. Shoes, all with a military shine, gleamed at her from their shelf. Taking a deep breath, Savannah set to work.

Three hours later, she had reached the back of the closet and was almost at the end of her energy. Thankfully her grandfather hadn’t been a clotheshorse or a pack rat, but still there’d been more clothes than she had anticipated. Seven boxes were now packed with a nice assortment of clothing that someone, somewhere, would be able to put to good use.

The doorbell had rung three times in as many hours. She was glad she had closed the blinds and not answered. Making social calls and knowing the ins and outs of one another’s lives was part of the culture here. So different from a big city like Nashville, where one could go days or weeks without seeing a neighbor.

Her arms loaded with sweaters, Savannah turned. A tall, mountainous figure stood at the entrance to the closet. She squeaked out a small squeal and dropped the sweaters on her feet.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you. I rang the bell and knocked several times. When no one answered, I got concerned.”

Hands on her hips, Savannah glared at Zach. “I wasn’t answering the door because I have so much to do. And how the hell do you have a key to the house, anyway?”

Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Your grandfather never changed his spare-key hiding spot. Can’t believe that fake rock in the flower bed is still there.”

She stepped around the pile of sweaters and held out her hand. “I’ll take the key and put it away. I didn’t realize it was still there.”

Instead of handing the key to her, he looked down at the pile of clothes at her feet. “Need some help?”

Stooping down, she grabbed up the load of sweaters and marched toward the door. Zach thankfully backed away, allowing her out of the closet that was becoming more than a little claustrophobic.

She dumped the clothes on the bed and turned to face him. Before she could ask why he was here, he whistled and said, “You’ve gotten a lot done already.”

Her eyes shifted away from him and took in the scene. All of these boxes and only two small moments where she’d broken into tears. One had been caused by the half pack of Juicy Fruit gum she’d found in a jacket—her grandfather had rarely been without gum in his pocket and Juicy Fruit had been his favorite. The other time was when she’d found a cashmere scarf he’d carefully folded and put in a bottom drawer. The scarf had been a gift from her mother, given to him for Christmas … the last Christmas they’d all been together.

As she swallowed around another inconvenient lump, a thought suddenly occurred to her. “There are still lots of nice things here that aren’t too outdated. I know Granddad would have been pleased if you took some of them. He was thinner but you guys were about the same height.”

The instant she said the words, she regretted them. Zach had grown up incredibly poor. She had meant nothing by her offer other than wanting the clothes to go to someone her grandfather had liked. However, offering Zach used clothes was probably not the most diplomatic thing she could have done.

Thankfully he didn’t seem to see it as an insult. “I appreciate that.” He stepped toward the bed and pulled a navy cable-knit sweater from the pile.

Savannah smiled, not surprised to see him select that particular one. It had been her grandfather’s Saturday morning sweater. In the short time they had dated, Zach had come for breakfast almost every Saturday. Granddad was always wearing that sweater … even during the summer months. Daniel Wilde had been a traditionalist; she had loved his predictability. He had provided the wonderful normalcy and security she and her sisters had so desperately needed.

“His Saturday morning sweater was one of his favorites.”

He shot her a glance. “I’ll wear it Saturday morning in his honor.”

Emotions clutched at her heart. Before she could get all misty-eyed again, she said, “What are you doing here again?”

“I need to talk to you about something.” Before she could ask what, he said, “I brought dinner.”

She swallowed a laugh. He’d probably brought dinner to prevent her heating up more of Aunt Gibby’s casserole. When she didn’t respond immediately, he added, “It’s from Captain Jimmy’s.”

Her heart and stomach leaped in glee. That had been one of their favorite places to eat when they were dating. It’d been cheap and good. “Gumbo and fried catfish?”

A smile she hadn’t seen in ten years flashed over his face. “Hush puppies and slaw, too.”

Savannah headed to the door. “I’ll set the table and pour the tea.”

Zach released a quiet, relieved sigh as he followed Savannah down the stairs. She had every right to demand he leave. Coming in uninvited hadn’t exactly been his brightest idea, but ever since he’d seen the graffiti this morning, her safety had been a concern. The dinner was a cheap bribe. He knew if he could get her to open the door, the food was his magic key inside. He hadn’t anticipated that she wouldn’t answer the door. Alarm had zoomed through him that something had happened. Before he knew it, he was looking for the hidden key. Yesterday, she had told him she had a gun—he was damn lucky she hadn’t shot him.

He had never been one to overreact, but with Savannah he’d often done so, and in extreme ways. Zach refused to question why after ten years nothing had changed.

The next hurdle would be getting her on board with his plan. Gibby’s suggestion last night had given him the idea. Would Savannah see through it to his real reason—mainly just to be with her? He mentally shrugged. It was worth a shot.

Grabbing up the box of food he’d placed at the front door after he’d come into the house, he headed to the kitchen. Savannah had already filled their glasses with ice and was now placing plates and silverware on the kitchen table.

“I made fresh tea this morning. That okay with you? Or I have Coke, if you’d rather.”

Shaking his head, he put the box of food on the table and began to unload. “Tea sounds good. It’s been a hot one today.”

She poured tea into the glasses. “I didn’t even see the sun today.”

“I passed by around noon and saw that Carrie and Sylvia were keeping you company.”

“I guess you could call it that.”

“You’re exciting news to Midnight. Not every day a favorite daughter returns.”

Her nose scrunched in a cute grimace. “We both know I was never a favorite of anyone’s. But thanks all the same.”

He disagreed. She’d been a favorite of his from the day he’d met her. But bringing that up would be sure to spoil the easy atmosphere they had going right now.

“I did learn something interesting from Sylvia and Carrie, though.”

He took a bite of a crunchy hush puppy and swallowed. “What’s that?”

“Apparently you’re the number one catch in Midnight.”

It was Zach’s turn to grimace. “That’s because ninety percent of the male population here is either married or over eighty.”

She laughed and popped a piece of catfish into her mouth and then closed her eyes on a groan. “Oh my gosh, I’d forgotten how good this stuff is.”

Mesmerized, Zach couldn’t look away. She was just so damn beautiful and still didn’t seem to be aware of her appeal. That had been one of the first things that had attracted him to her. Savannah had always been self-deprecating about her looks, saying that Samantha and Sabrina were the beautiful ones. And without a doubt her sisters were attractive, but compared to Savannah, they were poor imitations of the real thing.

“I’ve heard more gossip in the last twenty-four hours than I have in twenty years, most of it surrounding you.”

He cleared his throat. “You know a lot of the gossip in this town is fabrication.”

She tilted her head, her brows arching slightly. “So why’d you come back here? Ten years ago, you hated everything about this town and couldn’t wait to leave it behind.”

Zach didn’t bother to tell her that her statement wasn’t quite true. He hadn’t hated everything. He took a long swallow of tea and shrugged. “At first, I had no intention of staying. My plan was to sell my house and go someplace as far from here as possible.”

“What changed your mind?”

Another opportunity to delve into the past, and one he wasn’t prepared to take right now. If they could keep up this easy back-and-forth for a little while longer, then maybe, at some point, he could open up the gnawing dark abyss that contained the truth. For now, he relished being able to speak to her without the open hostility she’d shown before. The less seedy side of why he had decided to make Midnight his home was his safest bet.

The chair creaked beneath him as he leaned back into it and stared over her head, remembering. “The town was the same but oddly different. The house needed a hell of a lot of work before I could even consider selling it. Concentrating on that project, doing business in the town, getting to know the people again as an adult …” He shrugged. “I don’t know … it suddenly began to feel like home. For the most part, with the exception of a few, people treated me as an equal.” He shrugged again. “Guess I got a different perspective of everything.”

“But why police chief?”

“Chief Mosby’s issues with me go way back. When I came back, it was about the same. Didn’t matter that I was an adult with a fairly impressive military record. Every time there was a crime he couldn’t immediately solve, I was called in as the prime suspect. Pissed me off. When I heard about his retirement, it got me to thinking. The law in this town has been suspect for years. I knew I could do a damn sight better. I took law enforcement courses in college and thought I might apply to the police academy in one of the larger cities one day. With a little urging from a few friends, I threw my hat into the ring. I think everyone was shocked when I was offered the job.”

Light green eyes twinkled with gentle humor. “I still can’t believe you’re the law around here.”

He grinned. “Just mind your manners and you’ll be fine.” His eyes narrowed. “What about you? I thought your big dream was to be a defense attorney. Why a prosecutor instead?”

“About the time I started law school, I changed my mind.”

“Why’s that?”

“There was a murder-suicide case in Nashville. Only the suicide didn’t happen. The guy lived through his attempt and pled temporary insanity. Got off with a slap on the wrist and some counseling. I followed the case closely and was convinced that he had never intended to die. Temporary insanity had just been his out. Made me rethink what kind of career I wanted.”

Didn’t take a psychiatrist to interpret why she’d changed her mind. Understandably her parents’ deaths had made a huge impact on her life.

“You like what you do?”

“ ‘Like’ might be too strong of a word. When I win a case, I’m relieved, knowing justice has been served. When I lose, it bothers me more than what’s probably healthy. But to know I’m doing some good by getting criminals off the street and bringing justice for the victims … yeah, that satisfies me in a way I didn’t anticipate.”

What would she say if he told her he had come to Nashville to see her? He wouldn’t tell her that … at least not tonight. There would be too many questions. She would want to know everything. Before she left town, he would have no choice. This discussion had been delayed much too long. She hadn’t wanted to listen to his excuses years ago. And even though they weren’t any more substantial now, he needed to clear the air. Telling her wouldn’t erase the pain for either of them, but she needed the truth. Hell, she deserved a whole lot more than that, but the truth was at least a start.

For now he would just concentrate on rebuilding her trust and then he would see where that led. Getting his hopes up that it would lead to forgiveness was one thing. That it could go further than that wasn’t something he could even let himself consider. One step at a time was his only recourse. If forgiveness was all that she could give him, it was a hell of a lot more than he deserved.