Linda O. Johnston - Colton First Responder

“Yes, in the refrigerator, though it’s not cold.” She still looked and sounded wary.

“That’s fine. I’ll go get a bottle for me, then sit down over there.” He gestured toward the table. “Then we’ll talk, okay?”

“Do I have a choice?” Her voice sounded hoarse and he wished he could say something more to reassure her.

But what?

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “Only, I’m really not such a bad guy. Honest.”

“Honest?” she repeated. “Hah.” But when he looked at her, still standing not far from him, her posture seemed at least a little more relaxed. “Okay, let’s give this a try,” she said.

“Great. I’ll go get my water.” And Grayson headed to the refrigerator.

Oh, yes, he intended to talk with her. Maybe get her side of the story, since she had asserted her innocence.

And he didn’t think it was just their unusual circumstances at the moment that made him want to believe in her.

Savannah lowered the scissors as she watched Grayson get water from the refrigerator, then sit down. He placed the bottle in front of him beside his large flashlight.

What should she do? What could she do? She hoped he was telling the truth, that even as a first responder he wasn’t here to arrest her again, or call those in authority at the police station who’d bring her in. But even if he lied, she wasn’t really going to stab him. The best she could do would be to run out the door when he wasn’t looking, then continue running—in the near darkness. But where?

For now she would just remain alert and wary and hold a conversation. If he’d been telling the truth before, maybe it would be okay to talk with him.

But even then, when he was ready to go—well, would she be able to trust him not to turn her in, no matter what he said?

She would just have to see how things went.

Not that she could control them anyway. At least not entirely.

“So tell me what happened,” Grayson said as she sat down facing him, gently placing the scissors on the table before her but within reach. “Tell me how the van was struck and how you got out of it. I assume you’re aware the driver was killed.”

Savannah nodded solemnly. “Yes. His name was Ari. I... I didn’t know him well, but I did check on him when I finally got out of the van and...and...well, I’m not an expert like a first responder, but I tried to help him and didn’t see any sign of life.” She felt herself tear up. Well, she truly was sad about the situation.

Grayson. She had seen him at parties and social events now and then. They were from similar backgrounds, since their families were both among the Mustang Valley elite. She had enjoyed those kinds of festivities, even after she married Zane.

But Savannah hadn’t paid much attention to Grayson—except to notice his good looks. His body tall and slim, yet muscular, beneath the high-end clothing he generally wore at parties, his well-styled dark brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes. He wore his current outfit well, too—a long-sleeved black T-shirt with a neon emergency vest over it. His stubble was trimmed short and added to his sexiness. Of course, she hadn’t been interested in how attractive a man he might have been when she believed she had most recently seen him, although she couldn’t recall exactly when it had been. But she believed now that she had still been married, and though her marriage was ending she certainly wasn’t interested in flirting with someone else. And with Grayson—well, she had gotten the impression he wasn’t thrilled about being at most of those parties, that his family had twisted his arm to come. She knew he wasn’t part of the family business, Colton Oil.

“I assume you found Ari’s... Ari,” she continued, choosing not to use the term “body.”

He nodded. “I wasn’t able to get a response, though, and neither did the EMTs that Mustang Valley General Hospital sent after my 911 call.”

“I’m sorry,” Savannah said.

“You were in the back of his van, right? Was he moving you from the state prison somewhere?”

She felt her eyes grow huge as she reached slowly for her bottle of water and stared at it—but she shouldn’t have been surprised at Grayson’s spot-on guess. She’d been in the news, as much as she hated that. As much as she hated all of this.

“Yes,” she said quietly. That was close enough. Ari had been moving her from court back to prison, but she didn’t choose to elaborate.

“So you were able to escape unharmed,” Grayson stated. He took a swig from his bottle, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “That’s a good thing, especially since you already told me you didn’t kill your husband. And I assume that’s the truth.”

“It is.” She kept her voice low but wanted to scream it out—the truth. Instead, she glanced toward the door. Should she run now?

Would Grayson grab her?

But when she looked back toward him, he hadn’t moved. He was watching her, though, with an expression on that handsome face of his that suggested amusement.

Amusement? When her entire life had been turned upside down, and he now was in a position to possibly ruin her tiny, precarious opportunity for freedom that resulted from an unpredicted earthquake?

“Got it,” he said. “Now, want to tell me about it?”

Grayson was used to finding people in difficult positions and not only helping them physically but mentally, too. To doing all he could to assure their survival in all ways.

This beautiful woman he had met several times before appeared totally fragile now—and frightened. Of him.

Which he understood. But he didn’t like it. And he wanted to help her in all ways.

And there was something he’d recalled about her, how well she had treated someone at one of the parties they’d both attended, that told him she was the kind of person who helped people, too—and didn’t kill them. In fact, she had helped to save the life of a woman who had just been extremely nasty to her.

“I really don’t like talking about the situation with Zane,” she said now. “And there’s really not much to tell. What’s out there is all lies.”

Well, she could be lying, too, of course. But he wanted to hear her side of it, since the media often liked to take things out of context and exaggerate them, even stress the nastiest facts—anything for a good story, although they also did base it on truth most of the time. Or so he believed.

So even though Grayson could in fact bring Savannah back to the appropriate authorities, no matter what he’d told her, or could just leave her here to do whatever she wanted, he still would rather hear her side of the story before deciding.

“Convince me,” he said with a smile he hoped she would interpret as friendly.

For now, at least, it was.

“Okay. Let’s start with the fact I don’t believe Zane is dead.”

That startled him a bit. With all the news and hype, he’d considered that a given. “Really?”

“Really,” she replied. “My ex is missing. I’ll admit that’s true. But I didn’t kill him and hide his body somewhere, and don’t believe anyone else did, either. We’d stopped caring about each other quite a while ago but our divorce was only final about a month ago. He blamed it on me, made some pretty nasty allegations that were totally untrue, that I’d been unfaithful when he was the one having affairs...and he was furious with me for wanting a divorce. And—well, I can’t prove it yet, but I believe he even got one of his friends to help him and frame me, while he’s off somewhere, maybe even someplace as remote as Bali. He used to talk about going there someday. Wherever he is, I’m sure he’s checking what’s going on from his computer and otherwise—and laughing his head off. He’s undoubtedly considering his revenge against me sweet. And this way, he might even be able to keep my part of the divorce settlement.”