“No, not really. They didn’t abandon me. They came to visit. I loved my grandmother. She gave me a stability that life with the Moore men didn’t offer, and when we lost Dad to a heart attack, she nursed me through my grief. She taught me to make soap and to do well in school. She encouraged me to join the softball team. I was offered a softball scholarship, I’ll have you know. To Notre Dame.”
“You were a ringer.” He snapped his fingers. “I knew it. So you met this cop when you were in South Bend?”
“No. I never went to Indiana. Two weeks before I was due to leave, my grandmother and I were up on the mountain when she fell and broke her hip. I ran to the nearest house for help. The woman who lived there had recently moved in. I hadn’t met her previously. Zach, she looks so much like Celeste Blessing that she could be her sister. Francine Vaughn helped me that day and was so kind. She and Grams became great friends. She had a phone with long-distance service and we didn’t. It took a lot of phone calls for me to make arrangements with Notre Dame to delay my enrollment for a year so I could help my grandmother. Francine was the one who offered to watch Grams on Tuesdays and Thursdays if I wanted to commute to the small junior college two hours away and get a few basic classes out of the way. That’s where I met her son, Kyle.”
“Kyle the cop?”
“Yes. He was a detective in the local police department. Kyle and I started dating. He was sweet to Grams and nice to me. I fell in love, blew off Notre Dame, and said yes when he asked me to marry him. Three weeks before the wedding, as I left my chemistry class, it happened.”
She shut her eyes as memories and old emotions rolled over her. She hadn’t let herself think about that awful time in so long. She didn’t want to think about it now. But when she sensed Zach moving closer, felt him take her hand, link their fingers, and give her a gentle, encouraging squeeze, she let herself go back.
ELEVEN
Eight Years Ago
The light turned green. Savannah stepped on the gas and pulled into the intersection. From the corner of her eye, she saw the car approach seconds before impact. She screamed as her airbag deployed and the car spun out of control.
It seemed forever before it stopped, though it took only seconds. Savannah grew aware of burning sensations on her face and arms. Breathing hard, she fumbled for the seat-belt release, opened the driver’s door, and stumbled out of the car. Okay. I’m okay.
“You all right, lady?”
She took it in with a glance. A pickup truck had run the red light and T-boned her car at the passenger-side rear axle. The driver was her father’s age, apparently unhurt, but watching her with a worried look on his face. “I’m okay.”
“I called 911. They should be—” He broke off abruptly, and Savannah heard the siren. “They’re here. That was fast. Good.”
A patrol car arrived on the heels of the ambulance. Savannah answered the paramedic’s questions, and when the policeman approached her, she responded to his in turn. “Yes, it’s my car.… Yes, the contents are mine.… Are my textbooks okay? They were in the backseat. Would you please call my fiancé? Officer Kyle Vaughn.”
The patrolman wrote down the name, asked for Kyle’s number, then turned her world upside down by repeating a string of all-too-familiar words. “Ms. Moore, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent …”
After that, things got a little fuzzy. She had only a vague memory of the three hundred thousand dollars in cash and plastic zip-top bags filled with pot. The lawyer from the public defender’s office told her about the search warrant for Grams’ house and barn.
She vividly recalled Kyle standing in the interrogation room, his expression earnest as he laced his fingers with hers. “I’ll stand by you, honey. I’m an excellent detective, I’ll figure out who set you up.”
And, months later, her fiancé stood in the witness box, one hand raised, the other on the Bible: “… nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
Francine leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “You stupid, naive girl.”
Handsome, clean-cut Kyle used a crisp, white handkerchief to wipe his eyes before he answered the prosecutor. “Yes, sir.