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?
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Depending upon the hour of the day, the clientele at Faye’s Diner was a varying mix of what made up the town of Midnight. The majority of early morning breakfast diners were retirees and farmers. Professionals and shopkeepers came at lunchtime; teenagers and families at night.
Zach knew exactly what to expect when he walked into the diner at six o’clock the next morning. The fragrances of frying bacon and homemade biscuits were almost overwhelmed by the scent of the collard greens Faye was preparing for the midday meal. He made a mental note not to come back for lunch. He’d eaten his fill of greens when he was a kid. They’d been abundant and easy to stuff into his backpack when no one was looking.
Dishes clattering, the hum of low-key conversation, and the latest country hit playing on the old jukebox in the corner came together to create a homey if somewhat stereotypical small-town Southern restaurant. But this place was special. He’d been all over the world and he’d never eaten better or cheaper food than what he could get at Faye’s.
Aware that the conversation had lulled seconds after he stepped foot in the door, Zach nodded at those who met his gaze but stayed focused on his goal—the counter where Faye stood, waiting to serve him the hottest, blackest coffee in all of Alabama. After the sleepless night he’d had, nothing else would do it for him.
No doubt everyone in the restaurant already knew that Savannah had returned home. The gossips could work faster than a chicken hawk in a henhouse. Zach didn’t question how news traveled so quickly. He’d seen it happen hundreds of times before. Though the town had embraced technology as lovingly as any modern city, email, Facebook, and Twitter had yet to replace the telephone. Nor had they replaced Faye’s Diner, Gertie’s Wash and Wait, or Tillie’s Hair Today. The juiciest tidbits could still be picked up while sipping coffee, waiting for your clothes to dry, or taking advantage of the newest