Survival Clause: A Savannah Martin Novel (Savannah Martin Mysteries Book 20), стр. 14
“That’s it,” Rafe nodded.
“It’s only about an hour’s drive, maybe a little less, so where were they during the five or six or however many hours they were together?”
“Coulda been parked in a corner of the lot in Nashville,” Rafe said. “Coulda been parked in a corner of the lot here. Coulda been parked somewhere along the way.”
“Wouldn’t somebody have heard…” I hesitated, “something?”
He arched a brow. “Screaming? Not sure anybody’d notice. A lot of the truckers pick up women, and when they park outta the way, the other truckers generally assume it’s for privacy. Besides, it’s easy to soundproof the cab of a truck. A lot of truckers do it just ‘cause the engine’s loud.”
And whatever they did to keep the sound of the engine out would work equally well to keep any sounds from within the cab in. Right.
“So nobody saw or heard anything.”
“Nobody I’ve talked to so far,” Rafe said.
“What’s next?”
He shrugged. “Talk to more people. And I oughta find out if somebody like the FBI has some sort of a task force going. If they do, they’re gonna want in. And they ain’t gonna be happy if they find out we kept it from them.”
I shook my head. “Probably best to stay on the right side of the FBI.”
Rafe nodded, and pushed his plate away. “I’m gonna go grab a shower if you don’t mind. Rinse some of the sweat and frustration off.”
“Go ahead,” I told him. “I’ll clean up.”
“Thanks for dinner, darlin’.” He dropped a kiss on top of my head on his way out of the kitchen. I finished eating while I listened to the rushing of water in the pipes. Pearl was snuffling on her pillow, and Carrie was cooing in her seat, trying to get a foot up to her face so she could gnaw on it.
When the phone chirped, I pulled it closer with one hand while I kept feeding myself pasta with the other. And saw Charlotte’s name and New iMessage on the screen.
“Uh-oh.”
New video, Charlotte told me.
I followed the link to Jessica Rabbit’s page, and saw that she—probably she—had uploaded another snippet of film of my husband, in his SWAT clothes and boots this time, leaving the police station and getting into his car. There were the usual heart-eyed emoji and verbal sighs, but less than last night’s and this morning’s video. Hopefully the rest of the public at large was starting to lose interest. And if that happened, maybe Jessica would lose interest, too. There was just the chance that she—probably she—was doing this for attention and not because she had any particular interest in my husband.
That wasn’t my biggest concern at the moment, though.
The pasta started to taste like sawdust in my mouth, so I stopped eating and started clearing the island, and putting the dishes into the dishwasher. When the kitchen was neat and tidy again, I stuck the phone in my pocket and picked up Carrie and her seat. “We’re moving to the parlor,” I told Pearl. “You can stay here if you want, or come with us.”
She contemplated me for a second, but when I headed across the floor and into the hallway, she got up and stretched and padded after me, her nails clicking on the hardwood floors.
Rafe joined us a couple of minutes later, dressed in faded jeans and a soft T-shirt, with his feet bare and his hair—what little he has—still wet.
“Come and look at this,” I told him. “Jessica Rabbit posted another video of you.”
He watched it in silence. It wasn’t long.
“Did you notice her this time?”
He glanced over at me. “Can’t say as I did, darlin’.”
“She didn’t call your name?”
He shook his head.
“If she’d had a gun,” I said, like I’d said earlier, “you’d be dead.”
He nodded. “Looks like I’m gonna have to be more careful tomorrow.”
“I wish you would. I’d also like to know whether you noticed anybody following you home tonight.”
“No,” Rafe said.
“No, you didn’t notice? Or no, nobody—”
His voice was clipped, but I don’t think he was upset with me. “Nobody followed me home. It takes training and experience to shadow somebody. And I’ve been trained to look for a tail. She’d have to be really good for me to miss her, and I don’t imagine she is.”
Most likely not. Most people aren’t good enough for that. And very few people have been trained.
“So she doesn’t know where we live.”
“I don’t imagine so,” Rafe said, and his voice slowed into more of his usual drawl when he continued. “Sorry, darlin’.”
“Goodness,” I told him, “you don’t have to apologize. I know you don’t want this.”
“No. Bringing something like this home’s the last thing I want.” He glanced over at Pearl, who had curled up on her pillow with her snout on her back legs. “Good thing you have protection.”
She might look placid now, but we both knew that if someone threatened me, Pearl would be all up in their business in no time, and it wouldn’t end well.
I nodded. “She’s healed well from the gunshot last month. I’d hate for something else to happen to her, but I’m glad to have her.”
We sat in silence a moment and watched the baby kicking her feet on the blanket and Pearl supervising.
“Looks like she’s trying to turn over,” Rafe said.
It did. “It’s about time for that. According to the books. She’s over four months.”
We watched for a little longer. Down on the floor, Carrie was rocking back and forth from side to side.
“After that,” I added, “she’ll start crawling.”
Rafe gave me a look. “Not sure I’m ready for that.”
I nodded. “I know. Me either. Once she starts moving around, she can run into things, and fall down the stairs, and get hurt…”
Rafe shuddered. Visibly. Down on the floor, as if to prove