Part 5 (1/2)
”That might be entertaining,” she mumbled to herself as they cuddled and stared into the fire, ”a shark spitting out a mouthful of feathers.”
”What?” Dirk turned and looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. ”What did you say?”
”Oh, nothing. Do you think sharks sneeze?”
He shook his head and sighed. ”Savannah, you're a very strange woman.”
”Yes, I am. Don't ever forget that.”
”Not likely.” He reached down, took her hand, and folded it between his. ”Since you're asking silly questions, I've got one for you.”
”Shoot.”
He nodded toward the mantel. ”How do they get a s.h.i.+p inside a bottle, like that one there? I checked and there's no hole in the bottle or seam where they glued it or anything like that.”
”It's a secret.”
”Well, yeah. I figured that. Do you know the secret?”
”Yes. Grandpa Reid was a merchant marine, years before he even met Granny. He built one of those one time. She still has it.”
”So, how did he do it?”
”I'm not gonna tell you. It's a sacred secret.”
”Like magicians have?”
”Something like that.”
She glanced over at the grandfather clock in the corner. ”The news will be on in a couple of minutes,” she said, her tone far heavier than a moment before. ”Might as well turn it on.”
”You really want to?” he asked, reaching for the remote control, which was lying on the end table next to him. ”We said we were going to try to put it out of our minds as much as we could, and-”
”Well, I tried. And I couldn't. Could you?”
”No. I've been thinking about it all afternoon. How can you not? Something like that . . .”
He pointed the remote and punched a b.u.t.ton. A moment later, a small television, which was mounted on the wall above a bookcase to their right, came alive.
”Might as well turn it to her station, I guess,” he said, flipping through the channels. ”They'll have the best coverage.”
Savannah steeled herself for the images that were sure to be splashed across the screen any moment now. She tried to brace herself for the emotions that would, undoubtedly, come flooding back the instant she saw them-not that she had been particularly successful in burying them.
She could even feel a sort of phantom pain in her own wounds, which, although mostly healed, would forever be a part of her. Some things-the memories, the scars, the horror that had been driven, DNA-deep, into every cell of her body-would never go away completely.
”And now . . . the Eyewitness News at six o'clock,” a male voice was saying as majestic scenes of Southern California beauty flashed across the screen, along with the program's familiar logo and overly dramatic theme song, set to the rhythm of a clicking telegraph.
She felt Dirk's hand tighten around hers, and she blessed him for imparting that bit of comfort, and even for sensing that she needed it.
Even when she wanted to murder him, she couldn't help loving him to pieces.
She squeezed back. ”Here we go,” she said.
”Yeah. Let's see what they've got.”
”It is with great sadness,” said the handsome news anchor, with his perfect Ken doll hair and perfect, though slightly orange, tan, and his perfectly dazzling white smile, ”that we report the pa.s.sing of someone very close to us-a dear member of our Eyewitness News family.”
He paused, and the look of deep sadness that crossed his face touched Savannah's heart, causing her to put aside her shallow judgments about his appearance. Death has a way of putting such things into perspective, she thought.
”Our own Amelia Northrop lost her life today on Santa Tesla Island, where she and her husband, William Northrop, have made their home for the past five years.”
A picture of the beautiful blonde popped up on the screen, smiling her famous smile, her eyes alight with the intelligent curiosity that was her trademark.
Savannah couldn't help comparing the vision on the television with the one in her memory-the dead woman, with lifeless eyes and seaweed in her hair.
In all Savannah's years of dealing with life and death, she had never gotten over her amazement and bewilderment at the difference between the two states. It was a paradox of the darkest sort.
”Her body was discovered, floating facedown in the surf in one of Santa Tesla's picturesque coves,” the announcer continued. ”And while the investigation is in its preliminary stages, officials say her death appeared to have been the result of accidental drowning.”
” 'Accidental drowning'?” Savannah and Dirk shouted in unison as they bolted upright from their comfortable, reclining positions.
”What the h.e.l.l?” Dirk said. ”She drowned, my a.s.s! What about the bullet wounds that were . . . ?”
”Two, at least,” Savannah said, jumping off the chaise. ”The way she was bleeding, at least one of them got her right in the heart! I can't remember when I saw that much blood!” She paced back and forth in front of the television. ”Drowning? Drowning? How can they say that?”
She paused to listen as the anchor continued his speech. ”We go to Santa Tesla Island, where our on-the-scene reporter, Lori Austin, has more details. Lori, this is a sad, sad day for us all here at Eyewitness News. Tell us what you've discovered there.”
The scene switched to a locale Savannah knew all too well-the beach where Amelia Northrop had died. A pretty brunette in a bright red dress stood with her back to the ocean. Her grief showed on her picture-perfect face as she gave her report.
”Earlier this morning, shortly after Amelia was found here on the beach, I had the opportunity to talk to Santa Tesla's chief of police, Charlotte La Cross.”
Again the scene changed, and Lori was interviewing a woman with a face Savannah was beginning to loathe. Lori asked the chief, ”What can you tell us about what happened here this morning?”
With the expected degree of grave concern, La Cross responded, ”From what we understand at this time, this morning some tourists, who were enjoying our beautiful beaches, happened upon Ms. Northrop. She was lying, facedown, in the water right about there.”
She turned and pointed to an area of the beach that had been cordoned off with yellow tape. ”They pulled her from the water and tried to administer lifesaving cardiopulmonary resuscitation to her. Unfortunately, she was already gone.”
”What!?” Savannah whipped around to Dirk to see if he was hearing what she was. ”Administer CPR? Who administered CPR? What is all this c.r.a.p?”
”Who said she was gone?” Dirk shouted back. ”n.o.body told her the gal was gone! The victim was alive when you pulled her outta the water. She talked to you, for Pete's sake!”
”Yeah, but the chief there doesn't know that,” Savannah reminded him, ”because she didn't bother to question us about diddly-squat!”
”I got the strong impression she didn't want us to confuse her with any facts.”
”Exactly.”
”At this time,” the chief continued, ”it appears she was taking a morning swim and may have been caught in a riptide. We did issue a riptide warning earlier in the morning. Here on Santa Tesla Island, our guests' safety is always our foremost consideration. Unfortunately, not everyone heeds our advice in these matters. It's sad that a young woman had to lose her life in this terrible accident.”
” 'Accident'!” Dirk yelled at the TV. ”This is unbelievable! Savannah, what are we gonna do about this?”