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The answer popped into his sleep-fogged mind: Savannah.
He grabbed the phone from its charger and took the call. “Hello?”
“Savannah is in the hospital,” Jess said without preamble. “She asked me to call you while they take her in for an MRI.”
He bolted upright. “What? What happened?”
“Someone attacked her as she was leaving the history department warehouse. They hit her on the head, and she woke up around midnight.” Jess paused as though expecting a response, but he was too shocked and groggy to say anything. “She went in there by herself at night because the police called her again and she felt she needed to try to clear her name. You hadn’t responded to her email, so she decided she had to do something on her own.”
“Oh. I—I . . .” His voice trailed off as he fumbled for words. “Is she okay?”
“I hope so. The doctor just walked in. Get down here.” She ended the call.
He stared stupidly at the now-dark phone for several seconds, stunned. How serious was Savannah’s injury? He should have asked more questions.
Savannah had to be all right.
He shook himself and switched on the bedside light, illuminating the entirety of his tiny studio apartment. He pulled on some clothes, grabbed a couple cans of cold coffee from the fridge, and stumbled out the door. Savannah needed him, and he should have been there. Someone had actually attacked her—this was real. She was in danger, and he would be too.
He took a moment and decided to grab his Glock 22 and bullets from the safe. He had a concealed-carry permit, and he wanted to be prepared.
Ten minutes later, he was headed south on I-65 with Cody in the back seat. He collected his scattered thoughts as he drove. Savannah’s email had offered him a teaching job and a home for the Justice Chamber if he’d represent her. He hadn’t responded because he didn’t know what to say. He could easily represent her from Birmingham—Little & Associates had clients all over Alabama. A local PI could do the legwork, and Hez could drive down for court hearings and key witness interviews, and he could invite Savannah out for dinner whenever he was in town. Simple—and very different from what Savannah had in mind.
She wanted him to take a leave of absence from his job, move to Nova Cambridge or Pelican Harbor, and take a position as a professor and legal aid clinic director. He’d proposed basically the same thing when he visited her at TGU, of course, but a lot had happened since then. She’d turned him down, filed for divorce, implied she was interested in someone else, and said she wouldn’t even consider getting back together until this was all over.
Did he really want to try to start a new life at Tupelo Grove when there was a good chance he’d wind up living it on his own? Could he bear seeing her on campus every day with another man’s ring on her finger?
He’d started to write a response email thanking her for the offer and gently declining. He’d represent her, but he’d do it from Birmingham. But his conversation with Blake yesterday made him rethink that. It dawned on him that Savannah was implicitly saying she wanted him back in her life, even though his presence made her deeply uncomfortable. Was it because part of her still loved him despite the pain? Or was it because she was more afraid than he realized and she trusted him to protect her? Which he’d utterly failed to do.
A cold wave of guilt washed over him, settling in an icy lump in his stomach.
Hez pulled into Pelican Harbor just after dawn. He’d called ahead and found a pet boarding place that agreed to take his dog for a few hours, and it only took moments to drop Cody off. Hez turned into the hospital parking lot. Long shadows stretched across the mostly empty asphalt. He parked as close to the entrance as possible and hurried in. Once the front desk verified he was Savannah’s husband, a nurse guided him to her room. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the scent of disinfectant lingered in the tiled hallways.
Savannah was eating breakfast in bed when Hez walked in. To his relief, she seemed more or less okay. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail that revealed a lump near the back of her head. The early morning light showed smudges of yesterday’s makeup on her smooth tan skin and caught the gold flecks in her tired green eyes. She looked beautiful.
She noticed him in the doorway and put down her fork. “Oh! Thanks for coming so quickly—I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour or so. I must be a mess.”
He smiled. “I was just thinking how good you look. You’ve got first-thing-in-the-morning beauty. How are you doing?”
Color crept up her cheeks, but she held his gaze. “You’re sweet. I’m doing fine, except for a headache, some brain fog, and a nasty bump. The neurologist says that should all resolve soon. I’ve had a concussion, but there’s no bleeding on the brain. They’re going to release me this morning.”
“That’s great! Have you talked to the police?”
“Yes.” A shadow crossed her face. “I should have waited for you, shouldn’t I? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re a crime victim this time, not a potential suspect. I’m sure it was fine. What did they say?”
“There weren’t any witnesses, and whoever attacked me seemed to know the locations of all the cameras. All the police have is a partial image of the back of someone wearing a gray hoodie. The crime techs are out checking for fingerprints, but they didn’t seem optimistic.” She hesitated. “Do you think you can help?”
He shrugged. “I know a couple of good investigators down here, but I’m not sure how much they can add to what the police are doing.”
She bit her lip. “What about you? You worked the biggest investigations yourself when you were at the DA’s office, didn’t you?”
He had, which was a big factor behind his 98 percent conviction rate in murder cases. “Yes.”
“Did—did you get my email?”
He took a deep breath. “I did. I’m sorry I didn’t respond. I’ll talk to Jimmy and see if I can find a place down here. My lease is up next month anyway.”
