Mug Shot (25 page)

This bedroom rivaled any I had ever seen in a magazine. The bedding, walls, carpet, and furniture were all different shades of cream. It was all I could do to restrain myself from jumping into the middle of the marshmallowy, pillow-laden king bed, but I had a job to do. I started with opening the drawers of the bedside tables. There was a sleep apnea machine and an unopened box of expired condoms on one side (interesting). In the other table I found several fancy sleep masks and a ton of designer body lotions. I hit the chest of drawers next. It was full of men's clothing, so I moved on to the dresser. This one housed Savannah's stuff, but it was all normal and uninteresting—modest underwear, sweaters, and neatly folded summer shorts. The room had his and hers closets, so I headed to hers.

Savannah had a stunning wardrobe. She must have bought out an entire department store. As I was drooling over her designer shoe collection, my phone rang and nearly scared me to death. It was Stan. Uh-oh.

I whispered, “Is someone coming?”

“Carl is on his way up there.”

Shit! “Okay, thanks.”

I hung up and panicked for a moment, wondering where to hide. Thinking he probably wasn't coming up here in the middle of a party to rummage through Savannah's closet (like I was), I would be safe in my current spot. I quickly shut the closet door and killed the lights, pressing myself against the wall behind Savannah's full-length gown collection. I heard light footsteps on the carpet, a door closing, and then more footsteps. A moment later, I heard another door close. He must have either gone into his closet or the bathroom. Listening carefully, I heard another sound. Yep, he was in the bathroom, all right. I sighed. This could take a while.

With nothing to do but wait quietly, I texted Stan to let him know I didn't get caught, and that Carl was up here taking a crap so I'd be stuck for a while. Bored, I checked my email and browsed Facebook for several minutes. When I finally heard the toilet flush, I tensed. As long as Carl went straight back to the party, I was home free. I heard water running, then a door opening. After a few quiet footsteps, another door opened and closed, and then there was silence. I waited another minute, just in case, and then flipped the light back on and resumed my task. I opened drawer after drawer in Savannah's custom closet, but no dice. When I was almost ready to give it up, I spied several flowered hatboxes way at the back of the closet. Probably they only housed Savannah's stunning hat collection, but I decided to look anyway.

When I removed the lid of the first one, I nearly fell over. That was no hat. That was a big pink dildo. I did
not
expect this. Plus, there were a few smaller dildos underneath it. I shuddered and shut the box. The next box was full of vibrators of different shapes and sizes. I opened the third box, and it housed several sets of naughty, naughty undergarments—crotchless panties, see-through lace bras, leather bustiers, G-strings, you name it. The fourth box held some serious S&M latex gear. She even had a riding crop and one of those red ball–gag things. Oh, snap—Savannah was a freak.

Almost afraid of what I'd find in the last box, I very gingerly lifted the lid. Freaking jackpot. I pulled out a stack of photos of Bastidas and Savannah. Some were of the two of them cuddled up together, and some were frightening. They obviously knew how to use all of the gear I'd found. Yikes. I'd be lucky if I didn't need therapy after what I'd seen here, but I kept on digging. I found a flip phone, likely a pre-paid cell, with only one number in the call log—Bastidas's. The last gem I found was a contract between Savannah and Bastidas Enterprises for a landscaping job totaling ninety thousand dollars. It included an eight-foot-deep koi pond, a Japanese water garden, and a footbridge. Wow.

While all of this stuff was interesting, it wasn't exactly damning. Maybe she had a home office or other hiding place I could also poke around in. I was about ready to pack the box back up when I noticed something I missed on the bottom. It was a pair of cream-colored women's leather gloves in a ziplock bag. A
bloodstained
pair of gloves. Holy shit, I seriously had just found a bloody glove. What if the blood was Cecilia's? And what if Savannah had been wearing these gloves when she killed her? That would explain why there were no other fingerprints or DNA on the frothing thermometer/murder weapon besides Pete's.
And
it could be enough reasonable doubt to get Pete off the hook!

The thought of Pete being set free had me shaking with excitement, but suddenly the image of Savannah being put in prison filled my head. Now I really felt ill. Finding her treasure trove of sex stuff had been amusing, but the thought of my friend spending the rest of her life in jail horrified me. I didn't want her to go down for this. Maybe the blood was her own, or not even blood at all. This could have simply been yet another dead end.

As I stewed about what to do with my newfound discovery, a tiny sliver of anger crept into my heart. Whether or not she had something to do with Cecilia's death, Savannah had still been inside that tent at some point between the time Cecilia was killed and when I found her the next morning, and she had said nothing. She had stood by silently and watched as Pete went down for a crime he didn't commit, which made me absolutely livid. Just as bad, under the guise of being my friend and supposedly “helping” me, she had tried to throw some blame onto two other innocent men—well, innocent at least of murder. I didn't know what to think, but I wanted to know why she didn't come forward with anything she knew to help Pete.

With shaking hands, I laid all of the stuff out and snapped a picture. I quickly put the items back in the box as they had been and stacked the hatboxes neatly in their original places. Before I put my phone away, I also emailed the picture to myself, just in case something happened and I needed a backup copy. I was really getting the hang of this detective thing.

After making sure the bedroom was exactly as it had been when I came in, I made my way back downstairs. Stan spotted me when I entered the great room and hurried over.

“Well, did you find anything?” he asked.

My emotions were wreaking havoc on me, but I managed to say, “I think I may have found something useful. Now all I have to do is figure out how to get the police to come over here and discover it for themselves.”

Growing concerned, Stan said, “If you found evidence to support that crazy claim of yours, I think we both need to get out of here now.” He was a good lookout, but as for backup, he was not my first choice. Stan the Man ran when he sensed even possible danger. He lowered his voice. “Savannah could be dangerous.”

“She could be, but she's not any more dangerous than she was earlier this week when I was running around alone with her. Guilty or not, I want to say goodbye to her. After that, I'm headed to talk to the police.”

“Well, be careful. See you soon.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and made a beeline for the door.

I didn't only want to say goodbye to Savannah, I also didn't want Stan to know what I was planning to do. She was my friend, and I wanted to give her a chance to come clean. It was obvious she was hurting, and I was willing to forgive her and stand by her side if she told the police everything she knew to help Pete's case. If she refused, then I'd go to the police and tattle about what I found and let them sort it all out.

Spotting Carl at the buffet, I went over to him. “It was a lovely party, but I have to leave. I'm not feeling too well. Did you hear Pete's bail got revoked?”

He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Yes, and I'm so sorry to hear it. I'm sure things will work out, though. Keep your chin up.” Carl was so nice. I didn't want to see his life ruined by this whole mess.

“Where's Savannah? I want to see if she's doing better before I go.”

He shrugged. “She said she was going outside for some air. I don't know what's wrong with her today, but I hope she snaps out of it.”

“Me, too. Take care, Carl.”

I went through a back door, out to the patio. Savannah was much farther out in the yard, and I could just barely see her petite silhouette in the light of the full moon. She was pacing back and forth near the outline of what looked to be a backhoe and a big pile of dirt. I didn't want to have to do this, but something had to be done.

“Hey, Savannah,” I panted, having slogged across at least a hundred yards of wet grass to get to her.

She whirled around. Her makeup was streaked (finally), and her eyes were puffy from crying. She tried to smile, but failed miserably.

I hugged her, but quickly let her go and took a step back. “I'm sorry everything's in such a mess. I'm sure you're not in the mood to get into this right now, but I have to ask you something. It can't wait.”

“What?” she croaked.

“You know exactly how Cecilia was killed. Unless you were there, you wouldn't know that. Were you inside that tent, Savannah?”

Her eyes grew enormous, and she began breathing heavily. “What are you saying?”

I didn't want to say it. “I'm saying…that you're my friend, and I care about you. But…if you've done something you shouldn't have, you need to try to make it right. And I'll help you.”

Her face grew dark. “You don't care about me! You've only been hanging around with me because you were using me on your quest to save Pete.
Nobody
cares about me!” she wailed.

“Of course I care about you! I wouldn't be out here if I didn't. And Carl adores you. He's very worried about you.”

She laughed again, this time a little crazily. “Stupid Carl. He doesn't love
me
. He loves the idea of me. He loves me being his trophy wife.” Savannah began to pace around angrily. “And Alejandro…He said I was the only woman for him. But then he got
her
pregnant…She didn't love him like I did. It wasn't fair. He was supposed to be mine.”

As she continued her pacing, I happened to glance down into the giant hole at our feet. “Oh, holy shit!” I blurted out before clamping my hand over my mouth. My heart hit the ground. There was someone in that hole, facedown, and he wasn't moving. I whirled around to Savannah and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at me. “Who is that?” I cried. “What happened?”

She stared at me blankly.

I shook her. “Is he…dead?”

Again with the blank stare.

I went back to the hole and leaned over, calling, “Hey! Are you okay? Do you need help?”

The man didn't move. I squinted to look at him more closely, noticing that he was dressed in a suit and had longish dark hair. Bastidas.

Turning back to her, I exclaimed, “Savannah! Is that Bastidas?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she nodded.

I was at a loss. This was so unreal. “Why is he…Did you…?”

She wiped at her tears and looked away.

“Did he try to hurt you or something?”

“Yes!” she cried, burying her face in her hands.

Relieved, sort of, I went to her and put my arms around her. “That must have been scary. What did he do to you?”

“He…he told me…that we were through forever. That…that he was done messing around with married women.”

When she didn't offer any more information, I dropped my arms. “That's it?”

“Isn't that enough?”

“Enough to kill him? No!”

She looked at me as if I'd slapped her, and that was when I noticed there was something wrong with her eyes. They seemed…vacant. Once I finally realized what was going on, my anger melted away.

I continued gently, taking her hand. “Sweetie, you're sick. You need help. Come with me, and I promise you'll get exactly the care you need to make you better.”

Yanking her hand away, she said, “I'm just fine. In fact, I've never been better. My problems are in the ground, and now I can get on with my life.”

I turned around to look down at Bastidas, who still hadn't moved. I feared the worst. “But you can't simply cover this up—”

While I wasn't looking, Savannah charged me and shoved me forcefully from behind. Taken by surprise, I was unable to stand my ground, and I stumbled toward the giant hole. I struggled to get my footing, but it was too late. Suddenly, there was no ground under my feet, and I fell quite a ways down, splatting facedown into a pool of icy water and disgusting mud. I got the wind partially knocked out of me—I could still breathe, but it hurt. I must have been in Savannah's stupid eight-foot deep koi pond. It was like a giant grave—a perfect rectangle carved out of the earth, and it even already had a dead person in it. After wiping the mud from my face, I rolled over onto my back, groaning as several of my joints popped.

Savannah was grinning maniacally at me from above. “Yes, I
can
cover this up. Literally.”

I didn't know what she meant, having become a little dizzy and disoriented from my fall. “Savannah, why did you push me? I need help. I don't think I can get out of here on my own.”

“That's the point. You're staying down there. You know what I've done. You want to lock me up and throw away the key, and I'm not going to let that happen.”

“Please don't do this. It will only get you in more trouble.”

She smiled. “But I'm not in any trouble. Pete's in jail for Cecilia's murder. Once I fill in this hole, there's no evidence of anything else I've done. It's like none of it ever happened.”

Her sudden change in demeanor made me extremely nervous. “But you're going to get me out first…right?”

She said simply, “No. You know my secrets.”

I looked around for my purse so I could try to call for help, or at the very least record our exchange. Damn it! I spied it up by the top edge of the hole, completely out of reach. Even though terror had begun to grip me, I felt like I could still be able talk her out of it. I had an idea.

I got up carefully, pulling myself onto my knees. “You know, maybe your friend here is still alive. If he is, you wouldn't be charged with his murder. That's good, right?” Struggling to my feet, I promptly sank to my ankles in mud. It took all I had to yank my feet out of the wet earth and get myself over to where Bastidas lay at the other side of the hole, my shoes left somewhere in the sea of mud. Hoping Bastidas had a little life left in him, I grabbed his arm and rolled him onto his back.

His dead eyes stared at me, and I had to choke back a scream. So much for hoping he was still alive. I noticed that his face was a mess of cuts and bruises. “Did you beat him up, too?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, it was Kent, the idiot. This whole thing is his fault. Abigail told him last night that she was leaving him for Alejandro. This afternoon, he decided to use Alejandro for boxing practice. Between getting the snot beat out of him and some tell-all news article he kept going on about, Alejandro up and decided to swear off married women.” She picked up a section of metal pipe from the ground. “All I did was hit him in the head with this.”

“Look,” I said, starting to shiver both from fear and from the frigid mud plastered to me. “Don't say anything else. Get me out of this hole, and I swear, I will help you through this.”

“Right, by making sure I'm put in jail or someplace even worse, like the funny farm.”

“Well, then how about you get me out of here, and I'll give you a head start? You disappear to some deserted island, and the cops will never find you. Is that better?”

She considered my offer for a brief moment. “Nope. I'm not giving up my life. You are.”

“What?” I cried.

She had already taken off, heading for the backhoe. I worried for a moment, but then reasoned that there was no way in hell prissy Southern belle Savannah Worthington knew how to use a backhoe. I didn't have a clue how to work one, so I was pretty sure she didn't, either. I flinched as I heard the backhoe start up. It would seem that she at least knew how to turn it on, unfortunately.

“Hey,” I yelled over the loud engine. “What are you doing?”

She leaned out of the cab and yelled back, “Burying you. And my secrets!”

“You can't work that thing! There's no way you can—”

I stopped abruptly as the backhoe started moving my way, pushing dirt from the huge pile into the hole I was in. Although trying with all my might to get a handhold on the steep wall and climb up, I couldn't manage to do anything but slide back down into the mud. Between my broken finger and the soft, crumbling walls, I couldn't get a grip.

The first load of mud thankfully landed on the other side of the hole from where I was standing, but Savannah had realized that and was pushing the next load straight at me. I pressed myself against the wall, feeling mud and clumps of dirt rain down on my back, engulfing my legs to the knee. Bastidas's body was all but buried, with only his shoulder still sticking up out of the ground. I tried desperately to free myself and get on top of the mud she had just dumped, but it was even mushier than the floor of the pond, and I sank faster and deeper. A couple more loads and I would be buried alive, I realized.

Then I started to panic. Who even knew I was out here? Stan thought I was leaving. Carl didn't know where Savannah was other than “outside,” and since they had acres of land, that didn't narrow it down. The party was in full swing, with holiday merrymaking and loud Christmas music. We were far enough away from the house that there was no way anyone could even hear the noise of the backhoe, let alone my cries for help, so I was totally screwed. I had to talk my way out of this.

“Savannah!” I yelled. “Wait! Please!”

She popped her head out of the cab, seeming to be back to her normal, chipper self. Now she was really scaring me. “What's up, girl?”

Seriously? Did she think we were going to have a little girl talk or what? I went with it. “Could you turn that thing off for a minute?”

Waving her hand dismissively, she replied, “Nope, sorry. I have a job to do. You doing okay down there?”

“Um, no, not really. I need help. Can you help me?”

“Not right now. I've got to get this job done.” She waved cheerily and pushed another load of dirt in on top of me. Savannah had snapped. She was batshit crazy.

With dirt now up to my waist, I started frantically screaming, “HELP! Someone help me! Help! Can anyone hear me?”

Savannah yelled exasperatedly, “There's no one out here, Juliet. Save your breath. Besides, I can't concentrate with you yelling.”

“Wait,” I pleaded, trying to think of something to say to make her stop filling in the hole. “Hey, I want to know—how do you know how to use a backhoe?”

She smiled proudly. “You know I wasn't always a society gal. I learned how to operate heavy equipment on the farm. Plus, after Alejandro and I did the nasty in this thing one time, he let me drive it.”

Great. Now the last image I would ever have in my mind would be of Savannah and Bastidas getting it on in that backhoe. She didn't give me time to answer, pushing in even more dirt, which had now crept up to my shoulders. This was it. One more load, and it was the end.

“Juliet! Juliet, are you out here?” I heard Ryder yell from not too far away.

“YES!” I screeched. “Ryder! I'm down in the hole! Help me!”

After a few moments, I saw Ryder appear at the top of the hole with his gun drawn, leveled at Savannah, his phone in his other hand. He said something into the phone and flicked his eyes at me. I saw his jaw clench.

He put the phone in his pocket and yelled to Savannah, “Savannah, turn that thing off, and step out of the cab.”

Still firmly in the throes of her psychotic break, she replied, “I can't. I'm not done with the job.”

He replied evenly, “I have a gun pointed at you.
I will shoot you
with it if you make another move with that backhoe.”

“Oh, you wouldn't shoot little old me.” She laughed.

Savannah gunned the backhoe, pushing the rest of the mud and dirt in on top of me, covering well over my head. Terrified, I gasped for breath but instead got a mouthful of nasty mud. Through the oppressive silence of the dirt and mud that encased me, I thought I heard a muffled gunshot. The weight of the earth on top of me was putting pressure on my body, and I was dangerously close to passing out. My lungs began to strain as they became more and more deprived of air. I clung to the hope that Ryder would surely pull me out before it was too late.

I was fighting to stay conscious when I heard the faint sound of voices directly above me. I felt movement in the earth on top of me, and the pressure on my head and shoulders seemed to lessen a bit.

Through my daze, I could finally hear Ryder's voice, and he sounded panicked. “Juliet! Juliet! We're digging you out. Just hold on, sweetheart.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, too late realizing that only served to get dirt up my nose. There was no way I could answer him, but it was enough to know he was coming to my rescue.

I felt a hand hit my head, and heard Ryder cry, “I found her. Dig!”

Several hands started pawing at me, which would normally have freaked me out, but I knew these hands were only digging away at the dirt to save me. I felt air hit my face and a hand gently brush over my eyes, nose, and mouth. After taking a much-needed breath of clean air, I gingerly opened my eyes. The first face I saw was Ryder's.