“Well, yes, I came here to talk to him about something, but . . . I’ve changed my mind.”
“Want to leave him a message?” Savvy knew Siren Song did not have a working telephone, and cell phones were way out of Catherine’s experience. The woman ruled the place as if they all lived in a distant century.
“Ms. Dunbar . . . Detective . . . I think I would like to talk to you instead.”
“Well, okay, my desk is right down the hall.” She gestured with her arm. “If you want to—”
“Would it be possible to meet at some other location?” she asked, then turned to throw a stern glance to Johnson, who was unabashedly listening. Johnson, however, was hard to cow, and she just stared back until it was Savannah’s turn to frown at her. With a sniff, Johnson slammed her chair back and stalked down the hall toward the break room.
“Want to tell me what this is about?” Savvy asked.
“Could we meet at Siren Song?” Catherine said. “Maybe this afternoon? I . . . um . . . have some troubles. . . .”
“Some troubles,” Savannah repeated, wondering what fresh hell this was.
“I prefer not to talk here.”
Savannah inwardly assessed the idea. She’d always wanted to enter the locked gates of the lodge and get her own look at what was going on inside. Some of the locals thought Catherine was running a cult, and they’d dubbed it the Colony. Invitations inside were as rare as a black swan, and Catherine never invited men within Siren Song’s sacred walls at all. Lang hadn’t made it past the gates. Now, Savannah wanted to go, but she was about to start maternity leave, and she had no earthly idea what Catherine expected of her.
“When are you due?” Catherine asked.
“Three weeks? About.”
“Ah . . . would this afternoon be convenient?”
“Not really.” Savannah needed to talk to Lang about this, and maybe the sheriff, or something. “Tomorrow? Or maybe this evening?” she proposed, se
eing the shadow that crossed the older woman’s face.
“What time could you be there?” Catherine asked.
“Um . . . seven?” Savvy was already beginning to feel like she was overcommitting herself, but it was too late. Catherine had risen to her feet and was heading for the door, just as Johnson got within earshot.
“I’ll see you then, Detective,” Catherine said in that regal tone she unconsciously used. She glanced down at Savannah’s belly once more and said, “Boys can be a handful.”
Johnson returned to her desk as the door closed behind Catherine. “That woman’s got more secrets than a magician. Be careful when you go out there. That place is haunted.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Haunted,” Johnson repeated sternly.
“She assumed I was having a boy.”
“She knew.”
Savannah shook her head, then walked down the hall toward her office, making a stop at the restroom first to relieve her bladder. This endgame of pregnancy was no picnic. Many times over the past few months she’d asked herself why she’d volunteered to carry Kristina’s baby. She wasn’t really all that selfless by nature, and truthfully, Kristina could be one helluva pain in the ass. She was surprised her sister hadn’t contacted her in the past few hours. The past few weeks she’d called and texted and about driven Savannah crazy.
Texted.
Remembering the earlier bloop from her phone, Savannah pulled her cell from her pocket. Sure enough, there was a message from Kristina.
Dinner tonight? I need to see you.
Savannah made a sound of annoyance, grumbling as she entered the squad room and found her desk. She was glad to see she was alone, and she texted back.
Got a 7 pm appt. Will call when I’m done.
Her cell phone rang almost the instant Savannah set it down on her desk. This must be serious, she thought when she saw it was Kristina. When her sister moved from texts to actually phoning, it was a red-letter day.