Savannah Sleuth by Alan Chaput

Author:Alan Chaput
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub

Chapter 18

Patricia had been awake since two a.m. with an active mind flooded with unanswered questions.

Every time she felt like she was getting used to the fact her mother was gone, she’d see or hear something that made her think of picking up the phone to call her mother, only for it all to come crashing back.

Now at nine a.m., she slumped at the kitchen table with her third cup of coffee and the unread newspaper. The exuberant newscasters on the countertop television provided background noise that failed to distract her from her preoccupation with those unanswered questions.

When her phone pealed Meredith’s ringtone, Patricia perked up. Perhaps Meredith had good news. However, not wanting to risk being further disappointed, she braced for bad news and picked up her phone.

“I found Henrietta’s money,” Meredith said. “What the—”

An abrupt crash sounded from the phone, followed by a sharp pop. Then hollow silence.

An electrifying bolt zapped Patricia. She shuddered. “Meredith, Meredith?”

Silence.

“Are you okay?” Patricia squeezed the phone to her ear and paced through excruciating silence. Then car sounds briefly. An accident? Adrenaline spiked. Her heart raced. “Meredith, are you there?”

Faint groaning. Muffled. Far away.

Patricia stopped. “Meredith. Meredith, talk to me! What’s going on?”

“Pa ... Patricia. It’s— Oh my God, no!”

A deafening boom exploded from the phone, blasting Patricia’s inner ear. She gasped and dropped into a crouch. A cold sweat beaded her forehead as her mind concluded the explosion had sounded like a gunshot. “Oh God, no. No! Meredith. Talk to me. Say something.” Patricia wheezed as panic grabbed her throat. “Anything.”

Solitary, ear-droning nothingness.

Meredith had been there, had just spoken. Then what sounded like a gunshot, explosively close to the phone. What had happened? Fear bubbled. Gotta call the police. Now. Her ear ringing, she lunged for the house phone and punched 911 then moved the handset to her good ear.

“911. How may I help you?” a gravely male voice asked.

“My friend just called. I think she was in her car. And then it sounded like there was a collision, an accident. She might be hurt.”

“Do you know where she was?”

“No. But then she tried to talk to me and it sounded like there was a gunshot very near the phone. Oh my God, I think Meredith has been shot. Maybe killed. You’ve got to do something.”

Pressing her bad ear failed to ease the persistent pain. She looked at her fingers as if she expected blood, but she saw none.

“What is your friend’s full name and cell phone—”

“She has OnStar, my friend has OnStar.”

“What’s her name?”

“Meredith Stanwick.”

“Did she tell you anything about the accident?”

Patricia took a long, slow breath. “No. We had just started talking. There was a crash, then a pop. Then some moaning followed by an ear-splitting boom. Please help her.”

“I have OnStar on the line. They have her location. We’re dispatching someone to investigate.”

“Where is she?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t provide details, but I need your contact information for possible follow-up.”

Patricia answered all the questions then hung up. Her mind whirled. Weak-kneed, she sat down.

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