Page 20 of Colton First Responder (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

“I’ll go get some,” she said.

“No, show me where you want these and we’ll get the rest together.” He didn’t want her alone out there, even while he was around.

But his protective instinct was controlling him, and he needed to use it for her as long as they were together.

“Okay,” she said, fortunately not disputing him, although she did give him a quizzical look. And after he’d put the bags on the kitchen counter where she indicated, she said, “Is everything okay outside?”

“As far as I know,” he said, realizing that probably didn’t give her a lot of reassurance.

Even so, she was with him on their next couple of trips outside to bring in the rest. “Wow,” she said as they both put down the bags they’d been carrying. “Why didn’t you get some more?”

Of course she was attempting a touch of humor. He responded in kind. “Oh, I figured this was enough to hold you through tomorrow morning. I can bring more then.”

“That’s good,” she said. Then she grew more serious. “I’d really like to have some sense of how long I’ll need to stay here—and what I can do to figure out what happened to Zane. As fast as possible, of course.”

“Of course,” he acknowledged. “I don’t know what to tell you, other than we need to discuss more of your sense of what happened, and its timing. Then maybe we’ll come up with some ideas.”

“Not just maybe,” she contradicted. “We have to figure it out. Or at least I do.”

“We,” he said again. “I intend to help.”

He went back outside again, this time to retrieve the phone. Savannah was in the kitchen area, standing on tiptoes in her black sneakers, placing packages of paper towels, paper plates, napkins and more into a floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinet.

“As soon as you’re done there, I have something else to show you.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

She seemed to speed up the pace of stuffing the still-sealed packages onto the shelves, stretching to thrust some into the areas above her, then kneeling to also use the lower ledges. He enjoyed watching her lithe form as she maneuvered. Not a good idea, he told himself, but observed her anyway.

Finishing in about two minutes, she strode over to him. “I can put the food in another cabinet and in the fridge soon. Even knowing nothing will get chilled there, it’ll make a good storage area. But first—what else do you have to show me? I’ll warn you, though. I have an idea what it is.”

“Of course you do.” He pulled the phone from his pocket. “Let’s go to our favorite place here and I’ll turn it on, then we’ll make sure you know how to use it.”

In moments, she sat at her usual spot watching him—and, amusingly, batting her eyelashes. She seemed to have a natural beauty that was entirely her own.

“What’s taking you so long?” she asked.

He pulled out his chair and sat down beside her. “Here we are.”

The phone resembled major manufacturers’ equipment—black and rectangular, with a screen in front. He also pulled the new battery-operated charger from his pocket.

“Okay, here’s how you turn it on. Nothing crazy or unique.” He pushed a button along the narrow side of the phone. “I assume that doesn’t look unusual, though I don’t know what kind of phone you had.”

“Not much different from that one,” Savannah confirmed.

She held out her hand, and he placed the phone in her palm as the screen came to life. The wallpaper on that screen showed a blue sky with white cumulus clouds. When he swiped at the screen, a bunch of apps suddenly appeared. One was the play store from which more apps could be downloaded. Another was a camera. Then there were the standard ones for making calls on the phone, getting to the internet, and sending and receiving text messages. And though Grayson didn’t know what internet connection there was at the cabin, there must have been something because everything appeared to work.

“Looks nice and familiar,” she said again. “Can I get its phone number from you?”

“Of course.” He pulled his own phone from his pocket and checked his list of contacts. He had added Savannah’s new number at the tech store where he’d bought it.

Of course he didn’t use her name in his contacts list. Not that he anticipated anyone would be checking his phone for it, but no sense taking any chances.

No, she was listed there under the name of a girl he’d been buddies with in college, Charlene Farmer. Not a girlfriend, but a girl who was a friend. That number had an area code for Arizona, but there wasn’t anything else that should reveal its owner’s location any more than her name.

After he explained all that to Savannah, she said, “Please give me a call. That way, I can save your number. I assume it’s okay to use your real name as my contact.”

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