Page 27 of Colton First Responder (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

He laughed. “What degree? I dumped it all when I decided to become a first responder. I left the university for a smaller school where I could learn what I needed to get my emergency medical technician credentials, and I learned more than enough to get my official certification, and there I was.”

Savannah’s wine glass was nearly empty, and so was Grayson’s. He picked up the bottle from the table and poured them each a little more.

“Thanks,” Savannah said. She’d furrowed her brow, which didn’t detract in the least from how pretty she was. “But why did you want to become an EMT? A first responder?”

“I just did.” He had no desire to talk any more about it. “And you? Did you get a college degree?” From what he knew about Savannah, she didn’t have an official job, although her charitable efforts were admirable.

“Yes, I had the fun of moving to Los Angeles for a few years to major in English at UCLA. I loved to read then, and still do, so that worked out well.”

He wanted to ask her how she used her degree now, if she did, without a job. But before he decided how to phrase it, she said, “And in case you’re wondering, I never really got a job where I could use my degree, but I do go to the elementary schools in and around Mustang Valley a lot to work with kids who are reading challenged. It’s really a kick to see them improve and know I at least had a little to do with it.”

So the wealthy socialite who was Savannah might not earn money to cover her own expenses now, but she certainly earned kudos by helping others.

“That sounds great.” And it did, to Grayson. This woman had made good use of her time and family’s money—and her ex’s—to help other people.

Not a first responder, but definitely someone who gave a damn and attempted to do something about it.

To prevent her from asking more about him and why he was who he was, he decided to press her some more and get her to describe some of the kids she’d helped with their reading. Then he urged her to talk more about her favorite charities that she helped now, like the hospital children’s ward.

She apparently liked kids. Maybe she’d intended to have some with Zane. Well, that clearly wasn’t going to happen now, nor would it even if Zane wasn’t ostensibly dead, since they’d already divorced. That could have been a motive for her to kill him, Grayson supposed, or the district attorney might approach it that way: anger that he hadn’t given her kids.

Nah, too ridiculous.

Grayson didn’t know what the terms of the divorce settlement were. Had it been fair, or had Zane’s lawyers cut her out of everything?

He had a thought then. “Any idea what your lawyer might be thinking now that you’ve disappeared?”

Like was he—or she—now upset because Savannah wasn’t currently racking up any fees? Or was he looking bad because his client had flown? Grayson assumed that, married or not, the socialite in front of him had money of her own to pay her counsel before and after her arrest.

“Who? Ian? I don’t know. He’d warned me that the evidence against me looked grim, but he’d seemed to be completely on my side, eager to at least try to get me off.”

“But he didn’t think you were innocent?” Grayson shook his head, eyeing the bottle of wine again but deciding he’d had enough for now.

“I thought he did, although he kept enumerating all the evidence that could keep me from even having any bail set for me, let alone getting off at trial. He reassured me a lot, though, that he would do everything in his power to get me cleared.”

Yeah, like spend a lot of time—and her money—to try to prove her innocent. Well, Grayson didn’t know any attorneys named Ian, but he did know others, and even the good ones appeared to be money-grubbing. “What’s his name?” he asked. “Ian what?”

“Ian Wright,” Savannah said, “but please don’t contact him.” She sounded alarmed. “He’s an officer of the court, like all lawyers, he told me, which means he might have to turn me in if he found out where I was. He asked me if I’d killed Zane, said it was okay for me to admit it to him. Because of attorney-client privilege, he wouldn’t reveal it to anyone else. But of course I didn’t admit anything, since I’m innocent. I trust him. I like him as a lawyer. But I don’t want anyone, even him, to know where I am. Not now, at least. Or that you’ve seen me.”

Grayson didn’t like the sound of that. Not that he’d tell that Ian Wright anything. But even though Savannah trusted him, Grayson trusted no one on her behalf. Not now. Not until he’d learned a lot more about her situation.

“Got it,” he said. “With your phone now, you can contact him if you decide to and not give your location away”

Savannah nodded and smiled at him, her expression more relaxed—and trusting. Damn. She shouldn’t trust anyone right now, even him.

Still... Evening was approaching now. He needed to leave, get back to the office for a while before going home.

“Sorry,” he told Savannah, drinking his last few drops of wine. “I’d better get on my way.”

He was about to tell her he’d be back again soon, though he didn’t think it would be tomorrow. He’d brought her enough sustenance for a few days, anyway. And wine.

“I understand,” she said, nodding slightly. If he read her expression correctly, she probably understood but felt bad about his leaving. “That’s fine. I appreciate our discussions today and think I might have an idea of what to do next, but I want to think about it more, so being here on my own will be fine. Only—”

“Only what?” he asked when she hesitated.

“I don’t suppose you have a pen and paper in your car that you could give me so I can make some notes, do you?”

He laughed. He’d expected something a lot more significant than that, given the change in her expression to uncertainty, maybe fear—or worse.

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