Page 60 of Colton First Responder (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

Well, she knew she didn’t look like the Savannah they might be looking for. She made sure she used the relaxed posture she’d been practicing. Her hair was different. Her face, too.

She wore those glasses.

Still, she had an urge to run. To call out to Grayson—assuming he was within hearing distance. But what could he do anyway?

Instead, she kept walking. She glanced curiously in the direction of the police car. Normal people would do that, after all. The officer on the passenger side was looking in her direction, but the car continued on.

It didn’t stop. Surely, everything was fine.

She’d fooled them!

Maybe. She couldn’t allow herself to get too excited, too confident. They could just have been headed to get more backup, then come after her.

Savannah remembered only too well what it felt like to be taken into police custody. To be swept off to jail. To be questioned and—

She forced herself to put as many of those thoughts aside as she could. She walked at a normal pace, glancing into a clothing store as she passed it, then a furniture store—like any normal pedestrian.

No cop car drove by again. No one showed up to confront her.

Maybe this had worked out. She felt jubilant—but quickly tamped that down again.

She soon made it to the parking lot, where she took the elevator back up to the floor where Grayson had parked. No one was around, so she called him.

He answered at once. “I’m already in the car and don’t see anyone around. Come on over and get in.”

Which she did, opening the unlocked door, putting her package on the floor, and again lying down on the back seat.

“How did it go?” Grayson asked as he started driving.

“Fine, though I was worried when the police car drove by. Did you see it?”

“I did, but I figured your disguise, including your posture, wouldn’t let them recognize you. You’re quite an actress.”

“Me? Not exactly the career I’d choose if I decided to really work for a living.” Which actually sounded good now. She could make more choices for herself that way—assuming she was ever exonerated of these murders.

Which was definitely what she intended.

And so, she told Grayson, “Since I don’t resemble myself and I’m such a great actress, here’s where I want to go right now.”

She gave him Zane’s address, which he apparently already knew.

“It’s a big house in a neighborhood of big houses but not many people. This car looks enough like a delivery vehicle that I doubt any neighbors will pay attention if you pull onto the street a little distance away and we get out there. I’ll pretend to be a new cleaning lady if anyone pays attention to us, and you can bring a bag or something to deliver. The house is on a middle lot and we can get through the gate and inside in a way I know. Zane isn’t that friendly with anyone on the street anyway.”

“Okay, Chloe,” Grayson said. “I understand this is important to you, and why. I just hope we find what you’re looking for.”

“Me, too,” Savannah-Chloe responded.

And she was very glad he had said “we.”

* * *

Grayson had agreed to do as Savannah wished, despite a whole lot of reservations. But he understood why she wanted it.

And it truly did make sense, if they could actually find something to prove the guilt of Schuyler Wells—or even Zane Oliver himself. Even though Savannah’s access to the property as a resident of the guest house was now most likely limited since she was a fugitive.

He only wished he could somehow do this on his own, keep her fully out of danger as he cleared her name. But that couldn’t happen. She was the one who knew the house and where Zane might have hidden anything that might absolve her or indicate that Zane had faked his own death.

But if things went wrong...

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