Heart of the Night by Barbara Delinsky

from one of her own witnesses. After that, she attended the weekly meeting of the criminal division. Technically, she was second in command in the division, but the first in command had been out of work for a month recovering from open-heart surgery, and it looked like it would be a while longer before he returned. Savannah had emerged quite naturally over the last year as the one others went to for advice, and she had easily assumed the responsibility of conducting division meetings.
    By nine o’clock that evening, she was headed back to the Vandermeers. She felt guilty for not waiting with Will and Susan, but she had to keep up with her work unless she wanted a complete nervous breakdown. She couldn’t spend the night at Will’s as she had asked Susan to do, and she felt even more guilty about that. But she just couldn’t. She knew herself. The tension was building inside. She needed a break.
    Will was where she had left him, at his post by the kitchen phone. He had a blank piece of paper and a pencil within reach, ready to take down any information the kidnappers might transmit. He was alternately holding the pencil and setting it down, folding a corner of the paper and flattening it, turning to look at the clock and facing the paper again.
    Wearing the same chic yellow jogging suit that she had arrived in, Susan was sitting in one of the eight captain’s chairs that encircled the large round kitchen table. She was methodically shifting the old-fashioned glass in her hand by quarter turns on the wood surface. She looked up once, when Savannah entered the room, then looked back at her glass. But that single brief glance had been defiant. Savannah knew not to mention the drink.
    Sam and Hank were sitting at the table with drinks of their own. Rather than old-fashioned glasses filled with liquor, though, they held mugs of coffee. She guessed they were on their fourth or fifth cups. She was a coffee drinker herself, but not to excess. She recognized a caffeine shake when it was starting and knew when to stop. Sammy and Hank never stopped, but then, they never shook. They could drink coffee all night, while they took turns sleeping. And they would sleep soundly. The caffeine didn’t faze them. She assumed it had something to do with the sturdiness of the male physique; strength was one of the few concessions she was prepared to make to the male of the species. It could make them exciting, or terrifying.
    â€œWhat are they doing with her?” Will cried, his eyes tired now but no less alert. “Why haven’t they called?”
    Taking a seat between him and Hank, Savannah laced her hands tightly together. “They’re waiting for the right time.”
    â€œDo you think she’s okay?”
    â€œI have to think that.”
    â€œWill they feed her? Make sure she’s warm enough?”
    â€œShe’ll eat when they eat and be as warm as they are. I’m sure they have no intention of either starving or freezing.” She paused. “What happened with the insurance company?”
    â€œOne man came and looked around,” Will answered.
    Hank offered a little more. “We talked with him. He seemed satisfied.”
    â€œIs he getting the money together?”
    Will grew agitated. “Sure he is, but he doesn’t trust us to have it here. He wants to wait until we’ve gotten the call and arranged the payoff. Then he’ll get the money over.” He swore between his teeth. “You’d think we were trying to gyp him out of something. What in the hell have I been paying premiums for if not situations like this?”
    â€œHe has to be cautious,” Savannah reasoned. “Three million dollars is a lot of money. It’s his job to guard it well. We can’t really blame him for that.” She inhaled. “As long as he can get his hands on that money when we need it.” Her gaze grew more concentrated. “Will, is anything else of