Revenge is Sweet (A Samantha Church Mystery) by Betta Ferrendelli Page A

daughter, with me, here in Denver, where she belongs. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
    “Well, you’ve yet to prove that to me, Samant ha. Like I said, I’ve got to go; I’ve got things to do before my granddaughter gets home from school. I’ll let you know.”
    “When, Esther?”
    “Soon.”
    Sam heard a loud click in her ear. She sat in the driver’s seat staring vacantly out the window. The trees without their leaves allowed her to see an endless blue sky stretch out before her. The orb of the sun still shone brightly, warming the car, but her mood had soured.
    Still holding the phone to her ear as if it had been frozen there, she felt as cold as winter should be and as empty as the sky was vast.

Twelve
     
    By the time Sam returned to the office, her spirits felt lighter, helped by a good cry in the car warmed by the sun. She walked to her desk, wanting to believe that there was a chance, however small, that Esther would let April come home soon for a long weekend.
    Sam did not allow herself to get too excited. She did not want to get her hopes up and have them dashed if Esther said no. She wanted to call Nona and Howard and tell them that April might be coming, but decided to wait until she knew for certain. She could never second guess where Esther Church was concerned.
    Sam allowed herself to imagine driving to Denver International Airport, giddy with the excitement of seeing her daughter. It was only a month since April had gone to stay (Sam refused to use the word ‘live’) with her Grandmother, but it was the first that Sam had been separated from her daughter for so long. Sam wanted to imagine April looking for her in the terminal, spotting her from a distance and breaking into a run to fall into her arms. That April would be grinning from ear to ear as Sam wrapped her arms around her. She imagined feeling April’s tender young bones in her arms and how she would bury her face in her daughter’s hair and simply soak up the smell of her.
    Sam was smiling with hopeful thoughts when she saw her e-mail icon flashing in the upper right on her computer screen. She removed her coat and put her purse in the drawer. She could not help thinking—even hoping—that it would be another message from Wilson’s kidnappers. Fear tickled the back of her throat.
    She held her breath and doubled clicked on the icon.
    There it was. Waiting for her, another e-mail message. The subject line contained a single word in bright blue letters, staring at her, taunting her. She swallowed, and mumbled “oh God,” under her breath.
    Dead
     
    She stared at the word and tried not to think of the implications. Of what it could mean for Wilson.
    Or her.
    Sam glanced around the newsroom hoping no one was watching. The room was empty, save for the photographer. He paid her no attention, fully bent over his laptop, examining digital images from his latest photo shoot. She double-clicked on the message.
     
    Dead
     
    The first line said again. She closed her eyes, not wanting to read anymore, but forced herself to continue. The next and the only other text in the e-mail followed.
     
    it’s only a matter of time …
     
    Sam felt her heart jump start in her chest. Her fearful thoughts had little time to develop. Anne was buzzing her from the reception desk.
    “Sam? You there?”
    Sam snatched up the receiver, still keeping her eyes on the e-mail. “Yes, Anne. What’s up?”
    “There are a couple of police officers up here to see you.”
    “Me?” Her breath stopped in her throat and she looked toward Nick’s office.
    “That bastard better not have said anything,” she mumbled under her breath.
    “Sam? You comin’ up?”
    “Sure,” Sam said into the phone, “I’ll be right there.”
    Sam gingerly cradled the phone, but stayed at her desk and began to fiddle nervously with a ballpoint pen she held in her hand.
    Thinking.
    Nick couldn’t be that stupid ... surely he wouldn’t have called the police yet,