Page 131 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

“We have to go in,” Adam ordered. He was antsy, ready to climb out of his skull and this dull-headed cop was holding a gun on him. “Now! Don’t you get it! There’s a killer on the loose and—”

“Just turn around, sir, and lean against the car and no one will git hurta.” A pair of handcuffs dangled from the cop’s free hand.

“Listen. You have to understand.” Adam was frantic. Afraid for Caitlyn’s life. “There’s a woman in danger here. Serious danger. From herself or someone else. Caitlyn Bandeaux. She’s the widow of Josh Bandeaux, who was killed.”

“I know who he is. Now, turn around.”

“You have to believe me! We don’t have any time to waste!”

“Do it!” the cop ordered, and when Adam considered lunging for the gun, he warned, “Don’t even think about it.”

“But we have to help her. We have to. It might save her life!”

The cop hesitated just a fraction. His scowl deepened. He’d heard it all a thousand times probably.

“Look, we’ve got to find her. Soon. Before it’s too late. Let me go inside and—”

“No way.”

“But—”

“Get over it! Turn around!”

Adam wasn’t about to give up. “Call Detective Reed at the Savannah Police Department. Homicide. Tell him that Caitlyn Bandeaux’s a split personality, that she’s Kelly Montgomery.”

“You’re talking nonsense,” the cop growled, his nostrils flaring. “No more lip.”

“No! I’m her psychologist and she’s here—look, her car is there. Run her plates. It’s Caitlyn Bandeaux.”

The cop glanced at the white Lexus and Adam saw him hesitate again. “Listen! There’s not much time! Call Reed. Do it now!”

“First you put your hands on the hood.”

“Then you’ll call him.”

“Then I’ll think about it.”

“Shit.” Adam wanted to punch the guy in his bad-ass cop face, but knew it would only make the situation worse. Reluctantly he turned, did as he was asked and let the cop wrench his hands behind his back and cuff him. “I’m serious. Put in the call.”

“After you’re in the cage.”

“There’s no time—”

“Get the fuck inside!” The bruiser of a cop yanked the door open, put his hand over Adam’s head and nearly shoved him into the back of the cruiser. Adam fell against a backseat that smelled suspiciously of urine and Lysol, then struggled to a sitting position to glare through the window. The cop slammed the door shut, then placed a call on his cell and started talking while Adam mentally climbed the walls of the meshed-in backseat. Seconds were ticking by. Precious minutes that might mea

n life or death for Caitlyn. Oh, God, what could he do? He should never have allowed himself to be locked in the car.

“Hey!” He started kicking the windows. “We’ve got to get inside. Now! She’s here!”

“Shut up!” the cop growled, but he’d pulled his side arm. Acted as if he was going inside. Alone. Oh, Christ, the dumb shit didn’t know what he was going to face.

Frantic, Adam kept kicking. He had to get out. He had to help.

In his mind’s eye he saw Caitlyn’s face—Kelly’s face. And he imagined it streaked with blood, her lips pale, her eyes staring glazed and dead upward. No! No! NO! He beat against the glass wildly and heard sirens cutting through the night. Twisting, he stared out the back window and spotted two cop cars racing down the long drive, their headlights splashing on the trees and old siding of the aging manor, their overhead lights flashing blue and yellow.

The Cavalry. Or the enemy? Adam didn’t know which.

Tires crunched to a stop and dust rose in front of the headlights.

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