Page 137 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

“Get the EMTs,” a man shouted. It was a familiar voice. Reed. That was it. Detective Pierce Reed.

“They’re on their way,” a woman said, but Caitlyn couldn’t see her and the buzz in her head was louder than the voices, drowning out the noise.

“We need them now! Jesus Christ, they’re all gonna bleed to death!”

The voices were far away, from a distance and she was fading away. Images floated behind her eyes, a kaleidoscope of pictures. Kelly laughing as a child, teasing her and running in the sun then the explosion, a burst of fire and light that lit up the night . . . Griffin sharing secrets in the woods . . . Nana with her cold eyes and colder touch . . . Charles lying bleeding in the forest, no longer able to come into the room at night and Jamie, sweet, sweet Jamie giggling as they built a sand castle on the beach one summer . . . then there was Adam. Handsome. Strong. Patient, dark hair and enigmatic smile . . . knowing eyes and firm lips . . . Her throat closed and over the far-off din of shoes scraping and the remote voices of people yelling, she imagined what she would say to him if only given the chance.

Oh, please . . . Adam . . . forgive me for not being stronger.

Thirty-Four

Adam stalked from one end of the hospital’s waiting room to the other. He was alone, wearing a path in the blue carpet that stretched between a dying potted palm and a plate-glass window overlooking the parking lot.

It had been twelve hours since the shooting, four of which Caitlyn had been in surgery to remove the bullet that had torn through her spleen in her struggle with Amanda. Caitlyn had survived; Amanda had not. Which was just as well, Adam thought angrily. Amanda Montgomery had killed and tortured too many as it was.

Hannah was hanging on by a thread, transfusions not yet making enough difference to ensure her life. He sent up a quick prayer for her and Caitlyn as well.

Caitlyn worried him. Already mentally frail, how would she react when she came face-to-face with the fact that she’d killed her sister, the very sister who had murdered most of her family, including Caitlyn’s daughter? How would she accept the news that she suffered from DID and possibly schizophrenia, that she was unique to the world of psychology by taking on her sister’s personality? He rubbed his jaw and felt a day’s worth of whiskers.

Guilt had been with him for hours. Gnawing at his brain. Tearing at his soul. He should have told her the truth from the get-go, should have risked telling the police about Rebecca. Maybe things would have been better. Maybe lives would have been saved. Maybe some of the carnage could have been avoided. Maybe Caitlyn would never have had to suffer.

Mother of God, he’d blown it. If only—

“Doctor Hunt?” A nurse was approaching him.

His head snapped up. “Yes.”

“Mrs. Bandeaux’s awake and the police are through interviewing her. She’s asking for you.”

“Let’s go.” Adam felt immense relief.

The nurse didn’t move, but stared at him with knowing eyes. “Just so that you understand it’s only for a few minutes. The doctor wants her to rest.”

“No problem.”

The nurse cracked a smile. “She’s in three-oh-seven. The elevators are just down the hall, around the corner.”

“Thanks.” He half jogged to the bank of elevators, passing an aide pushing a wheelchair. Now that he was finally allowed to see Caitlyn, he couldn’t put it off a second later. He needed to see that she’d survived the ordeal. That she was really Caitlyn, that she understood about her condition, that . . . oh, hell, so many things.

He’d been such a shortsighted fool. Rather than wait for an elevator car, he threw himself into the stairwell and took the stairs to the third floor two at a time. What would she say when she saw him again? How would she react? He’d have to tell her all of the truth. Everything.

Through the doors and around a corner he jogged, nearly plowing into Detective Reed who lingered near the door to Caitlyn’s room. Reed was rumpled, his hair a mess, his tie loose, his jaw ragged with beard growth, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. Probably a reflection of Adam himself.

“I thought you guys were finished.”

“We are. But I wanted to ask you a few more questions, just to tie up some loose ends.”

“Fine, but first—”

“Yeah, go in and see her. I’ll go grab a cup of coffee in the cafeteria, if the media lets me. They’re all over this one.” He shook his head wearily. “Have been from the onset. You can meet me downstairs when you’re done here.”

“I will.” Adam nodded, then strode into the sterile looking room.

Caitlyn was awake. Lying flat on her back, IVs running into one arm. Her hair was mussed and she looked as if she’d lost ten pounds in the last twenty-four hours, but as he walked closer to the bed, her eyes cleared. And they were angry as hell. “You knew,” she charged before he could say a word. “You knew about the split personality—and don’t worry, just for the record, I’m Caitlyn now, not Kelly.”

“I didn’t know. I guess I should have, but I only figured out the truth when I found Rebecca’s disks. I was going to tell you as soon as—”

“You bastard!”

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