Page 46 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

Grief And Family Counseling

A phone number was listed on the bottom line.

She saw it as a lifeline to her sanity.

Finding her purse where it had fallen to the floor, Caitlyn leaned over the side of the bed, reached inside and dragged out her cell phone. Her battery had run down again, but there was still a little power. Without thinking twice, she punched out Adam Hunt’s telephone number. She had to get help. She couldn’t take this much longer or she would completely crack up. Just like her grandmother Evelyn had.

She shuddered as the phone rang.

Cold, cold Nana.

Naughty Nana.

Bad lady.

Twelve

Adam waited.

In Rebecca’s office.

He’d made arrangements with the rental management company, not that it was legal. But he was able to talk his way in as Rebecca was a couple of months behind on the rent and Adam agreed to pay the money due, explaining that he was a friend. Fortunately, the building manager wasn’t all that concerned about the legality of the transaction—just the cash. Adam slipped him an extra five-hundred dollars in cash, promised to vacate if Dr. Wade showed up, and the louse managed to turn a greedy blind eye.

So much for ethics in property management.

But Adam couldn’t complain. He was eyeball deep in the illegal transaction, and he’d spent the past three days reading everything he could about Caitlyn Montgomery, sensing she was somehow the key to Rebecca’s disappearance.

If she’s really disappeared.

She could be on one of her “sealf-awareness trips.”

Or she could have found another man; taken a lover.

It’s not as if she hadn’t done it before.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Really wrong this time. Rebecca had mentioned a breakthrough with one of her patients, a major breakthrough, and then she’d disappeared. True, she’d been talking about taking some time off, heading west and seeing parts of the country she’d never visited before, but to leave without saying good-bye, to never call or send a postcard? No, it didn’t feel right. And yet he hadn’t gone to the police again. Not after the last time. Not until he was certain. He’d already gone to her house and picked the locks. The house was deserted, but not emptied. Too many personal items had remained . . . he’d have to talk to the landlady, but he hadn’t caught up with her yet. Had avoided her until he’d had a quick look for himself.

Now he heard a slight rap on the partially opened door, and then Caitlyn Montgomery Bandeaux poked her head around the corner. Mahogany-colored hair framed a heart-shaped face sculpted with high cheekbones, arched eyebrows and intelligent, troubled eyes.

He was on his feet in an instant. “Come in.”

Cautiously, she slid through the door. “This is kind of weird,” she admitted, surveying the surroundings.

“Because this was Rebecca’s office?” God, she was beautiful. He’d remembered that from the cemetery, but it seemed that today, without the strain of the funeral, she was prettier, had more color. Not that it should matter.

“Yes.” She managed a shy smile. “Because it’s Rebecca’s office.”

“Will it make you uncomfortable?”

“I don’t know.” She managed a smile and smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from a khaki skirt that buttoned up the front. Her hair was piled loosely onto her head, falling down in some places, and she looked nervous. Edgy. A little ragged around the edges. But then she’d been through quite a bit in the past few days.

“You changed things around,” she said, tugging at the sleeves of her pale sweater.

“A bit.” He’d replaced a couple of the lamps, thrown two new rugs over the floors, put up cheap prints he’d bought at an estate sale, and prominently displayed his degrees behind the desk. He’d repositioned the couch and chairs and thrown out the dead plants, replacing them with a couple of ferns.

“This does seem a little surreal,” she admitted as she took a seat in the rocker and dropped her purse onto the floor beside her.

“I imagine.”

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