Page 76 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

“Yes, he did. I’m sure it’ll be just a few minutes. We?

??re busy tonight. There are other patients,” the nurse replied with a long-suffering and extremely forced smile, then looked at the pager strapped to her belt. “Just wait here.” She walked across the blue carpet to a house phone and picked it up while her patient seethed in her wheelchair.

“Mrs. Drummond?” Reed asked, flipping open his wallet to show his badge. “Pierce Reed, Savannah Police Department.”

“I know who you are,” she said impatiently. “What’re you doing here?”

“Heard you had a mishap.”

“A mishap? Is that what you guys call it? Jesus, my damned brake line was cut, or so the officer at the scene said when he phoned my husband. If it’s true my brake line was cut, then someone deliberately tried to kill me.” She shoved her hair out of her eyes. “Again.” Angling her head up to get a better view of him, she asked, “You do know about that, right? That I was nearly forced off the road about six months ago? No one seemed to care then, but now, after I almost die, you show up.” She folded her arms over her chest. “So it wasn’t a mishap, Detective. It wasn’t even an accident.” She started to rise to her feet. “Someone tried to kill me!”

“Please, Mrs. Drummond, stay in the wheelchair. It’s hospital policy,” the nurse said.

“I don’t need a wheelchair, I just need to get out of here,” Amanda snapped. She was on her feet now, her gaze never once leaving Reed’s face. “And I need police protection. Someone’s taking potshots at my family and it seems like I’m next on the list.”

“Do you have any idea who?”

“Isn’t that your job? You’re the detective.”

“I’d like to take a statement about what happened,” he said and wondered why her jabs got under his skin. Pampered, rich bitch.

“Good. It’s time you guys took what’s happening seriously. Before the rest of the family ends up like Josh Bandeaux!” She watched as a car slid into the patient loading area near the double doors. “If you’ll excuse me, my husband’s here.” She cast a disparaging look at the nurse. “I’m leaving, with or without the release.”

“No problem. Dr. Randolph just signed it.” The nurse handed her an envelope just as a tall, thin man in a pilot’s uniform approached.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded, then, more quietly, asked, “Are you okay?”

“What happened is that someone tried to kill me and I ended up totaling the TR. And . . . no . . . I’m not okay.” Amanda seemed to soften a bit, even blinked and cleared her throat as if she were near tears. Somehow she managed to pull herself together and find that razor-sharp tongue of hers again. “This is Detective Reed, Ian.” She motioned to Reed. “He’s going to nail the bastard who did this before he gets another crack at me. Isn’t that right, Detective?”

“We’ll do our best.”

“Mrs. Drummond. Please sit down.” The nurse was firm, and reluctantly Amanda dropped into the wheelchair. The nurse began to push Amanda through the automatic doors. “I hope you do your best,” Amanda said to Reed as she left the hospital. “Because the next time I might not be so lucky, and you’ll find yourself in the middle of another unsolved homicide.”

Caitlyn couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. She was in her office, working on a project she’d pushed aside for nearly a week. Her desk lamp and monitor provided soft light, and smooth jazz was playing from the speakers. Standing, she squinted to look through the lacy curtains, searching for hidden eyes. It was night; the street lamp in front of her house illuminating the fenced gardens in an eerie blue light. A fine mist was falling, fogging up the windows a bit, softening shadows, glistening on the street. From the corner of her eye, she noticed movement, a darker shadow in the shrubbery.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Leaves moved. She could almost hear the rustle of footsteps.

That’s because you’re paranoid. There’s no one out there. No one.

She swallowed hard and saw the gleam of two beady eyes, low to the ground.

She tensed. The shrubbery shivered. A possum waddled into the lamplight, and Caitlyn, feeling foolish, breathed a little easier. Now she was jumping at shadows.

Still, she felt the weight of some unwanted gaze, and she snapped the shade down and leaned back in her desk chair. Maybe the police were following her; she wouldn’t be surprised. Whether Detective Reed said it or not, he’d zeroed in on her as Josh’s killer, and the trouble was, she wasn’t able to defend herself. Or maybe someone else was silently stalking her, the same person who had been in her bedroom on the night of Josh’s death, the one who was in some way responsible for all that blood.

You, Caitie. You’re responsible.

“No,” she whispered, trying to concentrate on her work, refusing to believe the horrid thought. Maybe she should call Adam. She was so restless, and it felt right talking to him.

As a patient, or as a woman? Face it, Caitlyn, you just want to see him again.

“Damn.” She was tired of listening to her nag of a conscience that sounded so much like her twin’s voice.

She glanced at the computer monitor. On the screen an image she’d been working on, a vampire bat in flight, mocked her. The deadline for the artwork to be submitted for approval to the local zoo’s board was only a week away and she was behind.

She adjusted the bat’s movements, trying to concentrate, hoping that the image of the creature flying over a silvery disk of moon and through iron gates would help draw in the website’s visitors. She wanted this opening page to be intriguing, hinting at all the old myths and superstitions while being scientifically accurate. She was tired, the muscles of her back beginning to ache from sitting so long in the chair, her nerves jangled as they were every night. She stood up and stretched, still staring down at the screen, and Oscar, who’d been sitting at her feet, barked.

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