Page 99 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

“That I do.” He followed her down the hallway to the room in question. As she’d said, the Montgomery family was waiting. And none too happy about it as they slumped on uncomfortable couches, their f

eatures tortured with grief. All eyes looked his way as he opened the glass door.

“I told you,” the oldest, Amanda, said as he stepped into the private area, “I told you this would happen!” She’d been standing near a potted palm and practically flew at him when he showed up. The bruise over her eye had turned a shade no amount of makeup could hide, but other than the obvious discoloration, she seemed to show no ill effects from her accident—well, aside from her current state of agitation. Reed was willing to bet the wreck didn’t have much to do with that. Amanda Montgomery Drummond was just hardwired in a natural state of turmoil. “Look what happened!” she insisted. “Mother’s dead. My God, are you guys ever going to catch this creep?”

“We’re doing our best.”

“Well, it’s not good enough. Can’t you see? You’re running out of time. Whoever is doing this is stepping up his pace. I think we’d be better off hiring a private investigator.”

“Amanda, calm down,” the brother, Troy, ordered. He sat on a corner of the couch, hands clasped between his knees, his face a mask of grief. His shoulders drooped and he looked as if he hadn’t slept for days.

“Don’t tell me what to do. Someone killed our mother. And I think a PI would be a good idea. Obviously there’s a maniac loose and he’s picking us off one by one. For some reason he’s got this thing for the Montgomerys. None of us are safe.”

The youngest one, Hannah, was sniffing loudly and wiping at red-rimmed eyes with a tissue. Huddled in a corner near Caitlyn, she eyed Reed as if he were the enemy. Caitlyn visibly tensed at the sight of Reed. Dry-eyed, she stiffened as he approached. “I’ll need to take statements from all of you.”

“Oh, great. Because you think one of us did this?” Amanda checked her watch. “I do have a job, you know, and there are people who need to be contacted and a funeral to be arranged . . .” Her throat caught at that and some of her tough-as-nails exterior crumbled a little. “I wish Ian was home.”

“Just bear with us. I know it isn’t easy, but we are trying to figure out what’s going on,” he said, trying to keep the frustration from his tone. These people weren’t the only ones feeling the pressure. He wanted to put an end to this immediately. “Let’s start with you,” he said to Caitlyn. He reached for his pocket recorder, and Morrisette opened up her notepad. They’d take the statements, one at a time, add them to those already extracted from the hospital workers and try to narrow the field.

“Where were you last night around three?”

I feel badly about Mother, in a way, but I’m not coming to the funeral, so please, don’t try to talk me into it. I would have called but knew I’d get a guilt trip about why I should show up.

Kelly’s curt e-mail message was waiting for Caitlyn when she got back from the hospital. It had been grueling, talking to the police when they were treating her like a suspect, then battling late-afternoon traffic that had been stalled for an accident. She’d had the sunroof open and the air-conditioning on and still baked, only to arrive home to this. Great. So much for mending fences. Didn’t Kelly get it? Mother was dead. As in forever. Everything else seemed small in comparison. Gone. Forever. Caitlyn’s heart twisted, and she blinked back tears. She’d made it through the damned interview with Reed, hadn’t broken down, had maintained her cool, but now driving home, she was beginning to fall apart again. She had never been her mother’s favorite child, but there had been times, happy childhood times, that couldn’t be forgotten.

She needed to get out. To do something. To find a way to keep the grief at bay. Though she’d never been as close to her mother as some daughters were, she still felt a loss, a tremendous hole in her life. She’d go for a run. If she could manage to dodge the media. Shuddering, she remembered how they’d gathered at the hospital. Bloodsuckers. First the police and then the reporters. It had been an onslaught. Sometimes she thought she should come clean with Detective Reed about the night Josh was killed, tell him about waking up in her room and finding all the blood. Just let the damned chips fall where they may.

Are you crazy? She could almost hear her twin’s reaction to that idea.

And the truth was, she didn’t know. Every day she seemed to slip a little deeper into the dark abyss. “Get over it, Caitlyn. Pull yourself together.” Until tomorrow. Then she’d meet with Marvin Wilder, the attorney Amanda had set her up with. He’d advise her on what her best course of action should be. She sat in her desk chair and clicked off the computer. “I didn’t do it—I didn’t kill Josh,” she said aloud, but her confidence was crumbling fast and she couldn’t help but wonder, was it possible? Could she have killed her husband, attempted to kill her sister and then when that didn’t work, murdered her own mother? Her hands were shaking, her breathing shallow and rapid. She gripped the side of the desk. Help me, she silently prayed, please help me.

God helps those who help themselves.

Where the hell did that come from? Some old sermon she’d heard as a kid? Or had it been her father’s advice coming to the surface after all these years, after his wife’s murder? She closed her eyes for a second. She wouldn’t fall apart. Not now. Not ever again.

What you could use is a positively wicked martini.

This time it was Kelly’s advice she heard.

“Not just a plain martini?” she said aloud and, of course, there was no response. If Kelly had been there, she would have grinned impishly, her eyes lighting as she replied:

No, Caitie-Did ... it definitely has to be wicked.

“Of course it does,” she said to the empty room. “Is there any other kind?” The suggestion sounded so full of possibilities that she clicked on the computer and answered Kelly’s e-mail by asking her over for a drink. Maybe she could talk her into going to the funeral. Stranger things had happened.

Yeah, all the time, and always to you!

She almost crumbled into a million pieces again as she thought of Jamie, Josh and her mother . . . no, she couldn’t let herself be destroyed. She had to pull herself together. Quickly, she composed the e-mail and sent it off to cyberspace before changing into running clothes. There were still a couple of hours before dark and she needed to work out a lot of things. Get her mind straight. Not be confused. Things had changed forever. She was in a new phase. Life without her mother. Her heart ached painfully at the thought, for although she and Berneda had never seen eye to eye, she’d loved the older woman, cared for her even though years before, Berneda had refused to believe her when Caitlyn, haltingly and embarrassed, had told her about the things that had happened to her . . . how Charles had come to her room late at night, how Nana had touched her....

“Oh, God,” she whispered, as a flash of memory tore through her brain. Her throat tightened and she bit her lip. Shadows, dark and murky, flitted through her mind, but they were impossible to catch hold of, sifting through her mind as quickly as cold sand through her fingers. Charles. He’d come to her room, she remembered that, but not much of what happened once he’d slipped through the doorway and crept silently to her bed. “No. Don’t . . .” Caitlyn’s throat tightened. Her voice sounded weird, distant, as if it hadn’t come from inside her. Her lungs barely moved and she couldn’t so much as draw a breath. She leaned hard against the door to her room.

Call Adam. Let him help you.

She wanted to. Oh, God, she wanted to, but she couldn’t lean on him at every turn, not until she sorted some things out for herself. Later . . . then she’d call.

And why would you do that, Caitie-Did? You kissed him last time and you liked it, didn’t you? You’re hoping for more. You want to kiss him, hard. See if he’ll respond. Feel his touch.

No. This would be a professional appointment, she told herself as she forced herself down the stairs.

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