Page 89 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

The scene at the plantation home with her mother, Lucille, Ian and her siblings, then Berneda being rushed to the hospital, had been more than she’d been able to handle. All the melodrama. All the secrets. All the damned innuendoes. No wonder the family was cursed with mental problems; everyone seemed to feed on them.

And it was time to put a stop to it. At least for her.

She had to get better. To end the demons in her mind. Adam Hunt was a psychologist; what transpired between them was private, and she had to trust somebody. Not the police. Not her own family. Not her own mind. Not even Kelly.

So you’re going to spill your guts to a total stranger?

Caitlyn could almost hear Kelly mocking her.

You are nuts. Bona fide and certifiable. Just like Nana!

“Stop it!” Caitlyn screamed, pounding a fist on the steering wheel. The horn blared and she jumped. Shocked herself out of the rage that consumed her. She couldn’t put up with this another second. Couldn’t stand listening to the doubts in her mind. Wouldn’t be a victim any longer. For years she’d been a prisoner of her own mind, but no more.

Either Adam Hunt was salvation or he was destruction, but he was damned well something, her only hope.

She had to push forward, to find a way out of the trap that was her mind. Whether it turned out to be the biggest mistake of her life or her deliverance, she was going to go through with it. She swung out of the car. Before she could second-guess herself, she strode up a short path and up the back flight of stairs to Adam’s office.

The door was ajar.

She tapped lightly on the old painted panels; the door creaked open to a darkened, empty room. Caitlyn felt a chill. As if it were a warning reminding her that she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t step across the threshold. Which was silly. She was just a few minutes early. And she had to change the course of her life. Today. Before she lost what fragile hold she had on her own sanity.

You’d better take a seat outside, in one of the chairs clustered around the corner at the landing, where all the patients who visit this floor wait until they’re invited in. It was a cozy spot. Magazines littered the small table, and water was available from a cooler. She knew Adam would expect to find her there.

But tonight, after hurrying up the back staircase, Caitlyn saw no reason for that kind of protocol. Tonight she was a new person. Bold rather than timid. Forthright rather than shy. She stepped into the darkened office and noted the empty coffee cups on a small table and the crumpled tissues in the wastebasket tucked discreetly behind one arm of the couch. Were they hers from her last visit, or did Adam have more clients, other people he was trying to help?

She heard a creak and turned to the open door, but no one arrived.

Ghosts, she thought, remembering how Lucille had told her that if she listened very hard and concentrated, wasn’t distracted by outside noise or even the sound of her own heartbeat, she could hear them.

No one arrived. She ran a finger along the edge of Adam’s desk and wondered what he thought of her, what notes he’d jotted about her and her family. Did he think she was truly going out of her mind? His legal pads were stacked in a corner of the desk. All she had to do was lift one up and start reading. What was the harm in that? As long as she only looked at her file, what kind of trouble could she get into? After all, it was her life and she was paying him to help her.

Biting her lip, she picked up the first tablet, but dropped it as if it burned her fingers when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Quickly, making as little noise as possible, she flew to the couch and had just sat down when Adam walked in and flipped on a light switch. He visibly started, his body flinching as he saw her in the corner of his couch.

“Caitlyn?” Glancing at his watch, he said, “I didn’t realize I was late.”

“You aren’t. I got here early and the door was open, so I decided to park it.” She smiled and hoped she didn’t look as guilty as she felt. All her doubts seeped away as she saw the ghost of a smile touch his lips. He seemed so genuine. So caring. “I hope that was all right.”

“Of course it is.” But his voice didn’t sound as warm as it usually did. “I just ran out to get some more coffee.” He held up a small brown bag, then opened it and pulled out a jar of coffee crystals and non-dairy creamer. He carried the soup heater into the bathroom and filled it with water, then plugged it in. As the water heated, he took his chair and reached for his notepad. The one on the top of the stack.

“You want to tell me about what happened to your sister and your mother? You sounded pretty shook up when you called.”

“I was. Am,” she admitted, refusing to back down, to listen to the warnings in her mind. Tonight. She was going to start reliving her life. Right now. This very moment. Her fists clenched so hard she felt her nails bite into her palms. Slowly uncurling her fingers, she started with her sister’s accident and its aftermath. She explained the family dynamics, about Ian’s anger, Berneda’s frailty and Hannah’s bad attitude. She mentioned that Lucille had been bristly and that the whole family treated Caitlyn with a hands-off attitude.

“It’s as if they not only think I’m addled or feebleminded,” she said, standing to walk to the window and watch night descend over the city, “but they treat me as if I’m some kind of scary creature and they’re afraid that if someone says or does the wrong thing, I might completely flip out and end up in the mental hospital again.”

“Are you afraid of that?”

“Yes!” She turned to stare straight at him. “Yes! Yes! Yes! I’ve been in one and let me tell you, it’s no picnic. The people in there . . .” She lifted her hands toward the ceiling, as if in supplication from heaven. “My God, for as long as I can remember I’ve heard people whispering about me, about how I’m some kind of freak. Some people think I killed Charles, even members of my family, because I pulled the damned arrow from his chest and they think . . . Oh, I don’t know what they think. Just that I’m crazy, I guess.” She flopped back onto the couch. “Looney Tunes is the favorite phrase. I guess that’s not quite as harsh as insane, and please, don’t ask me if I’m insane, okay? Because I don’t really know.” Tossing her hair out of her eyes, she fought the urge to crumble completely. “You should have seen them at the house. All of them. Mom included. It was just plain weird.”

“Well, let’s try to keep you out of the hospital, okay?” He offered her a smile that somehow cut through all of the shadows in her mind.

“I’m all for it.”

His gaze held hers, maybe a second longer than necessary, and she experienced that little jolt of excitement, the sizzle in her nerve endings, whenever she met a man she found interesting.

“You said something about your mother being in the hospital,” he prodded. His voice seemed a bit rougher than it had been.

“Because of all the anxiety over Amanda’s claims that someone was trying to kill her, I think, she had an angina attack as she climbed the stairs for bed. It was touch and go for a while, but she’s stabilized.”

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