The good news was that Hannah was going to live. One of the few Montgomery children to have avoided Amanda or Atropos’s deadly scheme.
A nurse with a wheelchair appeared in the doorway. She must’ve expected Caitlyn to protest. “Hospital policy,” she insisted, dismissing any of Caitlyn’s complaints before they were voiced. “Is someone coming to get you?”
“My brother said he’d be here at ten.” Adam had offered to pick her up but Caitlyn had declined, insisting that Troy, less enthusiastic, could pick her up.
“Then we’d better get going.” The nurse checked her watch. “It’s five after now.”
An aide with wild, curly hair clipped in springy clumps gathered up her personal items, the cards and flowers, and pushed them on a cart that rattled and jangled Caitlyn’s nerves.
She was still on pain pills, and sleeping pills. She was still suffering from nightmares and her doctor had put her in touch with a new psychiatrist. Her first session was a week from Friday. She wondered if it would ever end, if she’d ever be completely normal.
Not likely, considering what you’ve been through . . . just take it one day at a time.
As the nurse pushed her down the hallway she thought of the past few days. Would it be possible to put all this behind her, she wondered as she was wheeled into the elevator car. God, it was hard to think of Amanda as Atropos, the murderess, that she’d killed everyone in the family including Josh and Jamie. There were so many things Caitlyn didn’t want to believe . . . that Rebecca Wade had wanted to write a book about her, that Adam had been married to Rebecca, that Amanda had set her up, staged Josh’s fake suicide to make it look like a bungled coverup on Caitlyn’s part. Amanda had stolen her lipstick, tripped over the cord of the alarm clock, sneaked Jamie’s bunny out of the house, had pretended to be her daughter on the telephone and tried to drive Caitlyn crazy—well, even more crazy than she really was. And to think that Adam had known some of the truth and held it back from her, at least for a little while. It still made her blood boil.
Don’t dwell on the past. Move forward.
Give Adam a chance.
She snorted in disgust. Adam had lied to her. Used her.
Just like every other man in her life.
But he’s hung around for a while now. Isn’t that something?
The voice nagging her was her own, no longer sounding like Kelly’s. Now Caitlyn wondered if the voice had ever belonged to her twin. Kelly was dead. Though her body hadn’t been found after the boating accident, everyone had accepted the fact that she’d died. Only Caitlyn had fought the notion and so her personality, already shattered, had split into a second entity. If the psychiatrists were to be believed. She’d been told that she had years of therapy ahead of her, that eventually she would be able to mold the Kelly personality into her own, to be one whole person rather than two distinct entities. It would take time but she would be complete, her own person, happy and secure, left with only memories of her twin.
The elevator doors opened on the first floor and Caitlyn froze. In the lobby of the hospital, camped out near the doors, were two reporters. Max O’Dell, square jawed and dressed in a sport coat, polo shirt and khakis was with a cameraman from WKAM and Nikki Gillette was flipping through a battle-scarred magazine in a lounge near the information desk.
Great.
Just what she needed.
Both reporters saw her within the same millisecond and pounced. “Mrs. Bandeaux, if I could have a word,” Max said, striding closer and flashing his most charming smile.
“You know hospital policy,” the nurse said.
“No comment.” Caitlyn returned his aren’t-we-the-best-of-buddies grin with a cold replication. She turned to Nikki who, backpack slung over one shoulder, was swiftly approaching. “The same goes for you.”
The nurse pushed her wheelchair through the double sets of glass doors and the aide rolled the rattling cart of flowers behind them. Undaunted, Max and Nikki trailed like bloodhounds. It was all Caitlyn could do not to scream at them that she wanted to be left alone, that she didn’t want to see her face or name splashed all over the evening news or the front page of the Savennah Sentinel, that she just wanted some peace in her life.
Outside Adam was waiting, one jean-clad hip resting against the fender of his double-parked rig. A beat-up leather jacket was stretched across his shoulders and one side of his mouth lifted at the sight of her. He opened the passenger-side door, as if he expected her to climb inside.
“Wait a minute, where’s Troy?” Caitlyn demanded.
“Hung up at the bank.”
“What? I just talked to him an hour ago.”
Adam’s eyes glinted with a bit of mischief. “It was last-minute.”
“Bull.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Maybe we should call him.” Caitlyn didn’t have any time for this nonsense.
“My cell’s in the car.”
“Good, maybe you could bring it to me,” she said, then realized the nurse was becoming impatient, the aide had pushed the cart of flowers and gifts to the back of the SUV and Max O’Dell, Nikki Gillette and the cameraman were all hovering nearby, waiting for a story, watching the drama playing out between Caitlyn and Adam Hunt.
“Come on. I don’t bite.” His eyes actually sparked for an instant. “Well, not usually.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Oh, you definitely do.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Very funny.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Was the cameraman really filming this? Oh, for God’s sake! “Isn’t there something more newsworthy than me leaving the hospital?” she asked of Max O’Dell before turning back to Adam. “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go.”
He helped her into the rig, and she wondered if she was making the worst mistake of her life.
That would be going some, considering your track record. Give the guy a chance. Just hear him out. What have you got to lose?
She didn’t want to think about it. She watched him climb into the driver’s seat and twist on the ignition. He smelled of leather and the faint scent of some masculine cologne. She remembered kissing him, the feel of his lips on hers and quickly killed the thought.
“Let’s see if we can lose the press,” he said as he gunned the accelerator, wheeled out of the parking lot and she relaxed against the tufted leather. She was just too tired to fight. Glancing out the window to the sunny day beyond she wondered again about falling in love with him. Would it be so wrong? Wouldn’t he just break her heart?
Oh, get over it. Your heart’s been broken before. If he turns out to be a loser, you can always throw him out on his ass. Come on, Caitie-Did. Go for it.
It was almost as if she could hear her sister’s advice again and she figured that every once in a while it didn’t hurt to imagine that she was listening to her twin. Every once in a while she needed to remember. Even now she could recall Kelly as a child, pushing her to climb a tree, or swim in a deeper part of the river, of laughing at her and teasing her, the girl who looked so much like her and was so different. As a teenager Kelly had been daring, nearly as accomplished as Amanda at sports and yet feminine and a tad naughty. She’d been so confident and free on the day of the boating accident . . . Yes, it was good for Caitlyn to remember. She just wouldn’t let it go too far.
Hell, Caitie-Did, Kelly seemed to say now, give Adam a break. You’re an idiot if you can’t see that he’s in love with you.
Caitlyn glanced over at him as he shoved a pair of sunglasses over the bridge of his nose and angled the Jeep through traffic. As if feeling the weight of her stare, his lips twitched and he placed his hand over hers to give it a quick squeeze before letting go.
Her heart stupidly skipped a beat.
“Just drive,” she said.
“Your wish is my command.”
“Yeah, right.”
He laughed and so did she. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
Time would tell.
>
It always did.
“So that does it. The Bandeaux case is officially closed,” Morrisette said a week later as she strode into Reed’s office. She was waving a check and smiling broadly.
“What’s that?” Reed looked up from his paperwork and leaned back in his chair.
“Money from Bart. Can you believe it? He’s actually caught up with the child support. First time in years!” She plopped onto the corner of his desk and folded the check into her pocket.
“He win the lottery?”
“Close enough. An aunt died, left him a little and before he ran out and bought a new pickup—oh, yeah, he did that, too—his conscience got the better of him and he decided to pay me what he owed me before I sicced a bevy of lawyers onto his ass. What a prince. Did I say prince? I meant dickhead.” She ran fingers through her spiked hair. “So—we’re all clear on the Montgomery thing?”
“Think so. Paperwork has to be caught up, but yeah, we’re done. The remains dragged out of the river did turn out to be Marta Vasquez’s. Her mother’s having a memorial for her. I talked to Lucille on the phone and she gave me the whole story. That she had a one-night stand with her boss.”
At the lift of Morrisette’s eyebrows he shrugged. “One-night stand, that’s what she says and does it really matter? The point is who would have thought Marta Vasquez was another one of Cameron Montgomery’s illegitimate kids? Man, did that guy ever keep his pants on?”
“Bad luck for her that she ran into Amanda, or Atropos or whoever she was, before anyone else.”
“One more kid after the old man’s money—she just got a late start. Didn’t realize Cameron was her father until around last December when Lucille told her on the phone.”
“And she didn’t bother telling Montoya about it?”
“She didn’t tell anyone. Except Amanda, as she was part of the law firm that handled Cameron’s estate.” Reed leaned back in his chair and rotated the muscles of his shoulders.
“So where is Montoya?” Morrisette asked as if the thought had just jumped into her head, but Reed recognized the signs.
In the few short days Montoya had been in Savannah, tough-as-nails Detective Morrisette had taken an interest in the younger man. That was the trouble with Sylvie; she was always swearing off men, then falling for the next guy who caught her eye. Reed had to give her the bad news. “Montoya already took off.”
If Morrisette was disappointed, she hid it as she scanned some of the reports littering his desk.
“He said something about taking a leave of absence from the New Orleans force. Seems to think his partner, Bentz, will understand. It’s just a matter of convincing the higher-ups.”
“Why doesn’t he come back here?”
“Probably a lot of bad memories.”
“Yeah, but some woman might make him forget Marta.”
Reed leveled his gaze at her. “As long as some woman doesn’t get too involved with a young buck ten or twelve years her junior.”
“Or even seven?”
“Yeah, even seven.”
Morrisette’s eyes twinkled, but she changed the subject. “I hear Dickie Ray Biscayne is still after the Montgomerys for his share of their estate. He’s kept Flynn Donahue on retainer. Now he wants Cricket and Sugar’s share and maybe even Amanda’s. It seems he learned something about wrongful death from Josh Bandeaux.”
“Greedy son of a bitch.”
“Aren’t they all?” Morrisette asked. “Ian Drummond, Amanda’s ex, is being courted for a tell-all book and he wants his wife’s share of the estate, even though he was banging Sugar Biscayne. For a guy who just lost his two lovers, he sure has his hand out. Money must be able to heal a broken heart.”
“That I wouldn’t know about.”
“Hannah’s expected to recover. She’s talking about moving away. Starting over. Putting this behind her. If that’s possible.”
Reed nodded. “I don’t blame her. She was involved with Bandeaux, too. And then her sister tries to kill her by slitting her throat.” He shook his head. Savannah had a reputation for scandalous stories, but this topped them all. “Hell, Rebecca Wade sure stepped into it, didn’t she?”
“And ended up one more victim.”
“In a long string.”
“No pun intended,” Morrisette said and Reed was reminded of Atropos with her surgical scissors and braided cords. “What a psychopath! And when it gets right down to it, Amanda killed for the Montgomery money.”
“Nah.” Reed wasn’t buying it. “She killed for the killing’s sake.” He thought of all the victims, how they’d suffered, how much thought and effort Amanda, as Atropos, had put into the murders. “It was a thrill for her, a way she could prove that she was smarter than the others, that she deserved to inherit the old man’s wealth. She loved it—got off on it.”
Morrisette nodded. “Point taken. What a shame. An effin’ shame.” Morrisette was religiously putting money into the damned Hello Kitty bank, but her language still suffered. At least her kids would end up with a decent education—hell, they could probably go effin’ ivy league.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Adam Hunt wrote a book on it, you know, pick up where his ex-wife left off,” Reed said. “I hear that book publishers are sniffin’ around him and Caitlyn Bandeaux. Even talk of a movie deal. How about that?”
“Someone will probably do it.” She scratched an elbow. “You know, if Amanda killed everyone to inherit the fortune, she sure took her damned time about it. First Baby Parker and then years later she escalates? Come on. That’s not usual.”
“Nothing about this case was.” Reed had thought about the time frame. “Between you and me, I think she snapped, I mean really snapped when she found out her husband was having a fling with Sugar Biscayne, but then, I don’t really know. I’m not the shrink. It’s damned ironic that she was setting up Caitlyn, using all the rumors about the mental illness running through the family when she was the one who thought she was other people, had delusions of power, a real head case. She seemed like a split personality with all that Atropos crap. Caitlyn Bandeaux did the taxpayers of the city a big favor by blowing her away.” He glanced out his window to the bright day outside. Savannah was a grand old lady of a town, one he’d lived in twice, but she had her secrets. Dark, ever-present secrets.
“How would you like to have that on your conscience—killing your own sister?” Morrisette asked.
“It wouldn’t bother me a bit. Remember this is a sister who had killed my kid, my mother, my father, my husband and everyone else she could murder. How would I feel about putting her out of her misery?” Reed flashed a grin. “I’d feel just fine about it. Guaranteed.”
“Yeah, right.”
“But I’m sure Caitlyn Bandeaux is going to have years of therapy. Maybe even a lifetime of it.”
“At least she’s alive. And I hear she’s been seeing Adam Hunt.”
“Romantically?”
Morrisette lifted a shoulder. “He is a hunk.”
“You would know.”
“Amen, brother. Amen!” She slapped his desk as her pager went off. “What now?” She glanced at the readout and hopped to the floor. “It’s my sitter. I’ve got to run. I’m taking the rest of the day off to be with my kids. Takin’ ’em swimming, now that they’re both healthy again. We’re going shopping on Bart’s fuckin’ money. And don’t worry, I’ve got another bank on the shopping list. The first one’s full up.”
“You getting another one of those kitty things?”
“Is there any other kind? If you need anything, don’t call.” She was out the door in a heartbeat.
“Drive safely,” he yelled after her. “Remember we have speed limits in this town and they’re strictly enforced.”
“Up yours, Reed!” But her laughter echoed back to him. Sylvie Morrisette was okay, once you got past the prickly I’m-as-good-as-any-man-cop attitude. He could do worse. Lots worse.
Epilogue
“You want to go for a ride??
?? Caitlyn asked Oscar as she hurried down the stairs. “Well, come on.” The little dog bounded ahead of her through the door to the garage. The Lexus was already filled with small bouquets of holly boughs and bright poinsettias, Christmas bouquets for the cemetery.
While Oscar stuck his nose out of the open window, she drove through the town where grand old houses were festooned in lights and greenery and ribbons. It was nearly Christmas, and Caitlyn felt better than she had in a long, long while. She was going to a new therapist, one with whom she wasn’t personally involved, and she was even considering allowing Adam to write her story. Not that he’d asked; he’d never mentioned it once in the past six months and he’d been with her nearly every day. He wanted her to move in with him and there was the hint of marriage, but she wasn’t ready. She needed more time to find out who she was, Caitlyn Montgomery Bandeaux. Until she was certain that she was mentally whole again, she didn’t want to become a part of someone else’s life.
She parked near the family plot and snapped on Oscar’s leash. The wind was brisk for Savannah, rustling through the dry leaves and billowing the Spanish moss. With Oscar tugging at the leash, she carried flowers to each grave, holding back tears when she saw her daughter’s headstone.
Her throat thick, she kissed her fingertips and brushed them over the cold marble. “I love you,” she whispered and sent up a prayer for Jamie’s sweet little soul. Some pain would never completely go away, she knew, and she accepted it.
But the terror of the horrible ordeal with Amanda was fading, blurring into her past, very rarely keeping her awake at night.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him and smiled through her tears. Adam had said he’d meet her here, in this place where he’d first approached her. Her doubts about him had faded with time and she’d found him to be warm and gentle, a considerate lover who was patient or passionate. The first time they’d made love since she’d left the hospital, she’d been worried, concerned that it might spark the return of her Kelly personality. She needn’t have been concerned. The entire night of kissing and touching and exploring, she’d been herself, feeling for the first time the joy of loving him.