The Night Before by Lisa Jackson Page B

whether someone did him in or he killed himself?” Troy asked, jarring her back to the here and now. Oh, God, she had to pull herself together; she couldn’t let anyone, not even Troy, know about her own fears.
    “Oh . . . yes, I mean . . . I’m sure they can. It just takes time.”
    Troy snorted his disgust and jingled his keys in the pocket of his slacks. “Savannah’s finest. You didn’t tell them anything, did you?” Hard blue eyes examined hers, looked for a crack, for the lie.
    “I couldn’t. I don’t know anything.” Except that there was blood smeared upstairs. So damned much blood. It wasn’t Josh’s lifeblood. It couldn’t be! She slid into one of the chairs, exhausted and scared to death.
    “But you’ve got to be one of their prime suspects,” Troy said, frowning. His hair was as dark as hers, just the hint of gray visible at his temples. He stood arrow-straight, wide shoulders and slim hips, a man of thirty-three in excellent shape. “It’s no big secret that he was having an affair and going to divorce you.”
    “Nice, Troy,” she muttered. “No reason to sugarcoat things.”
    “Exactly. What you’ve got on your hands here is a crisis.”
    “Me?” she asked, then saw the white lines bracketing his lips. “What’re you saying? That I killed Josh?”
    “Of course not.”
    Still, she was burned. “You know, I could use a little support. It’s been a helluva day and it’s not over yet.” Tears blistered her eyes, but she didn’t swipe at them. Wouldn’t give in. Oscar, sensing a fight, slunk to his favorite spot under the table.
    Troy’s keys jangled as he stared outside to the back garden. “I’m sorry. I . . . I’m not very good in the support department.”
    “No argument there.”
    “But you do have to face the fact that you’re an obvious suspect.” Plowing the fingers of both hands through his hair, he let out a world-weary sigh. As if being the only living Montgomery male was sometimes too much to bear. “Maybe you should move home for a while.”
    “This is my home.”
    “I know, I know, but it might be better if you got out of town, moved out to the country, stayed with Mom at Oak Hill.”
    “You mean ‘lay low’?”
    “I didn’t say—”
    “I’m not a criminal, Troy,” she insisted, forcing herself to her feet and steadfastly shoving aside the doubts in her mind.
    “Just a victim.” His lips pursed in repressed anger. “Always a victim. Jesus!”
    “I knew I shouldn’t have called you,” she spat.
    “Why did you?”
    She reached for a bottle of water in the refrigerator and twisted off the cap. “The police didn’t want me to be left alone.”
    “So you called your brother?”
    “You were the closest.” Sometimes Troy was a royal pain, but then weren’t all of her siblings? She’d known it had been a mistake the minute she’d dialed his office. She took a long pull on the water. “Let’s just get this straight. It wasn’t because you’re a male, okay?”
    “Listen, Caitlyn—”
    Her free hand flew up to the side of her head and she spread her fingers as if ready to ward off a blow. “Never mind, strike that. I wanted to call Kelly—”
    “Kelly? Oh, for God’s sake, Caitlyn. Let’s not even go there!”
    “But—” She knew she’d made a mistake the minute she’d brought up her twin.
    “That would be just plain crazy and you know it!” His dark brows drew together. “Oh, I get it! You’re already looking for an insanity defense. Kelly.” He clucked his tongue.
    “Stop it! I’m not guilty. I’m not insane. And . . . and . . . Josh is dead,” she added, her voice cracking. “He was a bastard, okay, I know it, but . . . there was a time when I did love him.” She felt her cheeks flame at her admission. “He was my husband. Jamie’s father.”
    “Who only wanted you for your inheritance.”
    The words spilled over her like icy rain. As ugly as it was, it was the truth. Oscar let out a low whimper from his hiding