Chapter Sixty-Five Savannah
| Sixty-Five |
Savannah
“We have to go to the police,” Savannah said, looking at Isabel.
“How could I have been so wrong about him?” Tears sprang to her eyes.
If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that her initial infatuation with Bennett had as much to do with him as a person as his status as an author and what he could do for her career.
But she had fallen for him very quickly, taken in by his charm and charisma.
She had come to believe that Bennett was her true love, the person she was going to spend the rest of her life with.
And instead, she had married a monster who had killed at least three women.
The other phone had turned out to be Angela’s.
Her screen saver was a photo of her and Bennett.
So he had sent those texts himself and then killed them.
And Savannah would have been next. She flashed back to that day when his hands squeezed her neck.
She was going to be sick. She jumped up and ran into the bathroom.
Sweat broke out on her forehead as she lifted the toilet seat and vomited.
“Are you okay?” Isabel asked from outside.
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
She stood on shaky legs and turned on the cold water, splashing her face. When she opened the door, Isabel was standing there.
Isabel gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry, Savannah.” She took her hand. “You don’t look good. Why don’t you come stay with me for a few days?”
They went upstairs to the bedroom and Savannah sat down on the bed.
Isabel walked to the closet and pulled out a suitcase. “Shall I just throw some things in here?”
Savannah nodded. “Should we call the police now?” Savannah asked, her voice shaking.
“I think we have enough evidence,” Isabel said, her eyes narrowing.
“He had me fooled for all these years. It kills me to say it, but he’s a sociopath.
” She began to pull on her necklace, drawing Savannah’s attention to it.
Gold add-a-beads. With one pink bead in the middle.
Just like the ones Devon and her mother were wearing in the photo Savannah had seen at her father’s house.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from it.
She looked up and realized Isabel was staring at her. They locked eyes. Isabel’s hand dropped from her neck.
“It’s a pretty necklace,” Savannah said. Maybe Bennett had given it to Isabel after he killed Devon.
“Thanks. Had it forever.”
Relief and horror hit her at the same time. Bennett wasn’t the killer.