by Nancy Bush
“Sounds like Jackie was injured.” Sam didn’t add that he thought it highly likely they would not be finding Jackie alive and well.
“And get this,” Griff added. “That same license plate on a Honda Civic was seen in Portland. A witness called it in because she saw a man and woman getting it on inside the car like their lives depended on it. The car was parked in a lot not too far from where a homicide had taken place, that of a transvestite named Monique, who was strangled to death in a back alley. Portland PD ran the plate and realized it had been stolen from a car registered to a Seaside resident. They’ve been working on the assumption that the killer or killers probably lived at the coast, and now we think the couple was Stuart and Jackie.”
“Why did they kill Monique?” Jules burst out. “Was she involved in the Cardaman mess, too?”
“Actually, detectives around here think Stuart and Jackie were thrill-killers. We’re going over past cases now. They apparently killed for money, too, but . . . it looks like they killed for pleasure.”
They talked a bit more about the aspects of the case, then Sam clicked off and looked at Jules. She reflected for a moment, then said, “My dad hired them to kill Joe. He knew what they were and he hired them. I won’t feel completely safe until they find Jackie.” When Sam didn’t immediately respond, she said, “You think she’s already dead, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?”
“Because you’ve run up against pure evil. A quirk in a person’s DNA. A soul-deep illness. Call it what you will. It’s dangerous, and deadly. And I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”
She actually laughed. “Thank you. And yes, don’t let me out of your sight.”
“Except I have to leave you to go down to the Sheriff’s Department. But I won’t be gone long.”
“Okay. And I’ve got Georgie and the kids.”
“The kids?” Sam asked.
“That’s what Georgie calls the German shepherds. She said it’s what Bette always called Less and More . . . the kids.”
* * *
She drove into the outskirts of Portland, negotiating the traffic. She had only the basics of her belongings: a suitcase of clothes, some personal items, a stash of cold, hard cash.... She would have to pick up another gun, since hers had not been returned to her yet by the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department. When he’d interviewed her, that detective, Langdon Stone, had looked her over hard. She’d felt the heat right in the core of her sex, even though he’d been regarding her with suspicion, not lust. She’d had to give a five-star, Oscar-winning performance to make them believe she’d killed P. J. to save Julia. Like she cared about that doe-eyed bitch. She’d had to kill “the man” to permanently shut him up, and luckily, before he met his maker, Stuart had let her know Simpson was planning some kind of “last play” with Julia. She’d been infuriated that Stuart had not killed Julia from the get-go, had wondered if his bungling was more because he wanted to fuck her first, rather than total ineptitude. And then when Stuart called to tell her Simpson had stiffed them, her fury had known no bounds.
She’d about decided to shoot Stuart, had gotten her gun out to do just that, but had cooled off a little by the time the fool pulled into the driveway, then peeled out again after Sam Ford gave him the cold, hard stare. That’s why she’d started screaming. Holy God! She’d been beside herself, knowing Stuart would give her up. Crazed with fear.
But then . . . “the man” had shown up right on cue. Better than she could have planned it. She’d had the gun out and loaded. She’d let the dogs out, just in case she needed help, but hadn’t needed them. The old fool had stumbled to his feet and started menacingly toward Julia and she’d blasted him. Pow. Pow. Pow. Done! She’d been ready to kill Julia, too, but Georgie was there and the dogs ran to her and . . . well, it was a major cluster-fuck. She figured Georgie could have the dogs. They barked like idiots and she didn’t want the responsibility of them in her new life. If she needed a dog for protection, she’d just get a new one. They were disposable in her mind. Stuart was the one who liked them.
Stuart . . . and Jackie. Luckily, all blame for the killings fell on Jackie. Just desserts. The bitch thought she was such a sex kitten. What a laugh. Stuart was just too easy. His tongue was always hanging out over a piece of ass. Just his way.
But Stuart was gone now, too. He couldn’t give her away any longer.
She kissed two of her fingers and raised her hand skyward, looking up to thank him for keeping his damn trap shut. Well, actually, she probably should be looking down, shouldn’t she, since that was definitely the more likely eternity for Stuart’s black soul.
She smiled to herself. She would miss him, a little. That was a fact. Maybe she would prowl around Portland for a while, then move on to Seattle. Or, maybe she’d go the other way, head down to San Francisco, LA, San Diego. Arizona could be nice . . . hot weather, really hot in the summer.... She liked the heat.
She could legally change her name to Bridget and finally become the person she was meant to be.
So many possibilities . . .
New York Times bestselling authors Lisa Jackson, Nancy Bush, and Rosalind Noonan join together in a gripping novel of suspense, as a long-guarded secret plunges three friends into a new nightmare.
No Warning
In the photograph, three teenaged girls splash in the lake on a sweltering summer evening. Shiloh, Kat, and Ruth are unaware of the man who spies on them from the woods. They have no idea how their lives will be changed by the brutal violence that follows—and the vow of secrecy they take.
Can Prepare You
Fifteen years later, Ruth and Shiloh have both returned to Prairie Creek, Wyoming, where Kat is deputy sheriff. Though they’ve tried to leave their shared past behind, each has the feeling that someone is lurking in the shadows. When a local girl vanishes, Kat is convinced there’s a connection to that long ago night. But as the friends unite to find the missing teenager, a killer sends a chilling message.
For A Killer’s Vengeance
He’s still there. And he hasn’t forgotten. For so long he’s made do with other victims, but they can’t compare to the ones who got away. The ones who keep searching for him, blind to the terrifying truth that they are not the hunters, but his prey…
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