The Alvarez & Pescoli Series

by Lisa Jackson

  4. You have eight books in the To Die series. Is there one book in the series that’s a particular favorite?

  Boy, that’s a tough one. I always like the one I’m writing or the next one, but I love the way Left To Die and Chosen To Die are connected. I thought the villain(s) were intriguing, the town interesting and the main characters compelling. It was difficult to write the two books and weaving them so closely together, but in the end, I thought it all worthwhile. Besides, I got to introduce the characters and the kooks in the town in the first books! Other novels in the series that are favorites are Expecting To Die when Pescoli is pregnant and her teenage daughter, Bianca, grows up a bit and Willing To Die, which wraps up some story lines that had been left dangling in the series.

  5. Willing To Die, the eighth book in the series, came out earlier this year. Is that the last book in the series or will there be more?

  I’m hoping to write at least one more, maybe two. As I mentioned, in Willing To Die I was able to tie up a lot of loose ends from previous story lines, so I feel the series is pretty much complete … except I do want to know more about Alvarez’s past and Pescoli’s future. I think those two women have more stories to tell. I’m actually toying with an idea that would encompass some of the places where I’ve set books such as San Francisco, California, Savannah, Georgia and New Orleans, Louisiana–a mystery involving some of the characters I’ve introduced in other series. The who-dun-it would ultimately be solved in Grizzly Falls, but during the course of the novel we’d see some old friends … maybe. It’s just a germ of plot now, but it could be fun!

  6. When Left To Die was originally published, some fans were a little bit upset. They felt that you had left a sub-plot unresolved, but that wasn’t the case, was it? Wasn’t that sub-plot a totally separate storyline that was meant to set up the second book in the series, Chosen To Die?

  Yes, yes! Oh, did I get letters! But it wasn’t so much that the plot line was unresolved that upset the readers as much as the fact that the books did not come out within a few months of each other, so they were left hanging for over a year. Most of the comments I received were focused on the fact that the books were spaced so far apart–my fault completely. Now, hopefully, I get it and won’t make that mistake again!

  7. You’ve written a number of series: the New Orleans series, the Savannah series, as well as the Cahill series, which consists of If She Only Knew, your first New York Times bestseller, and Almost Dead. I’ve heard that there’s a new Cahill novel coming out in 2020. Can you tell us a little bit about it?

  Of course! The new book, You Betrayed Me, involves James Cahill who was just an infant in the first book, If She Only Knew. He’s now all grown up, in his twenties, handsome as all get out, a ladies’ man, who admits his downfall is women. As the book opens he wakes up in a hospital and finds out his girlfriend is missing. He’s injured from a very physical fight and the police are looking at him as a kidnapper or possibly a murderer. He can’t remember what happened, but he knows it involved a woman and it’s bad. He has a temper; has had his share of bar fights … but murder? To complicate things, it turns out Megan was not the only woman in his life. There are others and each one seems to have some secret, private agenda. Is he a villain or a victim? The trouble is, he doesn’t know for certain. He’s only sure that someone is playing him. If you liked If She Only Knew and Almost Dead, the second book in the series, you’ll enjoy You Betrayed Me which will be available in hardcover in July 2020.

  8. What are you currently reading for pleasure right now?

  Right now I’m reading Buried Prey by John Sandford and I’m really enjoying it. I’ve followed Lucas Davenport, the hero of the book for a long time. I just finished Holy Ghost another Sanford novel, this one featuring Virgil Flowers whom I adore. Both books are excellent. Also, I’ve got another Michael Connelly book, The Late Show in my “To Be Read” stack. I love Connelly’s books and my sister, author Nancy Bush recommended it. Finally I’m also going to get into The Soul of an Octopus by Sy Montgomery which I received as a gift and I’m told is great.

  9. Anything else you’d like to tell your readers?

  Yes! For all of you waiting for the next novel set in New Orleans featuring Detectives Montoya and Bentz, be assured the book is in the works. As yet untitled, the idea for the book has been approved and, after I write it, will probably be available in 2021. I’ll keep you all posted. Thanks for your patience. Also, I have another joint novel, written with my sister, Nancy Bush that will be available in June 2020. Last Girl Standing is a thriller that I think you’ll like. You can find out the latest info on all my books at www.lisajackson.com or by following me on facebook and twitter. I’ll look for you!

  From #1 New York Times bestselling author Lisa Jackson comes a new novel of nerve-jangling suspense as a woman haunted by guilt realizes that nothing can be trusted—not even her own memory …

  There are people in Edgewater, Oregon, who think that twenty years ago, Rachel Gaston got away with murder.

  Rachel still has no idea how a foolish teenaged game turned deadly—or who replaced the soft pellet air gun she thought she was using with a real weapon. When a figure leapt out at her from the darkness of the old fish processing plant, she fired without thinking. Too late, she recognized her half-brother, Luke, and saw the blood blooming around his chest.

  Despite counseling, Rachel’s horrifying dreams about that night have never stopped. In a small town like Edgewater, it’s impossible to escape the past, or avoid rumors and gossip. Busy raising two teens after her divorce from detective Cade Ryder, she’d rather not attend her upcoming high school reunion, though she agrees to help track down alums for the gathering. But as Rachel confronts old memories, she feels her imagination playing tricks on her, convincing her that objects in her house have moved. That there’s a hint of unfamiliar cologne in the air. That someone is tailing her car. Watching her home.

  Cade knows his ex is highly strung. Rachel’s anxiety played a part in their split, though Cade takes his share of the blame too. Yet maybe this time, she’s right to be scared. And as connections surface between a new string of murders and Luke’s death, Rachel realizes that the truth is darker than her worst fears …

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of Lisa Jackson’s

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  Now

  Patient: “I see him. I see Luke. He’s … he’s alive and he’s smiling. He says— oh, God—he says, “I forgive you.”

  Therapist: “Where is he?”

  Patient: “In the warehouse, I mean fish cannery … the abandoned one on the waterfront, built on piers over the river.”

  Therapist: “I know the one you mean. You’ve told me about it before.”

  Patient: “But it’s been condemned. For a long time.”

  Therapist: “I know. Is anyone else there?”

  Patient: “Yes. Oh yes. We are all there. The ones who were there on the night … on the night Luke died.”

  Therapist: “The night you were playing the game?”

  Patient, frowning, voice a whisper. “Yes … it was supposed to be a game. We had those pretend guns. Trying to shoot each other.”

  “Your friends?”

  A deeper frown as the patient’s head moves side to side. “No. Not all friends. Others were there.”

  “You saw them?”

  “It was too dark. But they were there.”

  “And now? They’re back?”

  Patient, swallowing hard: “I don’t know. But I think so. It’s so dark.”

  “But you’re certain you’re in the cannery.”

  “Yes. Yes! I hear the river running beneath the floor–smell it— and I hear voices of the other kids but not what they’re saying. It’s too noisy. All those clicking guns and pounding footsteps.”

  “But you see Luke?”

  “Yes!” The patient’s lips twist into a fleeting smile. “Oh, my God! He’s
… He’s alive!”

  Therapist: “You’re talking to him?”

  “Yes. I told you.” The patient pauses. The smile fades. “But it’s hard to hear him. Other kids are talking, and laughing, some of the guns are going off and echoing. The building is so big. So dark. So …”

  “So, what?”

  The patient becomes sober, almost frightened and hesitates before whispering, “Evil. It’s like … it’s like there’s something else in that old building. Something hiding in the darkness.” The patient’s voice begins to tremble. “Something … malicious.” Then the panic sets in. As it always does. “Oh, God.” The patient’s tone is suddenly frantic. “I–we–have to get out. We have to leave. Now! We have to get out. We have to!”

  “It’s time.” Therapist, calmly: “You’re rising. Getting out of the cannery. Leaving the building and the evil far behind you.”

  “But Luke! No! I can’t abandon him. Oh, my God. He’s been shot! He’s bleeding! I have to save him!”

  Therapist: “You are becoming more aware.”

  “No! No! No! I can’t leave him. I have to help!” The patient is in a full-blown panic. “Someone! Help!”

  “You must surface now. Leave this place for the time being. You are leaving the building. You must save yourself.” The therapist is insistent, in control. “On my count.”

  Patient, frantic: “Yes! Okay. But … but I have to hurry! And bring Luke—”

  Therapist: “Three. And you’re leaving the cannery and the past behind.”

  “If I leave Luke, he’ll die. All over again. I can’t—”

  Therapist, firmly: “Two. And you’re nearly awake.”

  Patient: “I–I need to talk to him. To explain.” But the patient is acquiescing.

  Therapist: “One.”

  The patient’s eyes open to the small, dimly lit room that smells faintly of jasmine. Lying in the recliner staring at the ceiling, the patient’s breathing returns to normal. Calm restored, the patient meets the therapist’s eyes.

  Smiling benignly, the therapist says softly, “And you’re back.”

  Prologue

  20 years ago

  Midnight

  Edgewater, Oregon

  Are you out of your frickin’ mind?

  The nagging voice in Rachel’s brain chased after her as she ran through the dry weeds that had sprouted through decades old asphalt. The night was dark, just a sliver of the moon visible, its pale light a dim glow that came and went in the undulating clouds overhead. Soon the clouds would settle and sprawl over the river, fog oozing and crawling through the forgotten piers and pilings to encase this abandoned building and move inland to cover the town. Through the thin mist only one dim security light offered any sort of illumination. and she tripped twice before reaching the mesh fence surrounding the abandoned fish cannery.

  You can’t do this, Rachel. Really. Think about it. Your dad’s a cop. A damned detective. Stop!

  She didn’t. Instead she slipped through a hole in the fence, her backpack catching on a jagged piece of wiring and ripping as she pressed forward, following her friend. Well, at least her once-upon-a-time friend. Now Rachel wasn’t so sure. Petite, vibrant Lila was more interested in Rachel’s older brother, Luke, than she was in Rachel.

  “Hurry up!” Lila called over her shoulder from twenty yards ahead. Her blond hair reflected the weak light as she ran along the bridge, a narrow, crumbling roadway built on piers over the water.

  Rachel sped up, following.

  As she had forever it seemed. Lila always came up with the plans and Rachel went along.

  “I don’t know why you do it,” Luke had said about six months ago while driving home from school, Rachel riding shotgun. “It’s like you’re some kind of lap dog, y’know, a puppy following her around.” He’d slid a glance her way, his blue eyes knowing.

  “I am not,” she’d argued, glancing out the window at the gray Oregon day, rain drizzling down the glass, but she’d felt the little sting of it, the truth to it. Luke had been right, though she’d hated to admit it.

  Now, the tables had turned as he and Lila had become a “thing.” Which was probably worse.

  “Rach! Come on!” Lila now called over her shoulder. “We’re already late!”

  “Yeah, to our own funeral.”

  “Wha–oh, shut up!” Lila waved off Rachel’s reticence and kept moving. According to Rachel’s mother, Lila was a good girl gone bad, one who went through boyfriends faster than most people used up a roll of paper towels. “She’s too smart and pretty for her own good. Always looking for trouble, that one,” Melinda Gaston had warned on more than one occasion. “She’s the kind of girl who sees what she wants and goes for it, no matter who she steps on in the process.”

  Most likely true. No, absolutely true.

  “Come on!”

  Rachel sped up, following the faint light of the reflective strips on the back of Lila’s running shoes. Following. Ever following. A problem. She’d work on that, but not tonight.

  The brackish smell of the river was thick as Rachel caught up with her friend at the largest of the buildings, a hulking barn-like structure built on now-rotting pilings. It rose dark and daunting, a huge, decrepit edifice that had been condemned years before.

  “Great.” Lila’s tone was one of disgust. “Everyone else is already here.”

  “How do you know?” Rachel spoke in hushed tones, afraid that someone might hear her. She glanced around the empty pock-marked lot surrounding the long-vacant buildings, but saw no one. Still the back of her neck prickled in apprehension.

  “I just do, okay?” A pause. “Listen … Hear that?”

  Sounds emanated through the ancient wooden walls. Muted voices, running footsteps, even a staccato Pop! Pop! Pop! Not like real gun fire. Just loud clicks.

  Air guns.

  Safe.

  Still. It made her nervous. Rachel’s stomach was in knots.

  Another burst from an automatic.

  Heart pounding, Rachel watched as Lila unzipped her own pack and pulled out a pistol, one that glinted in the bluish glare from the thin light of the single security lamp.

  Rachel swallowed hard. Though she knew Lila’s gun was just a replica that shot pellets, not bullets, it looked real. As did her own.

  “I don’t know—”

  “What? You’re going to wuss out now?” Lila said, unable to hide her disapproval. “After all your talk about wanting to do something ‘outside the box,’ something that would shock your mom and dad?”

  “No, but—”

  “Sure.” Lila wasn’t buying it. “Fine. Do what you want. You always do anyway. But I need to talk to Luke.”

  “Here?”

  “Wherever.”

  Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

  “What the hell is that?” Rachel demanded at the loud, quick-fire reports. “A real gun?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Then what?”

  “Shit. It could be Moretti. Nate said he and Max were going to bring fire crackers to you know, make the game more ‘real’. Like it’s not scary enough.”

  “What?”

  “I know. Crazy, right?” Lila seemed undeterred. “Nate’s such a dweeb! Never knows when to dial it back. He even has one of those things that make the gun sound louder and spark, y’know.”

  This was sounding worse by the minute. She knew Nate. The son of a doctor, he was Luke’s best friend even though they had been in different classes in high school. “I think we should forget this—”

  “I can’t. I have to see Luke.” Before Rachel could come up with any further arguments, Lila had slipped through the narrow gap where the huge barn door hung open. Stomach churning, Rachel followed after.

  Inside, the cavernous building was even eerier. Maybe it was her own mind playing tricks on her, but Rachel thought she smelled the remains of ancient fish guts and scales that had been stripped from the catch and dropped through open chutes in the floor to splash
into the water below where waiting harbor seals, sea lions, seagulls and other scavengers snatched the bloody carcases.

  All in your mind. Remember that. This place has been abandoned for years.

  That thought didn’t calm her jangling nerves.

  Just inside, Rachel paused at the door, getting her bearings. What no one else knew, not even Lila, was that she’d been here earlier, in the fading summer daylight, scoping out the interior to give herself a bit of an advantage. She had tried to embed in her mind a map of the hazards, the treacherous holes in the floor, the stacks of rusted barrels, the ladders and pulleys. Though she couldn’t see anyone, she heard the others. Whispered conversation, footsteps scurrying along the ancient floor. The thud of feet climbing a metal ladder or shuffling across a catwalk overhead. The noises were barely audible over the wild beating of her heart.

  These were her friends, she reminded herself, some kids she went to school with, others recent grads. Nothing to worry about—

  Click! Click! Click, click, click!

  A pellet gun went off behind her, firing rapidly. Missiles flying past her.

  She flinched. Whipped around. Her hair flew over her eyes as she raised her pistol to aim at … nothing. Son of a bitch! Squinting, heart hammering, she thought she saw a shadow moving near the partially open door. Maybe … Her throat tightened and she aimed. But then again … maybe not. Her finger paused over the trigger. A bead of sweat ran down her face.

  Could she really do it? Shoot the pistol at a person? After all the warnings and admonitions from her parents? Heart clamoring, sweat oozing out of her pores, she swallowed against a desert dry throat. This was crazy. Nuts!

  Rachel lowered her gun. “Lila, I don’t think—” she started, her voice barely audible over scurrying feet and other whispers. But Lila had disappeared. Of course. Running after Luke.

  She inched around the wall, remembering the central staircase, the catwalks overhead, the high rafters near a ceiling that rose, cathedral-like above the remaining conveyor belts. Beneath the belts were a series of huge holes in the floor where the chutes, once covered, were now open.