Jenny is different. She can read people’s minds.
Seventeen years ago, Jenny Reid was arrested for killing her own mother. There was no evidence that an intruder entered the house. No one believed her as a teenager when she tried to tell them how she felt the killer’s rage saturated within the walls, that she knew the presence of evil had been there. The police thought she was crazy, not psychic.
A conviction was never made in the case due to lack of evidence. Jenny is still the sole suspect, but now, she is doing something about it. She’s on the right side of the law, an FBI agent determined to finally find justice for her mom.
Two men stay by her side — William, her partner, a darkly intense agent with a scary past and Nate, a bad boy with too much charisma to be a good thing. But, no man will keep her from finding out the truth about her mom.
The time is now to set things right.
Nothing will stand in her way. She’ll come face to face with evil again and face the ultimate choice—kill or be killed in these ACCELERATING CIRCUMSTANCES.
Excerpt:
Prologue
11 Years Ago
Charlottesville, Virginia
A tear squeezed from her tightly closed eyes, and she hugged her pillow close for comfort in her sleep. A whimper escaped from her, but she didn’t wake up from the nightmare, where within, she felt like she was going to die—
Jenny’s alarm sounded at 7 AM. She smacked the snooze button. What seemed like mere seconds later, the buzzing sounded again. With a groan, she hit the snooze a second time. Two more snoozes went by before she got up to get ready for school.
Her brain felt like it was in a coma from the sleeping pill she’d taken last night. She hadn’t been able to sleep, yet again, so she’d gotten on the Internet and goofed off. Around 3 AM, the pills finally forced her eyes shut, and she’d gone into an empty, dead-like sleep, or thought she had. She didn’t remember dreaming.
She was sure she was the only seventeen-year-old with a prescription for sleeping pills, for real. And she was the only person on the planet she knew with her “gift.” It was more like a curse. Her parents made her promise not to tell anyone about it, not even her own sister, Nicole.
Mom and Dad were embarrassed by her. She didn’t need them to admit it because knowing how people felt was her “gift,” or her burden. She cringed at words like psychic or empathic. There just wasn’t a word to fully describe what she could do.
Jenny exhaustedly dragged her feet out of her rose colored bedroom down the stairs and into the kitchen. She didn’t want to go to school. She hated school! Too bad her parents wouldn’t let her skip class, she thought.
She needed coffee and a shower in that order, she decided. Or maybe she should go for an energy drink instead. Which had more caffeine? Well, it didn’t matter. She would do coffee first, then the energy drink as she drove.
It wasn’t until she started a pot of coffee that it occurred to her that her mom was mysteriously absent. An envelope sat on the table with her name on it, but the handwriting wasn’t her mom’s. It was her dad’s. Her allowance most likely, she thought. Like always, her dad was out of town on business, but at least she always got something out of him. $50 a week was the going rate for an absentee father. Not bad, huh?
Jenny’s sister was off at college. Most of the time, it was just Mom and her. So, where was Mom? She always got up early.
Jenny blinked hard several times, trying to clear the fog from her head. If she didn’t get her act together, she was going to be late. Like it mattered. Big freaking deal. It was just school.
The house was too quiet. Beyond the trickling of the brewing coffee, there was no sound, nothing. Either her mom was still asleep or she was gone. But there was no note on the table. Mom always left a note if she was going somewhere.
“Mom! You getting up or what?” Jenny yelled.
No response came.
Jenny groaned loudly. The coffee wasn’t ready yet. She climbed the steps, stomping to announce her frustration at having to go back upstairs without her coffee, or breakfast. She was hungry.
“Mom!”
How irritating that her mom wasn’t answering. She was the daughter, not the parent. She wasn’t supposed to have to wake up her mom. Jeez.
She burst through the bedroom door. “Mom—“
Jenny froze, the word on her lips fading into a quiver.
Blood was everywhere—a large puddle on the bed, splatters on the walls, curtains, ceiling, floor—everywhere. Jenny didn’t see her mom.
She felt like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. She didn’t want to comprehend what she saw. This couldn’t be happening! This is not real. It can’t be real!
Where was Mom?
A scream so shrill and loud that it bordered nonhuman filled the house. Jenny realized it had come from her. She choked the sound away, a tremble spreading through her from head to toe.
“No, no, no! Mom! Mom!”
She needed to call for help! She turned around unsteadily, panic causing her to lose control, and her hand brushed against the door jam. A tingling feeling was her only warning that the sensations were coming through her medicated head.
No images came this time. Just thoughts, senses and feelings.
Jenny felt rage, but it wasn’t her own. The emotion was so strong that it momentarily brought her to her knees. She heard weeping. Heat rose within, burning her eyes. She felt her nostrils flare. The feelings were aimed at her mom. How could someone hate Mom so much?
It was too much for her. She felt sick. She forced herself back to her feet and forward, ran down the steps and to the phone.
The rage faded, dissipating to a memory. Her tears calmed, turning into slow trickles down her cheeks. Shock and total numbness took over.
She didn’t remember telling the operator that she needed help, but she must have because the 9-1-1 dispatcher told her she needed to stay on the line until help arrived. Time held no meaning. People arrived, whether minutes or hours later, she had no idea.
Jenny placed the phone back on the receiver and physically dropped. The sofa was behind her and caught her, but she would have sat whether there was furniture there or not. She stared blankly at the wall, just blank. The house got busy around her, people walking in and out. Lots of talking, lots of work.
Jenny didn’t call anyone else—not her dad, not her sister, no one. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. It felt like the room was closing in on her.
Her mom was dead. She hadn’t seen a body, but she knew. She knew.
Two men detached from the hustle and bustle to walk up to her. “My name is Detective Evans. My partner is Detective Crouse. We need to ask you some questions.”
Jenny tried to focus. The detective that spoke was older with a deep receding hairline and clear piercing eyes. The other was an average middle-aged man that looked bored with his job. Both men stared at her.
She didn’t know what they were thinking or feeling. Her gift was strongest with touch. Regardless, it wouldn’t work now anyway. She couldn’t focus! She couldn’t think!
“Okay,” she said, her voice deadpan.
“Do you get along with your parents?” Detective Evans asked as he took a seat beside her.
“I guess.”
“The neighbors didn’t seem to think so,” he commented.
Too numb, too distanced right then, she didn’t immediately realize where the detective’s question was leading. She readily jumped at any chance to project her thoughts away from her mom to answering Detective Evans, or she tried. What was the question, again? How she got along with Mom and Dad?
How could she possibly explain her situation? Most teenagers just thought their parents didn’t understand them. Well, Jenny really knew for a fact that they didn’t.
“Your sister is at school, and your dad is away on business, right?” Detective Evans continued.
“Yeah.”
“What happened here last night?”
“I don’t know. I was sleeping,” she said, still deadpan. This can’t be real. Then: “Mom’s dead, isn’t she?”
The detectives gave each other a look that she didn’t understand.
She sniffed, feeling another round of sobs bursting to the surface. The house suddenly felt too small, too stifling, choking her with its intensity. Why didn’t anyone understand? A cry exploded from her, and she blurted it all out in such a rush that later, she wouldn’t remember saying anything at all. “There’s so much hate! Can’t you feel it? Don’t you see? No one could hate her so much!”
Detective Evans cleared his throat.
“Is that why you hurt your mom? You hate her?” Detective Crouse suddenly asked, his voice stern. He no longer looked bored.
Jenny should have been stunned by the question, but she was in shock. She said nothing. Her eyes fell to her lap as she continued to cry.
“Answer the question,” Evans demanded.
“I didn’t hurt her,” she managed between sobs.
“We know that’s not possible,” Evans said. “There’s no sign of forced entry. Come on, Jenny. You didn’t plan this out very well. You really want us to believe you slept through that mess upstairs? You’re covered in blood. There are bloody footprints all over the place. Your footprints. You hated her, like you said, so you got rid of her.” He stood and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Stand up. You are under arrest for the murder of Savannah Rice.”
As she was recited her rights and handcuffed, Jenny looked at her feet. He was right, she realized. She had blood all over her.
The room blurred around her, and she fainted.
Posts
