Jenny is different. She can read people’s minds.
At age seventeen, 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 has come to set things right.
Nothing will stand in her way. She’ll come up close with evil again
and face the ultimate choice—kill or be killed in these ACCELERATING
CIRCUMSTANCES.
Excerpt:
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, seeing
nothing. The house got busy around her, people walking in and out. Lots
of talking, lots of work.
Someone asked her if she needed anything. She said no. They told her to stay right there, and she did.
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’ve contacted
your dad. It will be a few hours before he can get here. May we 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, but she wanted to cooperate.
She needed to think about anything other than the horror in the room
upstairs. What did Detective Evans ask, 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. She couldn’t keep her thoughts from all the blood she’d seen. Then: “Mom’s dead, isn’t she?”
The detectives gave each other a look 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. The murder weapon was a knife from your kitchen. 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. You guys had an argument of some sort, 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.
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