Malice. Lisa Jackson

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СКАЧАТЬ froze, her gaze traveling upward to the ceiling. Nothing…and then…a floorboard creaked overhead. The crunch of glass.

      Oh, God, no.

      This time it wasn’t a guess.

      This time she was certain.

      Someone was in the house.

      Someone who didn’t want her to know he was there.

      Someone who wanted to do her harm.

      The smell of cigarette smoke teased at her nostrils again.

      Oh, Jesus. This wasn’t Rick.

      She slid on silent footsteps toward the counter where the knives were kept and slowly slid a long-bladed weapon from its slot. As she did, she thought of all the cases Rick had solved, of all the criminals who had channeled their wrath toward him and his family when they’d been arrested or sentenced. Many of them had vowed to get back at Detective Bentz in the most painful ways possible.

      He’d never told her of the threats, but she’d learned from other cops on the force who had gladly repeated various criminals’ promises to seek revenge.

      And now someone was in the house.

      The back of her throat turned desert dry.

      Holding her breath, she eased into the garage and nearly tripped on the single step when she realized that the garage door was wide open to the driveway, a blatant invitation. One the intruder had accepted.

      She didn’t think twice and slid behind the wheel, where the keys were already in the ignition.

      She twisted on the keys.

      The engine sparked.

      She threw the gear into reverse and gunned it, tearing out of the driveway, nearly hitting the neighbor’s miserable cat and just missing the mailbox.

      She glanced up to the master bedroom window as she crammed the van into drive.

      Her heart froze.

      A dark figure stood behind the panes, a shadow with a cruel, twisted smile.

      “Shit!”

      The light shifted on the blinds and the image was gone—maybe just a figment of her imagination.

      Or was it?

      She didn’t wait to find out, just hit the gas pedal, racing down the street as old Mr. Van Pelt decided to back his ancient tank of a Buick into the street. Jennifer hit the brakes, her tires screeched, and then once past the startled neighbor she floored it.

      “There was no one in the window. You know that,” she tried to convince herself. “No one was there.”

      Driving with one hand, she searched the passenger seat for her purse and cell, which, she now remembered, sat in the bedroom where she’d seen the dark figure.

      “Just your imagination,” she said over and over as she drove out of the subdivision and onto the main highway, melding into the thick traffic. Her heart pounded and her head throbbed. Blood from her hand smeared the steering wheel. She checked her rearview often, searching for a vehicle following her, looking through the sea of cars for one that seemed intent on chasing her down. Metal glinted in the sunlight and she cursed herself for not having her sunglasses with her.

      Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Tons of cars heading east: silver, white, black sedans and sports cars, trucks, and SUVs…at least she thought that was the direction she was going. She wasn’t sure. She hadn’t paid a lot of attention and she was starting to relax, starting to think she’d eluded whoever had been after her. If anyone really had.

      Just another Southern California day. She spied a dark blue SUV coming up fast and her heart jumped, but it sped by, along with a white BMW on its tail.

      She flipped on the radio, tried to steady her nerves, but she was sweating, her finger still bleeding. The miles passed, nothing happened, and she began to breathe easier…really relax. She drifted a bit, nearly sideswiping a guy who hit the horn and flipped her off.

      “Yeah, right, whatever,” she said, but realized she shouldn’t be driving, not in all this traffic in her altered state. At the next exit, she turned off…dear Lord, where was she?…in the country? She didn’t recognize the area, the sparseness of the homes, the stretches of brush and farmland. She was inland somewhere and the Valium had kicked in big-time. Blinking against the sunlight, she looked in her side-view mirror and saw another big blue SUV bearing down on her.

      The same one as before?

      No!

      Couldn’t be.

      She yawned and the Explorer behind her stayed back, following her at a distance on the two-lane road that led into the hills.

      It was time to turn around.

      She was so damned tired.

      The road before her seemed to shift and she blinked. Her eyelids were so heavy. She’d have to slow down and rest, try to clear her head, maybe drink some coffee…

      There was a chance no one had been in the house. Jeez—God, the way she was imagining things, the way her nerves were strung tight these days, the way guilt was eating at her, she was probably letting her mind play tricks on her. Her thoughts swirled and gnawed at her.

      She saw the curve in the road and she braked. As she did, she noticed the dark Explorer riding her ass.

      “So pass, you idiot,” she said, distracted, her eyes on the rearview mirror. The rig’s windows were tinted and dark, but she caught a glimpse of the driver.

      Oh, God.

      Her heart nearly stopped.

      The driver stared straight at her. She bit back a scream. It was the same intruder she’d seen in the upstairs window of her house.

      Scared out of her wits, she tromped on the accelerator.

      Who the hell was it?

      Why was whoever it was following her?

      She saw the corner and cut it, hoping to lose the SUV, but her judgment was off and one of the van’s tires caught on the shoulder, hitting gravel. She yanked on the wheel, trying to wrestle the car onto the road, but the van began to spin.

      Wildly.

      Crazily.

      Totally out of control.

      The van shuddered. Skidded.

      And then began to roll.

      In slow-motion certainty, Jennifer knew she was going to die.

      More than that, she knew she was being murdered.

      Probably set up by her damned ex-husband, Rick Bentz.

      CHAPTER 1

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