Chapters (48)
- MALICE
- Books by Lisa Jackson
- LISA JACKSON
- MALICE
- CONTENTS
- Acknowledgments
- Author’s Note
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- CHAPTER 35
- CHAPTER 36
- CHAPTER 37
- CHAPTER 38
- CHAPTER 39
- EPILOGUE
“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.