BooksBarbecue
Back Season of Fear
Chapters (67)
  1. Contents
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART ONETHE EXTREMES
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. PART TWOSOMETHING BAD
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. PART THREECHAYLA
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. PART FOURHIT AND RUN
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. EPILOGUE
  67. AUTHOR’S NOTE

Peach aimed away from Annalie’s head, and she jerked on the trigger, too quickly, too heavily. The gun fired wildly into the floor, and the recoil forced her arm back and nearly made her fall. She cringed with the violence of the explosion. The bullet blew up splinters from the floorboard. Annalie’s head rocked in agony as the shock waves cracked in her skull.

Peach knelt over Annalie, a knee on her chest. She held her tightly down.

‘I’ll do it,’ she vowed. ‘I will. I don’t care.’

Annalie’s breath stuttered. Her eyes blinked into narrow slits. The world had to be spinning, a hurricane of noise and light, but Annalie’s mouth moved soundlessly, and a choked word gasped from her throat.

‘Peach.’

Peach screamed at her again. ‘You killed Justin! You bitch, you killed him! Did you kill Deacon, too? Are you the one?’

‘Peach,’ Annalie repeated, unable to say anything more.

‘It was you!’ Peach shouted. She couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t think about right and wrong. The words bubbled out with spit and foam. ‘It was you, it was you, it was you, it was you!’

Annalie tried to talk again, but Peach shoved the gun into the woman’s open mouth. Between her red lips and her perfect teeth.

‘This is what you did to Justin! You blew his head off, and that’s what I’m going to do you!’

She slid her finger over the trigger. Nothing made sense anymore. Not the past. Not the future. There was only right now, her and Annalie and the gun. There was nothing in her world but the rain and the heat of this moment. Pull the trigger, and she was dead, and Justin was avenged, and maybe, maybe, she could have peace after everyone she had lost.

Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger.

She began to feel the pressure on her skin. The trigger pushed back at her finger. They did a little dance together. Finger and trigger. Pull. Pull. Pull.

That was when music interrupted her. Wildly improbable music. Gloria Estefan sang ‘The Rhythm is Gonna Get You.’

Annalie’s phone was ringing.

46

Cab sat at a multi-station weight machine in the fitness room at the Tampa Yacht Club. His trench coat and suit coat hung from a lat bar. His leather shoes were a lost cause. The club still had electrical power, and several flat-screen televisions in the empty room were tuned to CNN. He saw live reports of the ferocious surf hitting the Gulf near Clearwater. He wondered where his mother was and where Lala was.

He checked his phone. Fifteen minutes had passed. Ramona Cortes still hadn’t arrived.