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

He kissed the top of his mother’s head. ‘I’m sorry. I know it must have been awful for you.’

Cab didn’t push her for answers, because Tarla wasn’t a person who could be pushed. If you poked her, she shrank like a turtle deeper into her shell. He also knew that his old axiom was right again. You could learn more from lies than you ever could from the truth.

Tarla was lying.

There was something about that night that she didn’t want him to know.

5

The deer sprang out of nowhere, like a monster from the closet. It wasn’t there, and then it was.

Peach gasped in surprise, and her foot dove for the brake. The Thunderbird jerked to a stop, throwing her against the safety belt. The young doe, momentarily frozen, stared curiously into the car’s headlights, and when Peach switched the lights off, she saw its spindly legs clip-clop casually between the trees toward the lake.

See the little white cross? she’d told Justin on their weekend getaway to Lake Wales last month. You have to be careful when you drive here.

Peach closed her eyes.

When she touched her hands to her face, she realized she was crying. She pushed open the car door and climbed out into the darkness, her knees buckling. She grabbed the door to steady herself, then took uneasy steps into the grass. Insects descended on her, buzzing and biting. She looked around for the deer, but it had already disappeared toward the water. Her feet were wet. She imagined for a moment that she was standing in blood, but when she looked down at the dirt and pine needles, she saw that it was just rain pooled on the ground from an afternoon squall.

Peach was alone on the sprawling trails of Lake Seminole Park. She and Deacon lived in a pink bungalow on 98th Street in Seminole, which was a straight shot across the Gandy Bridge as she headed west out of Tampa. Their house, where they’d lived for ten years, was on the other side of the fence that marked the park’s eastern border. She wasn’t supposed to be in the park at night, but the security guards all knew who she was. To them, she was Peach Paranoid, but she was also the girl who had lost her parents in Colombia and her oldest brother in the Labor Day shooting. Let her be paranoid. Let her park wherever she wanted.