I’d experienced them before after returning home, but had thought it was simply from being in the location where my parents had lost their lives. As I stopped and took a deep breath, my skin began to crawl. The sensations weren’t just about the creepy-crawlies, but as if someone was standing right behind me and I could feel the scalding heat of their whispered breath.
With slow and steady movements, I turned around, holding my breath the entire time. With the floodlight on the side of the house working, a stark beam drifted about thirty feet away.
Toward the corral and the horses.
Toward the working barn.
Toward the veterinary clinic.
And toward the burned-out hull where…
A cold, intense shiver tore through me. I could swear someone was out there. Watching.
Waiting.
Preparing.
No. No. No.
I backed away a few steps before turning and bolting toward the front door, jumping on the porch with a giant leap. Ellie May didn’t have any time to react before I was inside, and had slammed and locked the door.
She whimpered first before lunging like a horse toward me. This time, I was glad her heavy body pitched me to the door.
“Oh, girl. Thank God you’re here.” Visions and memories flooded my mind as soon as I closed my eyes. Every time it happened, I cried. I’d be damned if I was going to do that this time.
Not a chance.
With a hard suck of my breath, I nodded toward the kitchen. Time for her kibble and my wine.
Five minutes later, the huge wineglass was in one hand, a bowl of ice cream in the other, and I was headed toward the family room, where I’d used my mama’s quilt to keep from freezing to death. I’d wanted to work on a few paintings tonight, but I just wasn’t in the mood. I hadn’t experienced a good cry in almost a week. Maybe I was overdue.
Painting pictures of animals usually soothed me. Maybe tomorrow.
After I had everything settled, the television remote in my hand, the fireplace caught my eye. I had no idea why. Since I’d returned and after the initial walk through where I’d cried the entire time, I rarely noticed the pictures that would end up stored in a box for when I had children. What was I saying? Children? Me? Not a chance.
You’d need a man for that.
Yet something drew me to the various frames collected over the years, a little hobby my mother had. Everywhere they went, she purchased a frame, which commemorated the trip forever. I scanned the line of them, the same tightness in my chest I’d experienced one too many times threatening to suffocate me.
One picture caught my eye. It was of the three of us. The last vacation I’d gone on with them. Another set of beautiful memories skipped through my mind. With a shaking hand, I lifted the picture with such delicacy as if fearing it would break. My heart was heavy, a light fog drifting across my brain and as I traced my mother’s face, a single tear slipped past my lashes.
My mother’s face was pensive, her eyes pinned on whoever was taking the photograph.
I hadn’t noticed before, but she seemed afraid. I’d thought it was about the trip. That had been the Christmas I’d come home from college and we’d taken a cruise. We’d had a great time. Hadn’t we?
Another series of icy sensations crawled through me.
Why did it seem as if she was trying to tell me something?
And had that something led to my parents’ murders?
CHAPTER 3
Viper
Jesus. H. Fucking. Christ.
I jammed my foot onto the brake, the back of the truck immediately swerving from the shitty tires purchased with the heap of junk. With a death grip on the steering wheel, I kept my eyes pinned on the creature standing in the middle of the road. The beast was fucking determined to ruin my damn day.
