Twice Kissed. Lisa Jackson
Читать онлайн книгу.
tion>
STILL MISSING
The phone rang and Maggie snagged the receiver, half-expecting to hear from her daughter. Instead, it was Detective Henderson.
“Sorry to be calling so late, but I thought you’d want to know,” he said, and Maggie experienced the cold fingers of dread crawling up her spine. Her hand clenched the receiver in a tight grip. “It’s about your sister.”
“What?”
“Well, we’re starting to think that your sister’s Jeep might have been forced off the road.”
“What do you mean?” she whispered, questions rushing through her head. “Are you saying someone intentionally tried to kill her?”
“Don’t know for sure. Could be. Could have just been an accident or road rage or, yes, it could be someone who wanted to harm her.”
“Dear God.” Maggie’s soul turned to ice.
“As I said, it might have been a hit-and-run accident where the driver panicked—”
“But that’s unlikely.”
“Or a coincidence.”
Maggie’s voice sounded far away even to her own ears. “Come on, Detective. Neither you nor I believe in coincidence. The most likely scenario is that someone tried to kill my twin sister…”
Books by Lisa Jackson
SEE HOW SHE DIES
FINAL SCREAM
WISHES
WHISPERS
TWICE KISSED
UNSPOKEN
IF SHE ONLY KNEW
HOT BLOODED
COLD BLOODED
THE NIGHT BEFORE
THE MORNING AFTER
DEEP FREEZE
FATAL BURN
SHIVER
Published by Zebra Books
LISA JACKSON
TWICE KISSED
Heartfelt thanks to all the people who helped with the research and structuring of this book, especially Ann Baumann, Nancy Bush, Matthew Crose, Michael Crose, Alexis Harrington, Sally Peters, Tess O’Shaughnessy, Dave Painter, John Ray, Robin Rue, John Scognamiglio, Joan Sean, Carl Simpson, Celia Stinson and Larry Sparks. Your help, patience and laughter were invaluable.
CONTENTS
STILL MISSING
PART I Settler’s Ridge Northern Idaho
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
PART II Rio Verde Northern California
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
PART III Cheyenne, Wyoming
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
PART I
Settler’s Ridge
Northern Idaho
November 1998
Chapter One
Help me!
Maggie froze.
The old Maxwell House coffee can she used as a grain scoop slipped from her fingers. It hit the floor. Bam! Oats sprayed. Horses tossed their heads and neighed. Her legs buckled, and she grabbed hold of a rough-hewn post supporting the hayloft.
Maggie, please! Only you can help me.
“Mary Theresa?” Maggie mouthed, though no sound passed her lips. Was it possible? After all these years would her sister’s voice reach her? The barn seemed suddenly airless. Close. Cold sweat collected on her scalp though the mercury level in the old thermometer tacked onto the wall near the door dipped below fifty degrees.
It was Thane. He did this to me. The voice pulsed through her brain.
Thane Walker. Mary Theresa’s ex-husband and the one man Maggie never wanted to lay eyes upon again.
“Did what?” This time she spoke out loud, though her throat was as tight as dried leather, any saliva that had been in her mouth long gone.
Maggie, please, don’t let him get away with it…
“Where are you?” she cried, spinning, looking up to the ancient rafters where an owl had taken up residence. Feathers and dust motes swirled in the faint shaft of light from a lone, circular window mounted near the ceiling. She knew that spoken words were useless. Mary Theresa was hundreds of miles away. So far. So damned far. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to throw her thoughts to wherever her twin might be. But it wouldn’t work. It never had. Nonetheless, she tried screaming in her mind: Mary Theresa, can you hear me? Can you? What did that bastard do to you?
She waited.
Nothing.
A restless mare snorted.
“If this is some kind of sick joke…” she said, though her heart was pounding a million beats a second. “Mary Theresa, I swear…”
Anxious, as if picking up the tension in the air, the horses shifted in their stalls, hooves rustling the straw, muscles quivering under coats that were becoming shaggy as winter approached.
Maggie shuddered, the inside of her skin quivering as it always had when Mary Theresa had contacted her through their own special means. Mental telepathy. Instinct. Magic. Witchcraft. ESP. Clairvoyance. Maggie had heard all the terms and slurs, knew that most people considered her eccentric at best and just plain crazy at worst. Slowly, her fingers sliding down the post and gathering slivers, she sank to her knees and rested her head against the solid wood.
She concentrated, willing her breathing to return to normal. Come on, Mary Theresa, come on. One more time. Eyes closed so tightly they ached, she strained to hear, but the only sounds that reached her ears were the constant rustle of hooves in straw, hot breath blowing out of nervous nostrils, the scratch of tiny claws as mice scurried along the concrete floor, hiding in the cracks and crevices of the old barn. “Don’t stop now,” she whispered, her teeth sinking into her lower lip until she tasted blood.
Nothing.
“Damn you, Mary Theresa…or Marquise or whoever you think you are. Talk to me!”
The inside of the barn felt as if it were freezing, and yet cold perspiration broke out all over her skin. “Mary Theresa—”
“Mom?”