The Deadly Series Boxed Set

by Jaycee Clark

  “Hannah?” She caught the tremor in her own voice. She had to find her daughter, but couldn’t see the little girl. Jesslyn could feel her, the sweet innocence of a child.

  There was something else in the fog. Something threatening. She sensed it. The hair tickled on her arms.

  Danger.

  “Hannah!”

  “Mommy, be careful. He sees you.”

  Jesslyn spun around in the fog, though it was useless, only causing the cursed mists to swirl about her, like skeletal fingers toying with her, pulling at her hair.

  “Hannah, where’s your father?” They were usually all together.

  A soft sigh.

  “Daddy couldn’t come. We weren’t supposed to come yet. Daddy says to say to you ‘it’s about time.’”

  What did that mean?

  “Time for what?” If only she could see.

  Another little giggle. “I asked that.”

  A moment of silence. “For you to laugh,” came the answer in a child’s wise voice.

  Then, thunder rumbled in the distance heralding a vicious storm. The air changed, the charge crackling the breath she took, even as the fog began to lift.

  “Be careful, Mommy.”

  Goose bumps rose on her arms at her daughter’s warning.

  “Hannah! Wait. Wait.” Jesslyn reached out towards the sound of her daughter’s voice, but only grasped the tingling mists.

  “Be strong. I have to go. He’s close. Don’t look at him. Don’t smile, Mommy. Don’t smile.”

  “Who?” The storm, closer now, engulfed, drenching her.

  The mists parted, rose quickly as though someone snatched a veil from her eyes. There was a lake, churning, swirling. Waves battered at the shore. The wind howled around her, picked at her long strands of hair, pushed her towards the edge of the troubled water.

  Lightning flashed and thunder crackled, ripping the world around her apart.

  She could hear voices crying on the wind. Moaning, pleading, but she couldn’t make out the words. She looked down at the choppy water. It calmed to a mirror surface. Her reflection stared back at her.

  Jesslyn jerked. Her face rose out of the lake, dripping wet with water, running with blood. A scream ripped from her throat. Echoed in the trembling air around her. On and on it went.

  “Shhhh. Jesslyn, come on. Wake up. It’s a dream, wake up.” A deep voice whispered in her ear. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

  Safe. Aiden.

  His voice calmed her fears. She breathed a deep sigh. A woodsy scent laced with spice filled her senses, relaxed her. The beat of a heart against hers drove the nightmare away.

  • • •

  He’d waited and waited. The night gave him what he needed.

  Silently, he crept through the forest, the way easily known to him.

  He went back.

  At the edge of the trees he watched as the moonlight shifted across the lawns and he remembered the way it happened that night—the way she’d struggled.

  Softly, the breeze ruffled the aspens high above his head. He hummed his favorite symphony, the discordant notes soothing him.

  What was he to do? He’d prayed for answers, meditated, and nothing had come so far.

  Even when he’d seen her today, he knew she didn’t know who he was.

  She’d only stopped for a cup of coffee. If he’d turned and left sooner, he would have missed her. He’d studied her, liked how her hair was braided, noted she was pale and tired and that the guard was still with her. She’d stopped at several places in town, the longest at the store.

  She probably didn’t see anything.

  If she did, he wouldn’t be standing here tonight.

  But what if she remembered something? Some little detail he’d overlooked.

  He was almost afraid. Yet, the giddy feel of exposure was surprising.

  Everyone was so shocked. Why?

  He’d rid the town of a Jezebel.

  And it had been so simple, so easy. He’d known her schedule, watched her jog every morning through the woods, knew when she went to work, when she left. He knew what her dimpled smile looked like. He knew what it felt like to watch the life fade from her.

  The breeze quaked the leaves above him again. It was quiet.

  His pulse pounded at the memory of her struggle. The monster stirred at the sweet thought. How she tried to fight him, but it only took a moment to restrain her. One quick stab and it was over. The blood flowed, and a sacrifice was made. Four wounds. Four points. Forgiveness for folly. But he hadn’t gotten them all done.

  The other had come first . . .

  He shuddered as the beast awakened. No, not yet. Not yet. He could control it.

  He could. He had to. It was too soon. He could have avenged sooner, but now he’d have to wait. Another too soon would not be wise. Though if he were meant to kill again quickly, he would.

  Maybe this was a new test, a harder test, in the face of adversity.

  The community’s cry for justice was almost a surprise. The outrage and sorrow. He’d done them a favor! Saved them from her. He sighed, shaking his head. They simply didn’t understand, and never would. He knew that, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

  He hummed and wondered who would be sent to him next?

  Or if she’d already been sent to him.

  The problem with the possible one was that she didn’t look like the rest, didn’t act like them.

  He looked to the other darkened houses.

  If they only knew. A little closer and they would find so much more. Much, much more. The monster yawned. Last night’s blood wasn’t the first to spill, and it wouldn’t be the last.

  Chapter 8

  Jesslyn sighed and leaned back in the office chair. God, what a night. The Copper Dime was once again open. Well, closed now. They’d opened two days before, after finding someone to come in and cook until a permanent chef could be found.

  Dishes clanged and rattled from the kitchen, crashing undoubtedly to the floor. Wonder how many they’d have to replace?

  All things considered, the night, and the one before, had gone really well. She and Tim had called Connie, a stand-in chef, to help out.

  But Connie wasn’t Maddy. No one was Maddy, even if they followed her recipes.

  The police talked to her some more. Chief Tight Ass was as closemouthed as always when she’d asked her own questions. Jesslyn knew T.J. and the chief were fishing for something, looking for something besides the obvious. She just wondered what the hell it was.

  Yesterday the guard outside her house had been pulled and Garrison explained Maddy’s death as a burglary gone bad. Maddy must have arrived home and interrupted the guy.

  Even though he pulled her sit-outside-and-tag-along babysitter, the chief had warned her to be careful, to keep an eye out, and call him if anything else came up.

  And she overheard T.J. mention Lotten. Lotten. Where had she heard that name before? Turning to the computer, she shook off the thought as another clang echoed from the kitchen.

  Aiden had come in for a little while earlier. She’d missed him the last couple of days. Work often sucked. She’d have rather spent the days with him. But, he was trying to get his hotel up to standards as quickly as possible. She was over halfway done with her latest manuscript. Between the two of them, they hardly said more than hi in the hall or in the kitchen. Okay, maybe they exchanged more than hi. But, she’d still have rather spent the time with Aiden. They’d had so much fun the other day.

  Grinning, she propped her hand in her chin. When was the last time she’d just had fun? Apparently long enough, she couldn’t remember. He made her smile, made her laugh, made her want to strangle him half the time. They talked about everything and anything and nothing at all.

  Connections. It was all about connections, and she felt more connected to Aiden than she had to anyone in a very long time.

  The lake, the sun, the mountains. The kiss. God, could the man kiss. Her blood hummed.

 
And he knew how to give a great back rub.

  What in the hell was with her? This was a guy. Just a guy.

  And Everest is just a mountain.

  With a muffled groan, she buried her face in her hands and smothered a laugh. She was out of her mind. What was she doing? No enlightenment suddenly dawned, but it felt—right. It felt good. Yeah, definitely good. At least, as long as she didn’t start to analyze things too closely. Which she usually did sooner or later.

  “Hmmm. Either you’re pretending to scream at me over the numbers or I’m being egotistical again.”

  Jerking guiltily, she looked up at Tim and frowned. “The latter, I assure you.”

  Please don’t let me blush. I’ve got a reputation to uphold here. No, I won’t blush, I won’t.

  She was blushing. Jesslyn Black blushing?

  Tim studied her face, noted she had circles under her eyes, yet she looked relaxed, and had seemed almost lighter the last few days. And what was with the blush? He didn’t want to think about that.

  “You okay?”

  “Tim, I’m fine, really.” She stopped.

  “What?” he asked. There was something else.

  “Nothing, never mind.”

  He came off the doorjamb and walked into the room, sitting in the chair. “What, Jesslyn?”

  It was his serious, no-nonsense tone that got her to comply, or at least he liked to think so. She picked up a pencil and tapped it as she asked him, “You’ve known Aiden for a while, haven’t you?”

  Great, just what I need, two friends involved, plying me with questions. Tread carefully. “Since college.”

  “Is he . . . Does he . . . That is . . .” She sighed.

  “Spit it out. I’ve never known you at a loss for words.” This might be worse, or better, he amended, than he’d initially thought.

  She took a deep breath and hurried through, “Does he do casual? I mean, is Aiden one of those rich men who finds someone to have fun with, no matter where they are? No, that’s not exactly what I mean. I know he isn’t that shallow. I just don’t know. I mean, not since Jerrod . . . Arrrggg!” Jesslyn stopped again.

  Tim wanted to smile. She was so rattled and that was so unlike Jesslyn Black, the ever-composed and shielded woman he knew.

  “I don’t know what I should feel. Am I just diving in without looking for the rocks, or am I missing a great swim because I’m too busy standing on the shore?” Her brows drew into a frown.

  Tim started to answer her, but she trudged on.

  “I like Aiden, Tim. I really do. I know it sounds absolutely crazy. We’ve spent a few days doing stuff together. Some guy I met about a week ago. Then, bam! I haven’t felt more—I don’t know—something.” She waved her hand in the air. “Whatever it is, I haven’t felt it in a really long time. He makes me laugh at nothing and I think about the next time I’ll see him, even knowing he’ll say something that will irritate me. I’m just nuts.” Her sigh moaned out as she shook her head. “Maybe your long-standing advice is right.”

  “What advice?”

  “I just need to screw somebody and then I wouldn’t be so—so—whatever, with Aiden. That’s probably what it is. Just lust. So I’ll sleep with him, and life will get back to normal.”

  Timothy Kerrin tried, he really did, but he could no more stop the smile that spread across his face than the laugh that rusted out.

  “Poor Jess. What to do. Whatever it is between you two, and whatever happens in the end, I think you needed this. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  • • •

  Jesslyn bolted upright in bed, a scream trapped in her throat. Alone in her bed, she rocked. Oh God, that one was bad. Fog and mists, Hannah’s warning in her ears even as she ran. She hated fleeing dreams. Jesslyn drew her knees up and laid her cheek on them and reached for her glasses. Air. She needed some air. Flinging the covers back, she all but tore out of bed and through the balcony door. The night chilled her, pricking her exposed skin. Jesslyn gripped the wooden railing, leaning onto her arms.

  The cold predawn air chilled her exposed skin. Taking one last deep breath, she sat, like she’d learned in her class. On another deep breath, she tried to let go of the tensions.

  Yoga was supposed to help her relax, help her maintain herself in the here and now.

  Sometimes it worked.

  Right now it wasn’t.

  On a sigh, she stood and tried to shake off the remnants of the dream. At least she hadn’t screamed out. Or if she had, Aiden hadn’t heard her.

  Inside, she leaned back against the doors. Deep breath. Deep breath.

  It’s okay. No one lurked in the shadows here.

  Idiot.

  Jesslyn looked at the clock. Almost four. Great. Three whole hours of sleep. There was no way she was chancing sleep again tonight. She simply could not deal with another nightmare.

  Hell. She grabbed a clean towel and decided on a shower. The hot steam warmed her, washed away the chill the dream shadowed over her, and made her wish, just for a moment, that she were with Aiden. Half an hour later, Jesslyn emerged dressed in another pair of leggings and a big shirt. She made her way down the stairs to the kitchen and turned on the coffeemaker. While the black brew sputtered and gurgled its way into the carafe, she clicked on the tube to a news channel airing live off the East Coast. Forget this. She’d go write, lose herself and her mind in the world she created.

  An hour later, she shoved the keyboard away. Tripe. It was all tripe. Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. A glance out the window promised the dawn was coming. The sky edged the darkened mountain in pale, almost white yellow. Rolling her neck, she tried to relieve some of the tension.

  On a curse, she picked up her cold coffee and downed the rest of it. Nerves skittered under her skin, made her edgy. What was wrong with her? The damn dream.

  She paced her office, tried to settle her emotions. Finally, she gave it up. It was after five. One thought kept comforting her, that of a tall, raven-haired man with startling blue eyes.

  No, it was too early to go beating on his door. She’d handled dreams before by herself and she would again. Besides, what would she say if he did answer the door? I had a bad dream. Can I sleep with you?

  She could all but hear his response to that.

  Jesslyn heaved a sigh. Forget stewing around in here. She needed to get out. She’d run every morning till Maddy died without a cop watching her. Some maniac was not going to change her life. The guy was here before and she’d jogged safely in blissful ignorance.

  Here before . . .

  That was it!

  She stood rooted to the spot. Lotten. Lotten. A woman last spring died on the mountain. A tourist here skiing. Everyone thought it was a mugging gone bad. She’d been stabbed. And the police were connecting the two. Otherwise, why would T.J. mention the name? Damn. It was too early to go to the library. Sitting back down at the computer, she pulled up the local papers from that time.

  There. Elaine Lotten, twenty-eight. She was from Kansas. What color of hair did she have? And why did that matter?

  An image from her dream flashed unbidden in her mind. A lake, a storm. Blood. Chills raced over her.

  She’d play stupid, go by the police station and talk to T.J. about something she remembered. She knew T.J. well enough to see if she lied to her, and considering what happened to Maddy, Jesslyn didn’t think that was likely. Coincidence? No, she didn’t think so.

  Now her nerves were pumping with too much contained energy. Jogging. She was going jogging. It was undoubtedly irresponsible, but she didn’t care. Besides, there were people already out and about walking, running, and cycling. There always were. People here took their workouts seriously. And since the trail was right beside the highway for the most, and on open land the rest, it wasn’t like anyone could hide behind a bush and jump her.

  Jesslyn ran upstairs and dressed. She simply had to get out. A few quick strokes with a brush, swept her hair up into a ponytail. On hands and knees,
Jesslyn dug through the bottom of her closet till she found her tennis shoes. Sitting on the floor, she pulled out a pair of white socks from her bottom dresser drawer, put them on, then jerked on the shoes and tied them off.

  Where was her MP3? The drawer of the nightstand yielded what she looked for. Now, if only she could find a good playlist. Something loud, fast, and metallic. No soothing tunes this morning. She wanted nerves to scream through the headphones as they did through her. After scrolling for a bit, she found what she needed. “Serious Running Tunes,” she’d titled it. There were several artists on this playlist, metal bands from the 1980s. Poison, Def Leppard, Bon Jovi and loads of others.

  Downstairs, she found her fanny pack and dropped her phone, wallet and keys in it. Once it was secured, she clipped the MP3 to it, adjusted the headphones and cranked the volume. Jesslyn stretched against the table, then bounded outside.

  • • •

  Aiden watched from his bedroom window as Jesslyn jogged down the driveway, seeing which way she went. Her ponytail swung from side to side as she pumped along. And what the hell was she wearing? Skintight spandex shorts, a sports bra and some sort of little jacket.

  He’d been up for several hours already. He’d sat up with his windows open, working on his laptop until he heard Jesslyn’s pickup below in the driveway last night. Finally, he’d been able to shut down and go to sleep. Then, something had jerked him awake. He lay there listening and heard her out on her balcony.

  What the hell was she doing? Jogging alone? The woman needed a damn keeper.

  He hated to jog. Aiden knew he brought his shorts and tennis shoes along. He’d used them on the treadmill at the hotel gym.

  A few minutes later, he was puffing along the asphalt. There she was. For a little thing, she had a good pace. She was almost at the end of the lane that led out onto the highway. Sighing, he started after her and realized she must do this often. Keeping an eye to see which way she turned at the stop sign.

  The air was very thin up here. God, how in the hell did the woman do this morning after morning? Hadn’t she heard the medical reports that running was bad for the knees? His lungs hurt, the chilled morning air burned as he gulped it. And he sounded like a chain smoker trying out a new membership to a health club.