Lisa Jackson - Wicked Game

It was really too early to make phone calls, but Hudson unplugged his cell phone from his charger and pushed the speed button that accessed his sister’s number. Renee didn’t pick up and he decided not to leave a third message telling her to call him. She’d sounded better. He was being over-protective. And the phone call to her soon-to-be ex, Tim Trudeau, earlier in the week, hadn’t been a wise choice, either.

Tim had acted as if he couldn’t be less interested in anything to do with Renee, saying only, “When you talk to her, tell her I’m putting the house on the market. Real estate agent’s coming by today and we’re coming up with a price. All I need is her signature.”

Oh, yeah, pal. I’ll pass that along.

Renee and Tim owned a house on the east side of the Willamette River, in an area known as Westmoreland. Hudson had steered clear of all the marital infighting that had broken out between them the last few years, but with Renee’s strange change of attitude lately, he’d felt the need for more information.

His phone buzzed in his hand and to his complete surprise he saw the call was from Renee. He clicked on. “Finally,” he greeted her, stepping onto the outside porch in order not to wake Becca. “Where have you been?”

“I told you I was going to the beach.”

“Well, what the hell are you doing there? I’ve left messages.”

“I’ve been really buried in my story.” Her voice came and went, as cell phone reception was spotty along the coast. But he could hear an element of excitement in her voice. Or was it fear?

“The Jessie story?”

“Do you ever think this is the end of the…” She disappeared for a sentence or two.

“Renee? Can you hear me?”

“…and people formed colonies along the cliffs that became towns, mostly. It’s like a history lesson. But very weird. I’ve been interviewing…”

“Interviewing?” Hudson listened hard, but he heard only fuzz on the line. “Renee? Renee?”

“…you there?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here.”

“Remember? Jessie…all about justice?…Now I know…”

“Know what?”

“…Jessie…I’ll talk to you when I…Be there soon, okay? On my way back. If you can hear me, good-bye! Love you!”

“Renee!” Hudson heard the distinct sound of his phone disconnecting. He ended his call and made a sound of frustration. Well, at least she was coming back. He was determined to get to the bottom of what was driving her, be it a story or some inner worry or fear that she’d been reluctant to name so far.

On bare feet he climbed back up the stairs to check on Becca. He peeked into the room and saw her eyes were open. A soft, sexy smile caressed her lips and she lifted her arms to him. Thoughts of Renee drifted away and he quickly stripped naked and came to bed once more.

Renee tossed her cell phone into her purse as she drove north. The damned thing would be useless for a few more miles. There were stretches on the coast where there was poor service and then a place in the mountains where there was no connection at all. But she’d be home in a couple of hours.

Good! She’d had it with the beach. Even the tidy little hotel where she’d rented a room in Pacific Beach, ten miles north of Deception Bay, had become tiresome. She hadn’t gone back to the cabin where she’d thought she’d seen a man with dead eyes outside the window, a place where she’d “misplaced” a butcher knife. No way. She wasn’t that secure. No, she’d rented a room at the hotel ten miles away, a place she could write her story and sleep in peace.

Now she flexed her fingers on the steering wheel of her Camry, a hard smile crossing her face. She’d known something was wrong. Off. But she hadn’t known exactly what.

Nor all of the implications.

Now she did. And it was a story and a half. So much more than what she could have ever anticipated. She, and all her friends, had only seen the tip of the iceberg, not the bulk of secrets and deceptions that floated beneath. But she’d followed Jessie’s path and she was pretty sure she’d now learned what Jessie had.

“Justice,” she said aloud, feeling a familiar frisson slide down her back.

There was danger because she’d learned enough to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She knew the who and, sort of, the why. She was certain that those bones in the maze belonged to Jessie, but she didn’t understand what Glenn’s death had to do with anything. She was still working that angle, needed to figure out if he’d been murdered or had just been an innocent victim in a tragic accident.

And she needed more information about Siren Song, though it was hard to come by.

Cults, she thought. This one was steeped in mystery and lore. Just the kind of thing readers loved!

But Jessie had died because of what she’d learned. Renee was certain of it.

And Madame Madeline-Mad Maddie-had warned Renee that she, too, was in danger.

She clamped her emotions down hard. She wouldn’t think of that as she drove away from Deception Bay. Nor would she think about that stranger with the icy eyes staring at her. It had chilled her soul but good.

But now…now she had the story, at least a good part of it.

“My God,” she whispered as she followed Highway 101 north along the Pacific coast, the ocean appearing gray and restless, its surface far below the cliffs on her left lit by streaks of sunlight and shrouded by dark clouds. She was glad the southbound lane was a barrier between her and the edge as she headed on her way to the turn-off to Highway 26, which led east to Laurelton and Portland. She felt the need to stay safe. To keep herself from danger of any kind, because she’d prodded the monster with a stick and it had lifted cold eyes and stared her down.

Another quiver swept through her body.

All she had to do was get home. Back. To Hudson and sanity.

Her toe touched the accelerator a bit harder.

Hurry, she told herself.

She glanced at her rearview and saw the vehicle approaching fast from behind. A truck of some kind. Where had it come from? She’d been alone on the road as the sun rose.

Not to worry. It’s just another driver.

Still, Renee pressed her toes to the accelerator some more, just a bit, though the road wound around sheer dun-colored cliffs on her right, cliffs that would turn to the rolling foothills of the fir-choked Coast Range when she turned east. To the left, across the opposite lane, was the low metal guardrail, no serious barrier to the edge that dropped to the boiling surf, far below.

The truck, its front end protected by some kind of metal bars, closed the gap, alarming Renee. Maybe she should slow down, let him pass. She wished she’d decided to make this trip later in the day, when more traffic was about.

Ahead were tricky turns. An outcropping of rock on the Pacific side humped upward. A last barrier before the road snaked into two hairpin turns with just the guardrail as a barrier. No turnout to pull into. No shoulder.

Renee lightly touched the brake as the outcropping flashed by and she headed into the first turn. Rays of light shone through the boiling clouds like a message from heaven, sparkling on the surf.

Ram!

Renee’s head snapped back and her grip on the wheel loosened. Frantically she tried to regain control. The truck had slammed into her.

And he was coming back. Full speed!

“Stop!” she cried. “Stop!”

She punched the accelerator.

Her car leapt forward.

Too late!

Bam!

The truck shot into her car again, spinning the Toyota from her control. She yanked hard, turning the car toward the cliffs. Ram!

With a shriek of metal, the Camry spun around, glancing off the cliffs to her right, careening toward the guardrail. Heart pounding, fear shrieking through her body, Renee yanked on the steering wheel and her compact shimmied around, its rear end facing the guardrail, its front staring into the face of the pale-colored truck.