The Complete Colony Series. Lisa JacksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
And then the truck crept forward, its front end bearing against hers, pushing her toward the edge.
“No!” Oh, God, no!
Screaming, terror shooting through her, she slammed her foot onto the accelerator, her wheels spinning madly but gaining nothing as the SUV forced her backward. Closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, where the guardrail was but a small strip of steel.
“Please, God, no. Not now.”
She looked through her windshield and saw the face of the driver.
It was him!
The man she’d seen in the window.
Him!
Oh, God, those dead, flat eyes!
The truck’s engine roared, pushing forward, a beast of a machine.
Her Toyota was no match and slid ever backward, smoke coming out from the tires, gravel spitting.
Renee jerked on the wheel.
Too late.
With a shriek of metal, the car’s rear end broke through the guardrail and the Camry was forced over the edge.
Renee stared upward in horror as her car slid into space. Her scream tore from her throat and echoed off the sheer cliffs as the Camry then spun end over end into a greedy, reaching sea far below.
Chapter Seventeen
She knows!
As our eyes meet, I see the recognition, the understanding.
My heart is thundering, pounding, full of excitement, my fingers clutching the steering wheel as I step on the accelerator.
Her face is a mask of horror and I can almost hear her screams.
God has given me her as a gift. She is not Rebecca. She is not Jezebel. She is not one of them. She is just a stupid woman who threatens the mission.
I cannot smell her, only the heady scent of the sea crashing on the rocks far below.
Yet she must die because she knows.
Bam! My truck’s grill guard hits the car hard a last time and the Camry slams into the weakened guardrail to plummet over the edge, spinning and toppling as it dives into the sea.
Trembling, I back up quickly, throw the truck into Drive, and make good my escape. Though this is a lonely stretch of road at this hour in this late part of winter, I must be careful.
If anyone were to see, my mission, my life’s work, would be destroyed.
There is still so much to do and there is a scent in the air, the hint of an odor that I haven’t smelled in a long, long while.
I smile to myself as I drive northward before heading east.
To her.
Hudson swept his cell phone from the kitchen table as he and Becca headed out to his truck, Ringo on his leash zigzagging across the gravel drive. Becca climbed inside, helping the dog onto her lap as Hudson dug his keys from his pocket.
It was early afternoon. They’d spent the morning at his house, waking late, drinking coffee, tending to the livestock, eating a leisurely brunch at a diner in Laurelton before returning to the farm. The day had been clear and the horses had stretched their legs, trotting, tails lifted around the pasture. Boston, the Appaloosa, her belly large with the foal she carried, rubbed her side against the rough bark of an oak tree, snorting in contentment, her breath two cloudy bursts from her nostrils,