She could hear the whispers of their abductor, standing behind her, instructing her to watch, softly calling her Junebug. She knew the voice well.
After all, it belonged to her father.
Suddenly, with an unexpected strength she didnt think possible, little Jessica flung her body sideways, sending the chairand her along with ittoppling to the ground. She didnt feel the thud of hitting the floor, which she found odd.
She looked up and saw that she was no longer lying in the cabin. Instead, she was on the hallway floor of an impressive, modern mansion. And she was no longer six-year-old Jessica Thurman. She was now twenty-eight-year-old Jessie Hunt, lying on the floor of her own home, staring up at a man holding a fireplace poker above his head, about to bring it down on her. But the man was no longer her father.
Instead, it was her husband, Kyle.
His eyes blazed with frenzied intensity as he thrust the poker down toward her face.
She brought her arms up to defend herself but knew it was too late.
*Jessie woke up with a gasp. Her hands were still raised above her head as if to block an attack. But she was alone in the apartment bedroom. She pushed herself forward in bed so that she was sitting upright. Her body along with the bed sheets were covered in sweat. Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest.
She swung her legs off the bed and placed her feet on the floor as she bent over, resting her elbows on her thighs and her head in her palms. After giving her body a few seconds to acclimate to her real surroundingsthe downtown Los Angeles apartment of her friend Lacyshe glanced at the bedside clock. It was 3:54 a.m.
As she felt the sweat start to dry on her skin, she reassured herself.
I am no longer in that cabin. I am no longer in that house. I am safe. These are just nightmares. Those men cant hurt me anymore.
But of course only half of that was true. While her soon-to-be-ex-husband, Kyle, was locked up in jail awaiting trial for various crimes, including attempting to murder her, her father had never been captured.
He still haunted her dreams regularly. Worse, she had recently learned that even though she had been placed into Witness Protection as a child, given a new home and a new name, he was still out there looking for her.
Jessie stood up and headed for the shower. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. She knew it would be useless.
Besides, an idea was circling in her head, one that she wanted to cultivate. Maybe it was time she stopped accepting that these nightmares were inevitable. Maybe she needed to stop fearing the day her father found her.
Maybe it was time to hunt him.
CHAPTER TWO
By the time her old college friend and current roommate Lacy Cartwright came out to the breakfast room, Jessie had been awake for over three hours. She had brewed a fresh pot of coffee and poured a cup for Lacy, who walked over and took it gratefully as she offered a sympathetic smile.
Another bad dream? she asked.
Jessie nodded. In the six weeks that Jessie had been living in Lacys apartment, trying to rebuild her life, her friend had gotten used to the semi-regular middle-of the-night screams and early morning wakeups. It had happened occasionally in college, so it wasnt a total surprise. But the frequency had increased dramatically since her husband had tried to kill her.
Was I loud? Jessie asked apologetically.
A little, Lacy acknowledged. But you stopped yelling after a couple of seconds. I went right back to sleep.
Im really sorry, Lace. Maybe I should buy you better earplugs until I move out, or a louder noise-canceling machine. I swear it wont be much longer.
Dont worry about it. Youre handling things much better than I would be, Lacy insisted as she tied her long hair in a ponytail.
Thats nice of you to say.
Im not just being polite, girl. Think about it. In the last two months, your husband murdered a woman, tried to frame you for it, and then attempted to kill you when you figured it out. That doesnt include your miscarriage.
Jessie nodded but didnt say anything. Lacys list of horribles didnt include her serial killer father because Lacy didnt know about him; almost no one did. Jessie preferred it that wayfor her own safety and for theirs. Lacy continued.
If it was me, Id still be curled up in the fetal position. The fact that youre almost done with physical therapy and about to enter a special FBI training program makes me wonder if youre some kind of cyborg.
Jessie had to admit that when things were laid out like that, it was pretty impressive that she was so functional. Her hand involuntarily moved to the spot on the left side of her abdomen where Kyle had plunged the fireplace poker. The doctors had told her she was lucky it had missed her internal organs.
She had an ugly scar. It made for an unsightly addition to go with the one from childhood that cut across her collarbone. She still felt a sharp twinge in her gut every now and then. But mostly she felt okay. Shed been given permission to ditch the walking cane a week ago and her physical therapist had only scheduled one more rehab session, which was today. After that, she was supposed to do the required exercises on her own. As to the mental and emotional rehab required after learning her husband was a sociopathic murderer, she was far from getting an all-clear.
I guess things arent that bad, she finally replied unconvincingly as she watched her friend finish getting dressed.
Lacy slid on her three-inch heels, turning her from a tall woman into a full-on Amazon. All long legs and cheekbones, she looked more like a runway model than an aspiring fashion designer. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail that revealed her neck. She was meticulously decked out in an outfit of her own design. She might be a buyer for a high-end boutique right now. But she had plans to have her own design firm before thirty and be the highest-profile lesbian African-American fashion designer in the country soon after that.
I dont get you, Jessie, she said as she threw on her coat. You get accepted into a prestigious FBI program at Quantico for promising criminal profilers and you seem to be lukewarm to the idea. Id think youd jump at the chance to change your surroundings for a bit. Besides, its only ten weeks. Its not like you have to move there.
Youre right, Jessie agreed as she downed the last of her third cup of coffee. Its just that theres so much going on right now, Im not sure the time is right. The divorce from Kyle isnt final yet. I still have to lock down the sale of the house in Westport Beach. Im not a hundred percent physically. And I wake up screaming most nights. I dont know that Im up for the rigors of the FBIs behavior analysis training program just yet.
Well, you better decide quickly, Lacy said as she moved to the front door. Dont you have to give them an answer by the end of the week?
I do.
Well, let me know what you decide. Also, can you open the window to your bedroom before you head out? No offense but it smells a bit like a gym in there.
She was gone before Jessie could reply, though she wasnt sure what to say to that. Lacy was a great friend who could always be counted on to give her honest opinion. But tact wasnt her strong suit.
Jessie got up and headed to her room to change. She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door and didnt immediately recognize herself. On the surface, she still looked the same, with her shoulder-length brown hair, her green eyes, her tall, five-foot-ten frame.