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  “Jackson…hey, Jackson.” I pressed my fingers into his bare chest and gave a gentle shake. “Hey,” I repeated as his eyes fluttered open before closing again. “Have you been asleep all day?” I looked around the room for some sign that he had rolled out of bed—maybe a pair of jeans on the floor or a glass on the nightstand. But there was nothing.

  “Did you sleep all day? Are you sick?” I asked, touching the back of my hand to his clammy forehead. But the smell of whiskey wafted through the air as I lowered my head closer to his. He was sick, just not the kind I was thinking.

  “I’m tired.” His snoring resumed as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

  I rolled my eyes and left him to sleep, closing the door behind me.

  I flopped down on the sofa, but not before grabbing the leftover potato salad to bring with me. I dug into the creamy deliciousness and quietly moaned as the bursts of pickle invaded my taste buds.

  I grabbed the remote and flipped to a local station playing the nightly news. The picture on the screen grabbed my attention and stole my breath, causing my chest to constrict.

  “Authorities have found the body of missing runner, Jessica Marcus. Jessica was reported missing on Wednesday by her parents. The twenty-six-year-old marathon runner was last seen on Katy Trail. According to her parents, Jessica spent each morning training for an upcoming race on that very path. Currently, there are no leads, and her cause of death has not been released, but police have said that Ms. Marcus was murdered. The local police department will hold a news conference shortly, and we will be there live to give you the latest information.”

  My heart sank as I tried to process the story while staring at the picture on the screen. My breathing became shallow and the urge to vomit washed over me.

  Her dark hair hung long but framed her face. And her blue eyes shined in the photo, staring right at me. The freckles under her eyes spread across her nose.

  She looked like me. So much like me.

  So much that the urge to vomit overtook me, forcing me to rush to the bathroom and cling to the toilet as my food exited my body.

  The fear that had stayed hidden in my mind all these years stabbed me like a knife, digging into my brain, forcing me to realize the truth.

  “Oh my God, it’s the ass crack of dawn. This better be good, Rach.” Sara’s raspy voice was low in my ear as I sat at the red light on my way to work. She wasn’t exactly an early riser—plus, she always had a hard time sleeping at night. So mornings weren’t exactly her favorite time of day.

  “You’re so dramatic, it’s 7:45, it’s not that early,” I replied, pressing my foot on the gas when the light changed, going slightly over the speed limit. The traffic this morning had thrown me off a little; plus, I just couldn’t seem to get it together. The face of the woman who’d been murdered was burned into my memory, and I couldn’t shake the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “So what’s up?” She cleared her throat and sounded slightly more awake.

  “Okay, remember the kid who was murdered? How he looked like Jackson?” I stalled, waiting for her reply.

  “Yeah, yeah, that was weird.”

  “It gets weirder.” My voice cracked on the last syllable.

  “Okay…what the fuck are you talking about?” Her confusion leaped through the receiver.

  “There was another murder…” I paused, trying to erase the image from my mind, but it wasn’t going anywhere. “She looks like…like me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do you mean, what do I mean?” I shrieked, “I mean, she looks just like me. Like it’s weird. The first one was a weird coincidence, but this is too weird.”

  I realized I just repeated the word “weird” three times. But I didn’t know how else to describe it.

  “Okay, I’m turning the TV on now. Maybe they’ll talk about it on the local news this morning.” I could hear her fumbling around and then voices in the background.

  I sat in silence, waiting…wondering…worrying.

  “Holy shit,” she mumbled. “That’s fucked up, Rach.” Her voice was quiet and distracted.

  “Is it showing her?” I asked, but I already knew the answer, I could tell by Sara’s tone.

  “Yeah, oh my God.”

  “Okay, I’m just going to ask this, and I know it’s crazy, but I’m going to ask anyway.” I gripped the steering wheel tight, worried that my greatest fear had come true.

  “I think I know what you’re about to ask.” She stopped short and waited.

  “Will you check with mom’s friend at the facility to see if he’s still there?” The lump in my throat prevented me from saying his name. It hadn’t left my lips in so many years, I wasn’t going to allow it right now.

  “Dude, he’s in a coma. There’s no way he woke up from being a vegetable and decided to go on a killing spree.”

  “Will you just check, please?” I squeezed my eyes shut as I sat in the parking lot at work.

  “I mean, yeah. I’ll check. But this is just some fucked-up coincidence. It’s gotta be.” She tried to assure me as I stared at the clock on my car stereo.

  I had three minutes to get inside, and I was too anxious to know for myself. I’d have to silence my phone once I got inside, and I needed to know right now.

  “Call me back,” I spit out before ending the call without waiting for another word from either of us.

  I sat for the next three minutes staring at my phone, willing it to ring. Willing Sara to call me back and tell me I was paranoid. This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t wake up after all these years. I prayed this wasn’t actually happening.

  But deep down inside, I knew how powerful his evil was. Part of me always knew he’d come back for me. He would punish me for what I’d done—unleash his vengeance on me for letting him lay in the ditch to die. An evil like his couldn’t be contained, not forever.

  After all these years, he was probably waiting for the right moment to emerge and retaliate against both of us for what we’d done.

  As I scrambled around my car, gathering my lunch and purse before stepping out, my hands shook and my body trembled. In my haste, I dropped my keys in the parking lot. I looked in all directions as I bent down to pick them up before checking my door three times to make sure my car had actually locked.

  “Please, God, no,” I whispered to myself, to the Lord above, to anyone who would listen and be willing to help me—save me from the wrath I knew would come for me.

  Once I arrived inside, I noticed Amie’s door was already open with her light on. I could hear her talking to someone on the phone, and I let out a sigh of relief knowing I wasn’t alone. But my relief was short-lived when a text from Sara appeared on the screen of my cell phone.

  I sat on the chair in the corner of our bedroom, staring out the window, watching the sun replace the moon. I hadn’t slept most of the night and allowed my fear to dictate my thoughts. And to be honest, it pissed me off. I shouldn’t allow him to scare me anymore. I wasn’t a child. I was a grown woman, and I was capable of protecting myself.

  But he was evil.

  And I knew he would come after me. After us. I had to talk to Jackson when his mind was clear before the whiskey clouded his thoughts and controlled his every waking move.

  I’d been sitting in this position for what seemed like hours, watching and waiting. Patience was never a virtue I possessed, and waiting for Jackson’s alarm to go off drove me insane. After a few more minutes of bouncing my knees up and down, wiping my sweaty palms on my pajama pants, I finally decided to wake him myself.

  “Jackson…hey, Jackson, can you wake up, please?” I spoke quietly and tapped his shoulder, waiting for a response.

  He began to stir, and for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of the boy I used to know—the one I had fallen in love with. It was fleeting, though. His brow crinkled, and the man that replaced him came to light.

  “What is it?” A sleepy whisper escaped his lips, glancing around th
e room before looking my direction.

  “I need to talk to you. Can you wake up please?”

  “What time is it?” His eyes squinted, and he grabbed his cell phone from the side table, still not looking at me.

  “Six thirty.” I let out a sigh, hoping he didn’t bitch about me waking him earlier than necessary.

  “Something wrong?” He cleared his throat, and the scent of whiskey oozed from his pores. I didn’t think I would ever get used to that smell. The morning after was always so much worse than the original.

  “He’s awake.” My throat constricted around the words, but I knew they needed to be said.

  “Who?” He looked at me with confusion written all over his face. It aggravated me that I had to say his name. I knew we hadn’t spoken of him in many years, but he should know. I shouldn’t have to say it.

  Dammit.

  “Duane.” One simple word. But the most difficult word to force past my lips. God, I hated him. I hated the things he’d done. I hated what he did to Mama. I hated the way he made me feel weak and inferior. I hated that his evil ways still held such a tight grip on my emotions. I hated that he didn’t die that day in the ditch.

  I hated that Jackson made me say his name.

  “Really?” He cocked his eyebrow and stared past me for a moment before releasing a “Hmph” and laying his head back down on his pillow, closing his eyes.

  His reaction felt like a knife in my chest. His nonchalant response stirred anger inside me that I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt. He had to realize what this meant. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for him.

  “That’s it?” My voice was laced with disgust, and I couldn’t hide it—I didn’t even try.

  “What the fuck do you want me to say, Rach?” he spat, throwing his forearm over his eyes.

  “I want you to realize what’s happening!” My voice rose as I crossed my arms over my chest and shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

  “And what’s that?” The elevation of his own tone matching mine as he propped himself up on his elbows with a smirk across his face. He squinted his eyes, and then he just stared and waited for my response. Waited for the words to fall from my lips. He knew my fear—I’d let it be known repeatedly after the wreck. But it’s like he wanted me to say it. He was trying to hurt me, I could feel it.

  “He knows. He saw us.” My lip began to quiver, and the tears that threatened to fall stung my eyes. Son of a bitch.

  “Who cares?” He turned on his side without a bit of worry or empathy.

  The murders.

  Their pictures were burned into my memory. He had to see the resemblance. He had to put the facts together. He had to realize what was happening.

  He was playing a game. He was coming for us.

  “He’s awake, Jackson. He recovered. He’s out of the hospital. He’s on the loose.” Panic coursed through my veins. With each word out of my mouth, my pitch got higher.

  “And?” He let out a sigh, and I wanted to attack him, physically hurt him for being this way.

  “He’s going to come for us,” I cried as tears slid down my cheeks, one after the other.

  “Don’t be stupid.” He let out a small laugh, and I knew I had to get away from him. I’d never felt this way toward him. Most days, I felt sadness. Some days, I felt pity. Other days, it was even disgust. But right now, in this very moment, rage filled me and threatened to bubble over.

  “Fuck you, Jackson,” I shouted before turning my back on him.

  I walked into the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom we shared, slamming the door before locking it behind me.

  “How dare he? What the fuck happened to him?” I whispered to myself, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My skin was splotchy, red-rimmed eyes, and a runny nose. Pathetic.

  I turned on the hottest setting of the shower and climbed inside, praying he didn’t knock on the door. I didn’t want to hear an apology. I wanted distance.

  The old Jackson would have comforted me and promised to protect me. But the man he was now simply laughed and called me stupid.

  My clenched fists hung at my sides as I tried to relax while letting the steaming, hot water wash over my naked body, hoping it’d comfort me, but to no avail.

  I remained in the shower until the water went cold before finally emerging into the steam-filled bathroom with fog surrounding me. I sat on the edge of the tub for a few minutes, not ready to face him but needing to get the hell out of this house.

  I finally grabbed my terrycloth robe from the hook attached to the door and wrapped it around my body just as a sudden chill covered my skin.

  When I got the nerve to exit the bathroom, I found an empty bed and let out a sigh of relief. I shuffled my feet over to the window and glanced at my single car in the driveway.

  “Thank God.” I shook my head and walked into the living room to make sure the door was locked, including the chain.

  He might have thought my paranoia was ridiculous and unwarranted, but I knew better.

  Different thoughts of ways to protect myself ran through my mind. I always considered getting my handgun license and now seemed like a good time. I would ask Sara who she used for an alarm company and get estimates on my lunch break. If Jackson would no longer be my protector, I’d damn sure protect myself.

  It’s what I should have done all along.

  Fuck him for calling me stupid. I wasn’t stupid. I wouldn’t be caught off guard, and I sure as hell wouldn’t let any man hurt me. Not again.

  My lunch break was over, but I’d spent it at my desk stewing over Jackson’s attitude this morning. I was still pissed, and I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go home tonight. But I didn’t know if I wanted to share the details of our stupid argument with Sara, and her house was the only place I could go. I kept volleying between which direction to go once the workday ended. It also kept me from calling her during my lunch break to get the details about her alarm company.

  “Hey, Rachel, I had a message on my cell earlier for an emergency meeting with a patient. Will you double check that I’m free at one?” Amie peeked her head out of her office and gave me a nervous grin.

  It was funny how she acted like what she asked me to do wasn’t my job in the first place. But even if it weren’t, I’d gladly do anything I could to help her. I’d go above and beyond, whatever it took, to help this office run smoothly. I knew how important the lives of these children were, and it was my pleasure to help in what few ways I could. Not to mention, it was a helpful distraction from Jackson and his hateful behavior.

  “Sure, hold on one sec.” I pulled my appointment book from my drawer and scanned the daily appointments. “Nope, you’re free.”

  “Okay, good. Just jot down Lindsey Beck to keep the records updated.” She gave me a thumbs-up before retreating back to her office.

  The mention of her name caused my heart to race. Her gorgeous father would be bringing her in, and although it was impossible not to notice just how attractive he was, it bothered me that his precious daughter needed an emergency session. My mind wondered what was going on, although the truth was, I would never know. Amie would never break doctor/patient confidentiality, nor would I ask. But unfortunately, thanks to the horrid things I’d witnessed as a child, my imagination ran wild, worried about the multitude of things that could make this meeting necessary. I hoped she was okay.

  But I didn’t have long to let my imagination run wild. The bell on the door rang, announcing their arrival. I jumped to my feet and busied myself at my desk, refilling the candy bowl and straightening my files—more than once—in an effort to distract myself from the nervous butterflies that flailed around in my stomach.

  “Good afternoon, how are you?” Landon gave me that million-dollar grin when we made eye contact; although, I could see something else in his eyes. Pain. Worry. Sadness. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was there. I’d seen it way too many times not to recognize the turmoil.

  “I’m doing good.�
� It was a lie, but I continued anyway. “How are you, Mr. Beck?”

  “Please, call me Landon.” he insisted, and I quickly turned my attention to the little girl with the obviously tight grip on his hand.

  “Hello there, Lindsey. It’s very nice to see your beautiful face today.” I knelt down, closer to her level, and gave her a genuine smile. My other worries faded from my mind, if only for a brief moment.

  Her downcast gaze lifted to meet mine. Hers were filled with tears, and everything inside me wanted to scoop her up and hold her tightly, reassure her that she would be okay and that she was in a safe place.

  “I know Miss Amie is very glad you’re here, too,” I spoke softly, and physically had to press my fingers against my leg to prevent myself from reaching out to comfort her.

  “I don’t want to talk today, Daddy.” Lindsey looked up at her father, shaking her head repeatedly. I rose up and took a couple of steps back, hoping to remove myself from a situation that should be private.

  “Honey, you like Miss Amie, remember? Last time you said she was really nice.” He perched himself low and gently ran his fingers through her long locks.

  “Don’t make me. Please, don’t make me.” She began to cry and her voice shook when her sobs overtook her. My chest tightened, and my overwhelming urge to comfort her begged to let me do so.

  I stared at the floor, but I could feel Landon’s eyes darting back and forth between the two of us. Mine involuntarily looked in his direction, and I could see his pleading stare. He appeared helpless in the situation, unsure of what to do next.

  After mentally arguing with myself for several seconds, I took the initiative to intervene, hoping I didn’t cross a line or get myself in trouble.

  “Lindsey?” I knelt in front of her and waited patiently for her to give me her attention.