Deserves to die lisa jackson epub torrent

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deserves to die lisa jackson epub torrent

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He held her finger in his open palm, the ring now his. Exquisite diamonds. So easily removed. So easily pocketed. Satisfied, he kicked the body off its mound, watching it roll down the short bank. With a soft splash, she slipped into the murky water to float for a second, catching the slow moving current, heading downstream and out of sight. He took in several deep breaths and wiped his brow before pocketing his treasure. As he turned back toward the dense foliage, he heard another sound over the chorus of crickets and bullfrogs, a quiet, ominous splash, the sound of a large reptile sliding into the water.

He smiled as he hurried to his hidden truck, knowing that she was already gator bait. As if on cue, there was a loud splash, a frantic, sickening roiling of water, a flash of a white belly as the reptile rolled to make its kill, jagged teeth sinking into her skin, vise-like jaws gripping and pulling her under the water until the last bit of air escaped her lungs. Then all went quiet for a second as the stillness of the bayou surrounded him and only the barest of ripples spread to the surrounding water.

The chorus of insects, momentarily silenced, began again. A fitting end, he thought. It served the cheating bitch right. She doubted very strongly that there was any central heat within the building. Too bad. For the foreseeable future, this little eighty-year-old building nestled deep in the forested foothills of the Bitterroots was going to be home, whether she liked it or not.

The air was crisp and cold, the snow crusted over and no longer falling. Not yet. She glanced behind her vehicle to what could barely be called a lane where there was the merest break in the trees, just wide enough for her rig to pass. Twin ruts broke up the pristine mantle of snow, evidence that someone was occupying the cabin. Jessica Williams, she reminded herself. Jessica Williams. The name felt uncomfortable, like a scratchy coat that rubbed her bare skin, but it had to be worn.

Before she started unloading, she broke a path to the rotting porch and trudged up the two steps. Snow had blown across the porch, a couple inches piling near the door, dark dry leaves poking up through the thin layer. She inserted her key into the lock. More trouble, she reminded herself. She tried the key and it stuck, unmoving, in the lock. She rattled it. She paid him upfront, in cash, no questions asked. She only hoped he held up his end of the bargain. With a final twist, the lock gave and she was able to push the door open.

She flipped a light switch near the door and nothing happened, so she headed back to her SUV. She found her flashlight and a roller bag that worked only so-so through the snow as she returned to the porch and the open door. Snapping on the flashlight, she swept its harsh beam over the interior that looked as if no one had been there for a decade.

It smelled musty, the air thick with dust. She ran the beam across an old love seat with faded, lumpy cushions and a scarred wooden frame. A coffee table sat in front of it and a rocker, with most of its stuffing exposed, was situated by a river rock fireplace where she suspected birds might roost in the summer.

On that she was proved wrong. There were no cabinets. Just a table near an antique wood-burning stove and an empty spot where a refrigerator, or maybe an icebox, had once stood. All the conveniences of home, which had been advertised, were sorely lacking. It seemed she might have none of the basics. She tested the toilet. A good sign. It worked and when she tested the sink, water ran through the faucet, all of it ice cold.

Good enough for tonight. She toured the rest of the cabin, which consisted of the kitchen, a bedroom, the bathroom, and a small loft tucked beneath a sloping roof. A back porch overlooked a small stream that ambled through the hemlocks and firs that lined its shores. It was nearly frozen over, just a trickle near the middle indicating that the water was still running some. There were no visible signs of a furnace, nor duct work, just a kerosene space heater tucked into a gun closet, and of course the river rock fireplace with its charred and well-used firebox.

She needed to unload the Tahoe, clean the place up if she could, dare start a fire and settle in for the night. As she walked outside again, she noticed dusk was settling in, twilight casting deep shadows across the small clearing. There was no way he could find her.

Again, she looked at the ruts her SUV had dug into the unbroken snow. The file will be sent to your email address. It may take up to minutes before you receive it. The file will be sent to your Kindle account. It may takes up to minutes before you received it. Please note : you need to verify every book you want to send to your Kindle. Check your mailbox for the verification email from Amazon Kindle. Conversion to is failed. Related Booklists. Post a Review To post a review, please sign in or sign up.

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