someone.
But that didn’t change the fact that he was out of gas. He knew he should have invested in an AAA membership, but it was one of those things he hadn’t gotten around to yet.
Swearing, he pulled over to the side of the road before the engine sputtered out completely. Luckily, he was only a couple of miles from the next exit and a gas station.
Dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb. He swore at himself as he got out of the car, careful to lock the door behind himself. He loved his Mary, and he didn’t want anyone stealing her.
He thought about hitchhiking, then decided he might as well just walk, seeing as there weren’t many other cars on the highway anyway. A quiet night all around, he supposed.
He walked for half a mile, humming to himself to keep from cursing aloud at his own stupidity.
There were lights behind him, but hell, this was a highway. He paused and turned, thinking about trying to flag down the driver and bum a ride after all.
He knew he was still on the shoulder, but it seemed as if the car was coming straight toward him. He raised his hands against the blinding glare, wondering what kind of idiot was driving.
The lights grew brighter as the car drew closer. It must have been doing at least eighty.
And it was coming right at him.
He never screamed.
And he never suffered.
He didn’t even have time for a dying thought.
Morning.
Light seeping into her bedroom woke Jessy, and she opened her eyes slowly, afraid of what she might see.
The clock ticked away time on the bedside table. The dream catcher that Timothy had bought her when she was a child, beautifully crafted and dotted with beads and crystals, hung from the dressing-table mirror, just catching the first glints of day.
She was alone.
And still…
It was eerie, waking up with the sensation of being observed.
“You are not being watched,” she told herself firmly. “You are in danger of becoming paranoid.”
She’d been dreaming, she knew, though she couldn’t remember the specifics. She did know that people had been watching her in the dream.
No, not people.
Tanner Green.
She needed to get a life and quit obsessing, she told herself. Sex . That was what Sandra would tell her she needed. A red-hot relationship with a real-life man. She actually laughed as she got out of bed, wondering if a bout of good old-fashioned sex could make her stop seeing a ghost.
If so, she might have to jump the first stranger she ran into on the street.
God, no, her situation wasn’t that bad, was it?
She was, she admitted, actually attracted, both physically and mentally, to Dillon Wolf. Maybe if she…
No, she would not go there. Eyes straight ahead, that was the ticket. No thoughts of Dillon Wolf—and no ghosts, either.
She got ready early and left the house, suddenlyanxious to be around other people. Her first stop, as it almost always was, would be breakfast with Timothy.
He greeted her as if he was totally in control of all his faculties, which in fact he was at times. The news was on, and the anchor was talking about the murder at the Sun, then cut away to an interview with a couple who had been in the casino at the time. Jessy was surprised to see her favorite gambler on camera, Coot Calhoun, accompanied by his silver-haired wife, Minnie.
“It was like nothing I ever saw before,” Coot said, his Texas accent as broad as always. “Feller just plowed in out of nowhere and fell flat on the table, taking that pretty young thing down with him.”
“And you didn’t see where he came from?” the interviewer asked.
“No, ma’am. Nothing at all. Feller just plowed through the crowd and died right there on top of that poor girl.”
“Was she a friend of his? Maybe a girlfriend?” the interviewer pressed.
“Not that I know about,” Coot said.
“So you know the woman?”
Jessy felt her muscles tense, fear clamping around her throat. But Coot was a gentleman, to the bone.
“No, ma’am, I never met her before that night. I just
But that didn’t change the fact that he was out of gas. He knew he should have invested in an AAA membership, but it was one of those things he hadn’t gotten around to yet.
Swearing, he pulled over to the side of the road before the engine sputtered out completely. Luckily, he was only a couple of miles from the next exit and a gas station.
Dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb. He swore at himself as he got out of the car, careful to lock the door behind himself. He loved his Mary, and he didn’t want anyone stealing her.
He thought about hitchhiking, then decided he might as well just walk, seeing as there weren’t many other cars on the highway anyway. A quiet night all around, he supposed.
He walked for half a mile, humming to himself to keep from cursing aloud at his own stupidity.
There were lights behind him, but hell, this was a highway. He paused and turned, thinking about trying to flag down the driver and bum a ride after all.
He knew he was still on the shoulder, but it seemed as if the car was coming straight toward him. He raised his hands against the blinding glare, wondering what kind of idiot was driving.
The lights grew brighter as the car drew closer. It must have been doing at least eighty.
And it was coming right at him.
He never screamed.
And he never suffered.
He didn’t even have time for a dying thought.
Morning.
Light seeping into her bedroom woke Jessy, and she opened her eyes slowly, afraid of what she might see.
The clock ticked away time on the bedside table. The dream catcher that Timothy had bought her when she was a child, beautifully crafted and dotted with beads and crystals, hung from the dressing-table mirror, just catching the first glints of day.
She was alone.
And still…
It was eerie, waking up with the sensation of being observed.
“You are not being watched,” she told herself firmly. “You are in danger of becoming paranoid.”
She’d been dreaming, she knew, though she couldn’t remember the specifics. She did know that people had been watching her in the dream.
No, not people.
Tanner Green.
She needed to get a life and quit obsessing, she told herself. Sex . That was what Sandra would tell her she needed. A red-hot relationship with a real-life man. She actually laughed as she got out of bed, wondering if a bout of good old-fashioned sex could make her stop seeing a ghost.
If so, she might have to jump the first stranger she ran into on the street.
God, no, her situation wasn’t that bad, was it?
She was, she admitted, actually attracted, both physically and mentally, to Dillon Wolf. Maybe if she…
No, she would not go there. Eyes straight ahead, that was the ticket. No thoughts of Dillon Wolf—and no ghosts, either.
She got ready early and left the house, suddenlyanxious to be around other people. Her first stop, as it almost always was, would be breakfast with Timothy.
He greeted her as if he was totally in control of all his faculties, which in fact he was at times. The news was on, and the anchor was talking about the murder at the Sun, then cut away to an interview with a couple who had been in the casino at the time. Jessy was surprised to see her favorite gambler on camera, Coot Calhoun, accompanied by his silver-haired wife, Minnie.
“It was like nothing I ever saw before,” Coot said, his Texas accent as broad as always. “Feller just plowed in out of nowhere and fell flat on the table, taking that pretty young thing down with him.”
“And you didn’t see where he came from?” the interviewer asked.
“No, ma’am. Nothing at all. Feller just plowed through the crowd and died right there on top of that poor girl.”
“Was she a friend of his? Maybe a girlfriend?” the interviewer pressed.
“Not that I know about,” Coot said.
“So you know the woman?”
Jessy felt her muscles tense, fear clamping around her throat. But Coot was a gentleman, to the bone.
“No, ma’am, I never met her before that night. I just
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