Deep Freeze (West Coast 1) - Page 9

“I don’t like that he seems to have some kind of control over you, that you’d do anything to be with him. That he talks you into lying to me.”

“I don’t—”

“Ah-ah. If I were you, Cassie, I’d quit while you’re ahead, or at least while you’re not too far behind.”

But Cassie’s temper had sparked and she was suddenly defiant. “You don’t like any of my friends,” she accused, “not since we moved up here, so it’s your fault. I never wanted to come.”

That much was true. Both of her daughters had had fits about her decision to leave L.A. behind and seek out some kind of peace and normalcy in this quiet little town perched on the rocky shores of the Columbia River in Oregon. Jenna had heard the complaints for a year and a half. “That’s old news. We’re here, Cassie, and we’re all going to make the best of it.”

“I’m trying.”

“With Josh.”

“Yeah. With Josh.” Rebellion flashed in Cassie’s eyes.

“To punish me.”

“No,” Cassie said slowly, her jaw setting. “Believe it or not, this isn’t about you, for once. Okay? If I wanted to ‘punish’ you, I’d go back to California and live with Dad.”

“Is that what you want?” Jenna felt as

if she’d been sucker-punched, but she didn’t show any emotion, didn’t want to let Cassie know that she’d hit a very strong and painful nerve.

“I just want someone to trust me, okay?”

“Trust is earned, Cassie,” she said, and inwardly cringed as she realized she was echoing words she’d heard from her own mother years before.

Jenna bit her tongue rather than start in on that one. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” She snapped off the lamp and heard Cassie’s footsteps trudge up the stairs. I’m turning into my mother, she thought, and refused to let her mind wander too far in that frightening direction. “Come on, Critter,” she said to the dog as she relocked the door and started up the flight of stairs to the second story. Her bedroom was halfway up the stairs, just off the landing, the girls’ another half a flight higher. “Let’s go to bed.” The old dog padded behind, his gait slowed by arthritis. Jenna waited for him at the landing and heard Cassie’s door shut with a quiet thud. “We’re finally all safe and sound.” And you have to get up in two and a half hours. Inwardly groaning at the thought, she turned the final set of stairs, but from the corner of her eye, through the landing’s stained-glass window, she caught a glimpse of something.

Movement?

Her own pale reflection?

Critter growled softly, and Jenna’s muscles went rigid. “Shh,” she said, but squinted through the colored glass, searching the distorted image of the yard and outbuildings of her ranch—“the compound,” as Cassie referred to it. Security lamps glowed an eerie blue, casting pools of light on the barn, stable, and sheds. The old windmill creaked, its blades turning slowly as it stood, a wooden skeleton, near the lane. The main gate gaped open, the result of the lock freezing and snow piling up around the gateposts. The lane leading to the gate was empty—no rumble of a car or truck engine cutting through the night.

Still, the forested hills and craggy banks of the river were dark and shrouded, the cloudy night a perfect cover…

For whom?

Don’t be silly.

Surely no one was lurking in the wintry shadows.

Of course not.

The worst-case scenario would be that Josh Sykes was still hanging around, hiding behind the corner of the barn, maybe hoping to follow Cassie inside.

Right?

Nothing more sinister than a horny boyfriend hiding near the barn.

The old dog growled again.

“Hush,” Jenna said as she turned into the double doors that opened to her master suite, a cozy set of rooms that she shared with no one.

She’d moved to this isolated spot on the Columbia River for peace of mind, so she’d ignore the knot of dread in her stomach. She was just edgy and out of sorts because her teenager was giving her fits. That’s all.

And yet as she stepped into her darkened bedroom, she couldn’t shake the sensation that something was about to happen.

Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery
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