Page 141 of Wicked Ways (Wicked)

When Rex and Elizabeth returned they brought with them a curly, black squirming puppy that Chloe squealed over and promptly named Bentley, the name of the black shepherd from one of her favorite television shows, even though the new puppy was a female.

Ready to leave, Ravinia walked outside, and there he was! A ghostly silver shadow padding across the neighbor’s yard. He turned to stare at her for a moment, his yellow eyes glowing, and then he moved away. She was so overwhelmed with relief she almost cried . . . almost. . . as tears were generally for people who couldn’t contain their emotions and that wasn’t Ravinia.

Rex and Elizabeth walked out together. He kissed her gently on the lips before she stepped back inside her house and waved a good-bye at them. The tender moment made Ravinia uncomfortable and kind of happy, too. She was a third wheel, no doubt about it, but once in the car Rex tossed a small booklet in her lap along with some other papers.

“We start driving lessons tomorrow,” he said, as she clutched the booklet close.

For the first time in her life, Ravinia felt truly positive about the future. She was on the right path and absolutely nothing could go wrong.

On Sunday, under the cover of darkness, his physical scars finally healed, Declan Jr. slipped across the border from the wilds of Canada and into Washington State. With blood on his mind and vengeance in his heart, he picked up the signals, thin and weak, that were coming his way. It wasn’t his bastard brother trying to get inside his head, it was someone else. Someone a thousand miles or more away . . . a woman who might be needing a little bit of what only Good Time Charlie could give. He could see himself mounting her already, pumping hard, making her scream with ecstasy . . . one of those silvery blond bitches he hated so much.

They thought they’d killed him. Damn near had, but he wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot.

Standing in the center of Podunk, USA, he looked around for any kind of transportation, even a bike would do. Just something that would take him first to Seattle, then Portland, then Sacramento . . . then Los Angeles . . . or maybe San Diego? Somewhere down there she was waiting.

Church bells suddenly rang out, a terrible clanging sound that raked through his brain and made him want to scream. When they finally stopped and he lifted his hands from his ears, he realized that it was Sunday.

Sunday is a day of rest, he thought, then his lips curved into a hard smile.

Or is it?

HOME

Along the shores of Oregon’s wild Columbia River, the Victorian mansion where Sarah McAdams grew up is as foreboding as she remembers. The moment she and her two daughters, Jade and Gracie, pull up the isolated drive, Sarah is beset by uneasy memories—of her cold, distant mother, of the half sister who vanished without a trace, and of a long-ago night when Sarah was found on the widow’s walk, feverish and delirious.

IS WHERE

But Sarah has vowed to make a fresh start and renovate the old place. Between tending to her girls and the run-down property, she has little time to dwell on the past . . . until a new, more urgent menace enters the picture.

THE FEAR IS

One by one, teenage girls are disappearing. Frantic for her daughters’ safety, Sarah feels the house’s walls closing in on her again. Somewhere deep in her memory is the key to a very real and terrifying danger. And only by confronting her most terrifying fears can she stop the nightmare roaring back to life once more . . .

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of

Lisa Jackson’s

CLOSE TO HOME,

now on sale wherever print and eBooks are sold!

Chapter 1

October 15, 2014

Blue Peacock Manor

“God, Mom, you’ve got to be kidding!” Jade said from the passenger seat of the Explorer as Sarah drove along the once-gravel lane.

“Not kidding,” Sarah responded. “You know that.” Winding through thick stands of pine, fir, and cedar, the twin ruts were weed-choked and filled with potholes that had become puddles with the recent rain.

“You can’t actually think that we can live here!” Catching glimpses of the huge house through the trees, Jade, seventeen, was clearly horrified and, as usual, wasn’t afraid to voice her opinion.

“Mom’s serious,” Gracie said from the backseat, where she was crammed between piles of blankets, and mounds of comforters, sleeping bags, and the other bedding they were moving from Vancouver. “She told us.”

Jade shot a glance over her shoulder. “I know. But it’s worse than I thought.”

“That’s impossible,” Gracie said.

---