Lisa Jackson - The Life and Death of Lauren Conway: A Companion to Without Mercy

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LAUREN CONWAY

By

Lisa Jackson

Published by Zebra Books
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Copyright Susan Lisa Jackson, 2011
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Excerpt from
WITHOUT MERCY

Seattle, Washington
Late March

Drip, drip, drip.

Rain fell from the night-dark sky, splashing against the window.

Be careful what you wish for

Jules twisted on the bed, sheets curled around her legs. Sleep, as ever, was elusive. Her headache thundered through her brain, pounding in counterpoint to the steady plop of raindrops.

because you just might get it.

Wasnt that the truth? How long had she prayed her parents would find their way back to each other? Now that her prayers had been answered Dear God, what a catastrophe!

Refusing to dwell on the disaster that was Edie and Rip Delaneys remarriage, Jules opened an eye to stare at the clock. One fifty-seven.

Oh, God. Squeezing her eyes shut again, she groaned and rolled over on the twin bed that had been hers for as long as she could remember. Only five hours until she had to get up. Oh, God, why couldnt she sleep? Why could she never sleep?

Drip, drip, drip.

Her headache raged with a migraine and the damned rain only made it worse. She cringed and remembered the huge final in English Lit that loomed over her. She hadnt read one of the stack of books that had been assigned at the beginning of the term, not a solitary one. What had she been thinking? She was a good student and now she wasnt ready

The world seemed crashing in on her tonight. She should just bite the bullet, roll out of the warm bed and try to studyread some Sparks Notes on the Internet. Anything! What was it Shakespeare and Milton or George Orwell oh, she couldnt remember. What was wrong with her? Shed known the test was tomorrow. She should have dropped the damned class.

Stupid girl, she thought. All shed wanted was her divorced parents to get back together, to remarry, to make the family whole again. And shed gotten her most fervent wish. Her mother Edwina, Edie, had exchanged vows with Rip Delaney for the second time just a months ago or had it been years? Jules couldnt remember now in the middle of the night. She was so tired; weary to the marrow of her bones.

The medication its the medication that makes your brain fill with quicksand. Thats why you feel like youre sliding deeper and deeper into the mire

Drip, drip, drip.

Damn the rain! Her eyes flew open again and she looked a the window, but no drops drizzled down the panes and if she listened hard she couldnt hear the gurgle of water splashing in the gutters or running through the rusting downspouts. All she heard was the rapid beating of her own heart.

The storm had either passed or hadnt existed. Maybe shed just imagined it; thats what happened with the medication she took for the migraines. She mixed up fact with fiction, couldnt grasp reality, at least not at night.

She threw off the covers, her feet landing on the bare floor.

God, it was freezing.

Floorboards creaked as she walked to the window and stared downward, outside to the yard, where, bathed in moon glow, the grounds appeared serene, not even a breath of wind playing through the branches of the willow tree.

But someone was outside. She felt eyes upon her hidden eyes. Something was wrong tonight.

Very wrong. Dread inched its way up her spine and she searched the grounds from her second story room, her gaze scraping along the dead grass and skeletal trees that surrounded her parents once-upon-a-time mansion.

She caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye a black shadow passing beneath the naked limbs of the willow tree, moving swiftly through the night.

Her heart clutched.

She leaned closer to the panes, her nose touching the cool glass, one hand placed on the sill.

Far below, he turned suddenly, as if feeling the weight of her stare. He gazed upward, his face illuminated by the moon.

Oh, God!

His features became clear: Deep set eyes, bladed cheekbones, strong jaw covered with beard shadow. Oh, sweet Jesus. It couldnt be.

Cooper?

Her heart went wild, wrenching painfully. Of all the people to show up here in the middle of the night! Why would Cooper Trent be out skulking about in the shadows, winter chasing him as he turned and ran Hadnt she told him that shed never wanted to see him again? Hadnt he all too easily followed her edict and disappeared from her life so why the hell was he here now? And why did she know deep in her heart that whatever the reason hed returned, it wasnt good. He had no way of knowing that shed damned herself every day in the months since their last fight for breaking up with him, but her pride had kept her from reaching out to him.

So why was he back?

She rubbed her eyes.

His image, like smoke, had disappeared.

Good!

Right?

Drip, drip, drip .

What was that noise?

Then she got it. For the love of God, someone hadnt twisted off the faucet in the bathroom! That was it. The seal or O-ring or whatever it was had probably worn through and whoever had used the faucet last probably hadnt twisted the handle hard enough to completely stop the flow. Rip would have to fix the damned thing, or call a plumber.

Without bothering with her robe, Jules headed out of room and along the narrow hallway to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Beneath the door, an eerie strip of light glowed, wavering as a shadow passed on the other side.

Her sister.

Of course!

Shay, she whispered against the old oak panels. Hey, turn off the water!

No one answered.

She tapped softly with one knuckle. Anyone in there?

No response.

Maybe her sister had left the light on. Kind of like a night light. Though she would never admit it, twelve-year-old Shay was sometimes scared of the dark.

And sometimes she was more than scared, she was terrified.

Jules didnt blame her.

Terror was all too familiar to them both.

Twisting the glass knob, Jules pushed hard on the door. It opened a crack, then caught, stopped by the loose chain latch and allowing Jules a glimpse inside, to the vanity, a strip of the cracked mirror and her own pale, slightly skewed reflection. Big, haunted eyes, untamed hair, sallow complexion and dark circles beneath her eyes that indicated just how little sleep shed been able to find in the past months reflected back at her.

Shay? she whispered through the opening.

The toilet area wasnt visible from Juless vantage point, but there was another entrance to the bathroom from the guest room. Shay, are you in there? Jules asked again, pressing her eye to the crack. She saw no one, but noticed that her mothers hair brush was resting near the sink and that the vanity faucet, just under the mirror wasnt leaking.

The tap was dry as a bone.

But something was wrong. The usually spotless tile surrounding Edies pride and joy, an antique claw foot bathtub with an arched shower neck and head, showed beads of water, as if the pink tiles were sweating.

Or someone had recently showered.

On edge, she closed the door and tiptoed through the spare room to the door to the bathroom. She always felt like a trespasser when she crept along the fringed edge of a faded, patterned rug and past the big brass bed, one that had supposedly belonged to Edies great grandmother. Now, no one slept in it. Ever. Juless mother changed the sheets religiously, every Saturday morning, but the percale bed linens with their floral print were fading from too much laundry soap and over agitation in the washer, not from bodies either sleeping or making love.