Her Last Day (Jessie Cole #1)(57)

Jessie started to stand up.

Colin pointed a finger at her and gave her one of his looks. “Don’t even think about it.”



Ben stood on the dirt road, looking down over the edge of the same steep slope where first responders had found him unconscious ten years ago. According to the police report, the weather had been extraordinarily warm then, as it was now. Ben had escaped the burning vehicle, but not before suffering third-degree burns over more than half his body. He’d also ended up with broken ribs, multiple fractures in his foot and legs, and a traumatic brain injury.

Beyond the hill was a steep embankment, a ravine full of trees with lots of dry, overgrown brush and weeds. A thick tangle of vigorously growing blackberry shrubs covered much of the land. They appeared so unruly, he wondered if he would have survived had he rolled past the tree and into the gorge.

He looked at the skull ring on his finger. He’d been wearing it since he’d met with Leanne Baxter. He closed his eyes and saw the same image as before—a hand, flesh melting off bone, splayed fingers, the ring. He waited for the sharp pain in his head that usually accompanied the images.

Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes. Still nothing. Ever since talking to Leanne, he’d been having a difficult time coming to terms with the truth. Vernon Doherty, the driver on the night of Ben’s crash, was the same man who had followed Sophie as she exited the Wild West. And that meant Ben had to be “the other man” Leanne had seen that night.

The notion greatly disturbed him.

For ten years he’d tried to find a connection between himself, Vernon Doherty, and the stolen car, but he’d ended up with nothing. Thanks to his wife and his therapist, he’d finally been able to let the matter go and move on with his life. But seeing Sophie Cole on TV had changed everything. And standing here now, he had new questions: What had really happened that night ten years ago? Why had he been at the Wild West, and what the hell had happened to Sophie Cole?

Ben stepped forward, heading farther down the hill, hoping to conjure images from that night. He slid most of the way down, kicking up dust and dirt, until he made it to the oak. From there he had a better view of the ravine and the brown hills and trees beyond.

He stood there for a good long while.

But nothing came to him.

Not until he started the trek back up and found himself on his knees when the slope became too steep. He grabbed on to a clump of weeds to help him gain traction, and that was when it hit him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, waited for the pain to subside, but that didn’t happen. The pain grew in intensity, forcing him to roll onto his back, the palms of his hands clutching both sides of his head.

And there she was, plain as day.

Sophie Cole.

She was kneeling on the ground, hovering over someone. When she looked up at him, her beauty took him aback—flawless skin, piercing eyes, thick, shiny hair. She didn’t appear to be worried about the person lying on the ground, just curiously surprised. Her head tilted slightly, and she said, “I think he’s dead.”



Five minutes after leaving Jessie, Colin was climbing out of his car in front of Andriana’s house in East Sacramento. There were three cruisers at the scene. A uniformed police officer joined him and walked at his side. “It looks like the suspect came through the garage door at the side of the house. No fingerprints. We’re in the process of canvasing the neighborhood for witnesses.”

Colin nodded. “Where is she?”

“Inside. Ren is with her.”

Colin found Andriana in the living room, sitting on a vintage purple-velvet love seat. Ren Howe, rookie investigator and pain-in-the-ass kid who wouldn’t know tact if it bit him on the nose, saw him coming and met him halfway.

Ren’s father worked for the FBI, which had allowed Ren to skip more than a few years of training, making him an easy target for officers who felt as if they were overlooked for the investigative position. It didn’t help that Ren seemed to be oblivious to anyone who had a problem with his speedy climb to the top. “She didn’t want to talk to anyone but you,” Ren said with a long sigh.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Ren gave a half shrug. “No, I guess not.”

“Good.” Colin had been to the house many times before. Andriana and Jessie had been friends for as long as he’d known Jessie. He looked around, wondering where her ten-year-old son was as he walked across the living room.

He leaned down and gave Andriana a quick hug. Her tangle of red hair was all over the place. A thin red line of dried blood made a path down one side of her face, ending just past her earlobe.

“Where’s Dylan?”

“Thankfully,” she said, “he spent the night at a friend’s last night. He has no idea what happened, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Colin pulled out a notebook. “Why don’t you start from the beginning, and tell me everything you remember.”

She nodded, then relayed her story: It was Saturday. She slept in until seven, then spent the cooler part of the morning doing some gardening in her backyard. She came back inside about ten or ten thirty and made herself an egg on toast. An hour later, she heard a loud crash that sounded as if it had come from upstairs. Thinking a picture had fallen from a wall, she took a look around upstairs but found nothing out of the ordinary. When she returned to the main floor, a man dressed in black from head to toe stood at the bottom of the stairs. She pivoted, tried to run, but he struck her over the head, gagged her, and dragged her to the dining room, where he used duct tape to secure her to a heavy wooden chair.