Killer Moves: The 4th Jolene Jackson Mystery (Jolene Jackson Mysteries) Read Free

whatever I needed, including a whole computer store apparently. Well, maybe…possibly. “Oh, hell, I really have no idea how much money there is and if or when I will have access to it. And that is exactly why I have avoided thinking about any of it.”
    Before I continued talking to myself, I grabbed my purse and a duffel bag that I’d efficiently packed with everything I would need for the night, locked the car and headed toward the house.
    Light flashed and flooded the area.
    I screamed and jumped, then remembered. “Damn, motion detectors!”
    The lights were not a new addition. I’d bought them and installed them myself not long ago. So why was my heart racing like a scared rabbit? “Oh, I know,” I said, opening the back porch door. “It’s because there’s usually good reason to be scared around here.”
    But it wasn’t really that—well, it wasn’t just that. I was on edge for a lot of different reasons, none of which I could really do anything about at the moment. However, what I could do was get myself inside the house, try to semi-relax and possibly even sleep at some point.
    After making my way through the back porch, I unlocked the interior door and pushed it open. A thick wall of hot stale air rolled over me. I hit the lights, made a beeline for the thermostat on the wall in the kitchen and turned on the air conditioner. The unit clicked on and the fan whirred to life. After an initial blast of heat, cool air began to pour down from the overhead vent. So did an eerie feeling that I couldn’t define.
    I’ve been in my mother’s house alone many times, of course, including a few days ago when I’d locked it up to head home. There had been so much going on then that I had been on autopilot. But coming in here tonight without her here, the house closed up and unlived in, was just plain giving me the creeps. Of course, it didn’t help that the last time I’d been here alone at night—because Mother Dearest had dumped me to go on a date—I’d wound up having a very bad time. Bad as in a kidnapping, a high-speed chase on back roads in the dark and terrifying gunfire—in this case, the gunfire happened to be mine, but I want it duly noted that I was badgered into it. Things didn’t get much better at the police station either, but that’s another story.
    All the unpleasant and near-fatal memories I’d collected here in the last year were more than enough to make me jittery, but this was different, sad, almost like a flash-forward into the future when I would have to deal with all of this alone—when she was really gone. I scolded myself for even having such a thought, because, as I’ve said repeatedly, I am certain the woman will outlive me by a decade at the very least.
    Still feeling unsettled, I locked the doors and checked the windows. I also checked inside the closets and under the beds, but it didn’t help me shake off the odd feeling that had started building when I’d turned off the main highway toward Kickapoo. Foreboding was the only name I could put to it, which didn’t fit exactly, but it was disconcerting enough that I stopped searching for a better one. It also took me from falling down exhausted to wide-eyed and nervous. I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.
    The air conditioner had cooled the house enough that the prospect of a hot bath seemed potentially relaxing, so I grabbed the appropriate bag and headed that direction. The hot water did help, but the uneasy feeling was still there. Deciding a snack was always a good and comforting option, I headed to the kitchen.
    I made a cursory look in the refrigerator just in case some decent food had miraculously appeared there in the time I’d been gone—it hadn’t. Lucille rarely cooked, but she was darned certain to have munchies stashed somewhere. After a little rustling around, I found a box of cheese crackers I would regret eating and closed the cabinet. Then, I jerked it back open.
    Had I just seen what I thought I had?