BOOK 7

The bell above the door jingled, announcing Jackson’s departure, the sound light and gay, like the chirping of a sparrow, when it should have vibrated with the finality of a death-toll - slow and brooding. The pressure in Rachel’s chest increased, as if stone after stone were being placed there. Her lungs burned, and her skin turned hot and prickly.

She was innocent, dammit! Why wouldn’t he believe her?

She drew in a searing breath, her body filling, expanding, trembling as it drew in much needed air. She could still imagine seeing Jackson standing at the door, his lean body braced against anything she had to say, his eyes averted, unwilling even to look at her.

I’m innocent , she’d wanted to scream again and again until he believed her. But to do so would cast his suspicions elsewhere, and that she couldn’t risk. Not until she knew the truth herself. She hadn’t been the only one at each of the parties. Penny had been there as well, mingling with the guests, walking through the houses