
Nancy Drew was never this steamy!
Instead of celebrating Memorial Day weekend on the Jersey
Shore, Jane is in the hospital surrounded by teddy bears,
trying to piece together what happened last night. One
minute she was at a party, wearing fairy wings and
cuddling with her boyfriend. The next, she was lying
near-dead in a rosebush after a hit-and-run.
Everyone believes it was an accident, despite the phone
threats Jane swears were real. But the truth is a thorny
thing. As Jane]s boyfriend, friends, and admirers come to
visit, more memories surface--not just from the party, but
from deeper in her past . . . including the night her best
friend Bonnie died.
With nearly everyone in her life a suspect now, Jane must
unravel the mystery before her killer attacks again. Along
the way, she's forced to examine the consequences of her
life choices in this compulsively readable thriller.
Excerpt βPlease, Jane,β Annie said, standing at the side of the bed,
her voice so soft and small sounding. βYou have to get all
better. You have to come home.β
She smelled like Bonne Bell lip gloss and raspberry fruit
leather. Behind her red-framed glasses her eyes were huge.
She looked wise beyond her years and like a very scared
little girl all at the same time. Fear and love and hope
stared out at me. My poor little sister. I had trouble
swallowing. βPromise?β she squeaked.
I blinked once. Yes.
The bathroom door opened and my mother and Joe emerged.
Her eyes were pink, but sheβd washed her face and, of
course, reapplied her lipstick.
βIβm so sorry, sweetheart,β she said, coming to take my
hand for the second time. How ironic that this was more than
sheβd touched me in months and because I was paralyzed I
couldnβt even feel it. Her voice trembled. βI donβt know
what came over me. Iβweβhave been so terrified. So afraid
you wouldnβt wake up or when you didββ She broke off. βI
couldnβt imagine losing you. And when the doctor said you
would be okay, when you woke up, I guess I justββ She
swallowed, dried her eyes on her sleeve. Her sleeve! βThe
pressure just exploded. I didnβt mean what I said. I know
this was just an accident, that you didnβtβdidnβt want this
to happen. But the way things have been between usβ¦And you
sneaking off to a partyβ¦IβI didnβt behave well. Iβm so very
sorry. You understand, donβt you?β
She began to sob again and Joe ducked into the bathroom,
reappearing with a Kleenex. She took it with the hand sheβd
been using to hold mine and put the other one on his arm.
I blinked once. A nice thing about not being able to
talk, I was learning, was that it spared you having to say
anything you didnβt mean.
I was spared even more by Loretta, the ICU nurse,
knocking and coming back in. She smiled at everyone,
oblivious to the tension that hung like humidity in the air,
and said, βItβs nearly visiting hours and I think someone
here could use a sponge bath. If the rest of you will excuse
us?β
Everyone filed out obediently, even Joe. Loretta, I
decided, was a woman to learn from.
She wasnβt big, but she was strong and managed to get me
out of bed and into a wheelchair. I couldnβt feel the floor,
the chair, her hands. But it wasnβt like floating. It was
terrifying, like being completely out of control. I started
to breathe fast again and she stopped what she was doing.
βLook at me, sweetheart,β she ordered.
I did.
βYouβre going to be fine .This is all temporary. Youβve
got to calm yourself down.β
Temporary, I told myself. Calm down. I nodded.
βYouβll see. Before you know it, youβll be singing and
dancing.β
My breathing started to return to normal.
βGood girl,β she said, and moved around to the side of
the chair. She unhooked monitors from my fingers. βWonβt
need most of this much longer,β she said cheerily. The IVs
stayed with me, now hanging from a hook on my right. More
tubes were gathered on the left. I was like a traveling
medical exhibit.
This is all temporary, I repeated to myself.
She pushed me into the bathroom and said, βFeast your
eyes on this five-star accommodation.β
It wasnβt bad, actually. The entire room was covered in
white tile. On one side were a toilet and a sink with a
mirror above it. On the other, separated only by a curtain
but on the same level so that you could easily move between
them in a wheelchair, was a big showerhead.
Loretta talked as she carefully undressed me. βItβs nice
to finally meet the famous Jane. You know your mother hasnβt
left your bedside since you were brought in.β She tugged the
hospital gown off my arm. βYour mother kept telling
everyone, wanted everyone to know how important it was that
you could see, get all better. βShe just has to be able to
hold a camera,β she said. βYou should see her pictures.
Sheβs a brilliant photographer.ββ
I wondered how many blinks it took to say βStop lying.β
Loretta moved me onto a bench on the shower side of the
room. She turned on the hot water, then looked around.
βSomeone took my bucket!β she said in mock horror. βYou
sit tight where you are and Iβll be right back.β
I sat there, listening to the sound of the shower and
feeling the steam begin to rise against my cheek. It smelled
like Coco Chanel in here, my motherβs perfume, and peering
around the half-open curtain I saw that sheβd left her
makeup bag on the sink. Of course, Rosalind Freeman would
never for even a moment look anything less than perfect even
where her daughter was nearly dead.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes as the small room
filled with steam. The warm, moist air felt wonderful,
almost like normal. Maybe I was going to be okay. Maybeβ
I must have dozed off. A noise roused me and I peered
past the curtain to see if it was Loretta coming back, but
no one was there, just the toilet and the mirror.
The mirror on which was written in all-capital letters,
faint but unmistakable:
YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED, BITCH
Thatβs when my voice came back in a long, gurgling scream.
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