Praise for New York Times Bestselling Author
Heather Graham
“Graham shines in this frightening tale. Paranormal elements add zing to her trademark chilling suspense and steamy romance, keeping the pages flying.”
—Romantic Times on Haunted
“Graham’s tight plotting, her keen sense of when to reveal and when to tease…will keep fans turning the pages.”
—Publishers Weekly on Picture Me Dead
“An incredible storyteller!”
—Los Angeles Daily News
“Demonstrating the skills that have made her one of today’s best storytellers, Ms. Graham delivers one of this year’s best books thus far.”
—Romantic Times on Hurricane Bay
“A suspenseful, sexy thriller…Graham builds jagged suspense that will keep readers guessing up to the final pages.”
—Publishers Weekly on Hurricane Bay
“A roller-coaster ride…fast-paced, thrilling…Heather Graham will keep you in suspense until the very end. Captivating.”
—Literary Times on Hurricane Bay
“The talented Ms. Graham once again thrills us. She delivers excitement [and] romance…that keep the pages flipping quickly from beginning to end.”
—Romantic Times on Night of the Blackbird
“With the name Heather Graham on the cover, you are guaranteed a good read!”
—Literary Times
Also by HEATHER GRAHAM
THE PRESENCE
DEAD ON THE DANCE FLOOR
HAUNTED
PICTURE ME DEAD
A SEASON OF MIRACLES
HURRICANE BAY
NIGHT OF THE BLACKBIRD
NEVER SLEEP WITH STRANGERS
EYES OF FIRE
SLOW BURN
NIGHT HEAT
Watch for the new blockbuster from
HEATHER GRAHAM
KILLING KELLY
HEATHER GRAHAM IF LOOKS COULD KILL
This one has to be for family and friends:
Dedicated with love to Victoria Graham Davant,
my sister and best friend,
because I couldn’t imagine life without her.
To Lisa Charge Alvarez,
for being the stuff of which heroines are made.
To Katie and Sam DeVuono, not only for being family,
but also for being the nicest, warmest,
most giving people in the world.
To Mary Pozzessere Durso, Auntie May,
for her unwavering support, and so I can make
absolutely sure she gets a copy of this one.
To Ginger Crosbie, for doing such a
great job of getting us all together.
And to Keith Pozzessere, for being so proud of the name,
and for always making sure that he’s part of our family.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Prologue
Madison could hear the voices coming from the bedroom, and she was afraid.
She was twelve, nearly thirteen, so it wasn’t a matter of being easily frightened, or even a matter of not knowing what went on in the world—she did. Her beautiful, volatile mother had married the equally volatile and temperamental artist Roger Montgomery, and ever since then, voices and sounds had often come from the master bedroom.
But tonight…
Something was different. It wasn’t just the usual passionate argument that was going on. They weren’t hurting accusations of infidelity at one another. There was a different voice in the room, a hushed voice….
A menacing, sexless voice that sent shivers racing along Madison’s spine. The voice was evil. Madison knew it. She told herself that she was being fanciful—that it might even be her mother’s voice, since Lainie Adair was such a highly acclaimed actress, known for her uncanny ability with accents.
But it wasn’t her mother. Madison was certain.
She knew that her mother wasn’t playing games or acting out some sex fantasy. Someone, something…evil…was in the room.
She wondered if Roger was there, as well. She didn’t know. She could hear her mother’s voice, rising, falling, a note of hysteria, of pleading, in it. Then she heard the whispered, sexless voice again. The different voice.
The evil voice.
The voice that made her skin crawl.
Without thinking, she’d come out of her own room, and now she stood in the hallway, a trembling wraith in her oversize cotton T-shirt. She moved along the hall, anxious to reach her mother, but at the same time afraid. She’d never been afraid this way. She could watch the most gruesome horror movie without flinching; she was always willing to accept a reckless dare. She had defied the very real possibility of monsters in the closet or under her bed as a young child, telling herself that she simply wouldn’t be afraid. The darkness didn’t frighten her; she wouldn’t allow it to.
But tonight…
Oh, God, she was terrified. It was the voice. That voice, with its undercurrent of sibilant, menacing evil. The hallway seemed to be a million miles long, though it couldn’t have been more than forty feet from her doorway to her mother’s. The harder she tried to make herself move, the more weighed down she seemed to be. Fear constricted her throat, so she couldn’t cry out, and yet she knew that she shouldn’t cry out, that she couldn’t let the voice know she was coming.