Amy Wallace, responsible for her twin sister's death, now suspects Abby, is alive. Attorney Jenny Devlin is enlisted by Amy's uncle to investigate if his niece is hallucinating. Jenny and a neighbor soon realize Abby may be very much alive and out for revenge. The more they uncover, the more they put themselves in the sights of a killer.
Is Abby alive and seeking to claim her rights to a sizable trust? Can Jenny and Brad's relationship blossom into something permanent? Will Jenny and Brad be able to solve the puzzle before it's too late for them all to survive?
I moved cautiously down the narrow path keeping a close eye out for poison ivy or oak. I was highly allergic to both and didn’t want to spend any time covered in calamine lotion. Insects circled and swarmed around my head. I kept busy chasing them away with impatient hand gestures.
The trail followed a fairly straight line. Would animals do this or would they tend to meander more? Not being much of a nature lover, I had no clue.
I broke out of the woods. Before me stood a dilapidated cabin and what was left of a yard. The trees shaded the plot and a thick mat of old leaves substituted for grass. A gap in the trees to my right showed the remains of the steps to the dock. I had no intention of testing them. They were probably rotting.
The cabin appeared intact although the roof had a wavy appearance as if some of the sheathing had rotted. The curled shingles reminded me of a bizarre feathery hairdo.
I slapped at a mosquito on my cheek as I made my way to the front of the place and mounted the porch steps. They creaked and groaned under my weight, but held. Dirt and grime covered the windows, so I tried the door. It opened on squeaky protesting hinges. I stepped inside.
The cabin was still furnished and stank of mold. I’d rather die than sit on either the sofa or the chairs. Apparently, someone else wasn’t so discerning. A sleeping bag was rolled up on the floor next to the sofa. A glance toward the kitchen area showed several cans of food on the counter both open and unopened. Flies buzzed around the rims of the opened ones.
My arms broke out in goosebumps. Someone was living here, although not home at the moment. I needed to get the hell out and call the police.
I whirled and ran out the front door not bothering to even close it behind me. The thought of returning to that narrow pathway gave me the shivers. I headed straight for the neglected driveway. This was little more than an overgrown path, too. The deep ruts made walking difficult, so I moved to the side trying to avoid the roots of trees and vines that had encroached for years. A tree had fallen ages ago blocking access. Getting a car up this thing would be impossible.
I stepped over the fallen tree, and then stopped. There in the dirt were several faint tire tracks. I stooped to inspect them closer. Behind me a twig snapped and footsteps rushed toward me.
Before I could rise and turn, pain exploded in my head. I toppled over as my world went black.
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