(Book 3 of the Outer Banks Series-Read as a series, or enjoy each book alone.)

Blurb:

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Jenny is different. She can read people’s minds.
 
At age seventeen, Jenny Reid was arrested for killing her own mother. There was no evidence that an intruder entered the house. No one believed her as a teenager when she tried to tell them how she felt the killer’s rage saturated within the walls, that she knew the presence of evil had been there. The police thought she was crazy, not psychic.
 
A conviction was never made in the case due to lack of evidence. Jenny is still the sole suspect, but now, she is doing something about it. She’s on the right side of the law, an FBI agent determined to finally find justice for her mom.
 
Two men stay by her side—William, her partner, a darkly intense agent with a scary past and Nate, a bad boy with too much charisma to be a good thing. But, no man will keep her from finding out the truth about her mom. The time has come to set things right.
 
Nothing will stand in her way. She’ll come up close with evil again and face the ultimate choice—kill or be killed in these ACCELERATING CIRCUMSTANCES.

Excerpt:

   She didn’t remember telling the operator that she needed help, but she must have because the 9-1-1 dispatcher told her she needed to stay on the line until help arrived. Time held no meaning. People arrived, whether minutes or hours later, she had no idea.

    Jenny placed the phone back on the receiver and physically dropped. The sofa was behind her and caught her, but she would have sat whether there was furniture there or not. She stared blankly at the wall, seeing nothing. The house got busy around her, people walking in and out. Lots of talking, lots of work.

     Someone asked her if she needed anything. She said no. They told her to stay right there, and she did.

   Jenny didn’t call anyone else—not her dad, not her sister, no one. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. It felt like the room was closing in on her.

     Her mom was dead. She hadn’t seen a body, but she knew. She knew.

     Two men detached from the hustle and bustle to walk up to her. “My name is Detective Evans. My partner is Detective Crouse. We’ve contacted your dad. It will be a few hours before he can get here. May we ask you some questions?”

        Jenny tried to focus. The detective that spoke was older with a deep receding hairline and clear piercing eyes. The other was an average middle-aged man that looked bored with his job. Both men stared at her.

        She didn’t know what they were thinking or feeling. Her gift was strongest with touch. Regardless, it wouldn’t work now anyway. She couldn’t focus! She couldn’t think!

        “Okay,” she said, her voice deadpan.

        “Do you get along with your parents?” Detective Evans asked as he took a seat beside her.

        “I guess.”

        “The neighbors didn’t seem to think so,” he commented.

        Too numb, too distanced right then, she didn’t immediately realize where the detective’s question was leading, but she wanted to cooperate. She needed to think about anything other than the horror in the room upstairs. What did Detective Evans ask, again? How she got along with Mom and Dad?

  How could she possibly explain her situation? Most teenagers just thought their parents didn’t understand them. Well, Jenny really knew for a fact that they didn’t.

        “Your sister is at school, and your dad is away on business, right?” Detective Evans continued.

        “Yeah.”

        “What happened here last night?”

        “I don’t know. I was sleeping,” she said, still deadpan. This can’t be real. She couldn’t keep her thoughts from all the blood she’d seen. Then: “Mom’s dead, isn’t she?”

        The detectives gave each other a look she didn’t understand.

        She sniffed, feeling another round of sobs bursting to the surface. The house suddenly felt too small, too stifling, choking her with its intensity. Why didn’t anyone understand? A cry exploded from her, and she blurted it all out in such a rush that later, she wouldn’t remember saying anything at all. “There’s so much hate! Can’t you feel it? Don’t you see? No one could hate her so much!”

        Detective Evans cleared his throat.

        “Is that why you hurt your mom? You hate her?” Detective Crouse suddenly asked, his voice stern. He no longer looked bored.

        Jenny should have been stunned by the question, but she was in shock. She said nothing. Her eyes fell to her lap as she continued to cry.

        “Answer the question,” Evans demanded.

        “I didn’t hurt her,” she managed between sobs.

        “We know that’s not possible,” Evans said. “There’s no sign of forced entry. The murder weapon was a knife from your kitchen. Come on, Jenny. You didn’t plan this out very well. You really want us to believe you slept through that mess upstairs? You’re covered in blood. There are bloody footprints all over the place. Your footprints. You hated her, like you said. You guys had an argument of some sort, so you got rid of her.” He stood and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Stand up. You are under arrest for the murder of Savannah Rice.”

        As she was recited her rights and handcuffed, Jenny looked at her feet. He was right, she realized. She had blood all over her.

        The room blurred around her, and she fainted.