MANIPULATED BY A KILLER
“I know that I sure as hell didn’t write that letter to you, but circumstantial evidence points to me,” Reed said. “Maybe whoever sent it wants you to think I’m the person who wrote it.”
“But why?”
“To get me in trouble.”
Ella rose to her feet but quickly realized her mistake. Reed didn’t move out of her way, so only inches separated her body from his. She felt his heat, smelled his sweat, heard his in-drawn breath when his leg accidentally brushed against hers. Or had it been accidental?
“Why—why would someone want to get you in trouble?”
“If I get in big enough trouble, I go back to the pen.” Did Reed sway slightly toward her or did she lean into him? Only a hairbreadth separated them now. “Whoever really killed Junior Blalock doesn’t want me to stay free, doesn’t want me snooping around trying to find out the truth.”
For a split second, she thought he was going to kiss her. She froze to the spot, unable to move, unable to breathe. You don’t want him to kiss you, do you? The shock of realizing that yes, she did want him to kiss her, motivated her self-preservation instincts. Maybe Reed Conway fascinated her in a way no other man ever had. Maybe the aura of danger and machismo that was such an intrinsic part of him aroused some primitive female need within her. But she was an intelligent, cautious woman who knew better than to succumb to baser instincts….
Books by Beverly Barton
AFTER DARK
EVERY MOVE SHE MAKES
WHAT SHE DOESN’T KNOW
THE FIFTH VICTIM
THE LAST TO DIE
AS GOOD AS DEAD
KILLING HER SOFTLY
CLOSE ENOUGH TO KILL
Published by Zebra Books
Beverly Barton
EVERY MOVE SHE MAKES
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
To my daughter, Badiema Beaver Waldrep,
and my son, Brant Beaver, who have filled
my life with joy and given me countless
reasons to be a very proud mother
Contents
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Chapter 1
He had been waiting fifteen years for this day and nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to ruin it for him. Not the guard’s smart-ass farewell comment. Not the drizzling rain. And not the fear that clutched his stomach like a giant fist. If he made a mistake and broke their rules, they’d send him back here to Donaldson. He had to play it smart, be careful, and make sure he didn’t get caught doing anything illegal. But come hell or high water, when he got home he was going to prove a few things to some people, starting with Webb Porter, the man he held responsible for ruining his life.
As a prisoner, he had proven to them that he could be a model inmate, a reformed character who was remorseful for his past sins. If he hadn’t messed up so badly those first couple of years, he’d have been out of this place long before now. But at eighteen, he’d been a stupid punk, filled with hatred and rage. The hatred and rage were still inside him, but he had learned to keep them under control. Channeled properly, strong emotions could work to his benefit.
When he’d finally wised up, he would have done anything for a chance at being paroled. The only thing that had kept him sane and made him fight to survive under intolerable conditions was the dream of freedom.
Once he returned home, he would take things one day at a time. Wouldn’t make any waves. Wouldn’t ruffle any feathers. At least not right away. He had been waiting fifteen years; he could wait a little longer. But no matter what he had to do or who he had to hurt in the process, he intended to reclaim the life that had been taken from him. He had come to this prison as an eighteen-year-old convicted murderer, who, only months before his arrest, had been a star athlete with the world by the tail and a bright future. He had paid his debt to society, had served his time for being convicted of slitting his bastard of a stepfather’s throat. Now he was free. Free to go home. Free to unearth the truth. Free to make sure the guilty paid as dearly for their crimes as they had made him pay.
But first things first. Reed Conway grinned as he marched out of Donaldson Correctional Facility, head held high, shoulders squared, backbone ramrod straight. When he got back to Spring Creek, he wanted to eat his fill of his mama’s fried chicken and peach cobbler. He wanted to guzzle down a six-pack of ice-cold beer with his cousin Briley Joe and have some fun, the way they had when they’d been teenagers. And he wanted to get laid. Just about any willing woman would do just fine.
“I wish it weren’t raining.” Judy Conway wiped the foggy window, her circular motions creating a small clearing
