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      BACK FROM THE DEAD

      The girl was familiar. So familiar…

      Becca stared at her hard, putting a physical effort into it.

      Is she someone I know?

      Becca struggled to remember. Who was she?

      Distantly, she felt the light-headedness, the clammy warning that she was about to pass out.

      “Who are you?” she called, but the rising wind threw the words back into her throat.

      The phantom girl took a step forward, the tips of her boots balanced over the edge of the cliff. Becca reached out an arm. He mouth opened in protest.

      “Stop! Stop!”

      Was she going to throw herself to her death?

      Becca lunged forward just as the girl turned to face her. Instead of a profile shot, Becca caught a full-on view of her face.

      “Jessie?” she whispered in shock.

      Jessie Brentwood? Her missing classmate? Gone for twenty years…

      Books by Lisa Jackson

      SEE HOW SHE DIES

      FINAL SCREAM

      WISHES

      WHISPERS

      TWICE KISSED

      UNSPOKEN

      IF SHE ONLY KNEW

      HOT BLOODED

      COLD BLOODED

      THE NIGHT BEFORE

      THE MORNING AFTER

      DEEP FREEZE

      FATAL BURN

      SHIVER

      MOST LIKELY TO DIE

      ABSOLUTE FEAR

      ALMOST DEAD

      LOST SOULS

      LEFT TO DIE

      WICKED GAME

      MALICE

      Books by Nancy Bush

      CANDY APPLE RED

      ELECTRIC BLUE

      ULTRAVIOLET

      WICKED GAME

      UNSEEN

      Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

      LISA JACKSON

      Wicked Game

      NANCY BUSH

      ZEBRA BOOKS

       KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      Contents

      Acknowledgments

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Special thanks to Terry of Iron Station, North Carolina, for supplying the character name for Butterfinger, the cat in this book.

      Prologue

      St. Elizabeth’s campus

       February 1989

       Midnight…

      Mother Mary, help me!

      Oh, please…save me!

      The girl rushed headlong through the maze and rising mist. She stumbled, her face grazed by a poking branch.

      “Damn.” Clapping a hand to her cheek, she instantly felt the warmth of blood welling against her fingers. It spurred her onward. She kept running, moving, breathing hard. Her calf muscles ached, her lungs burned, and still the midnight rain washed over her, cold and cruel.

      This is wrong. Oh, God, so wrong.

      It shouldn’t be this way! Couldn’t!

      Glancing over her shoulder, she listened hard, deafened by her own heartbeats. She wasn’t lost. She knew where she was. She knew the twists and turns that would take her to this maze’s center, and once there, she believed there was another exit—maybe two—though it had been so long since she’d seen them. She thought for an instant that she might be leading him to her own doom, to a trap of her own creation. She just had to keep moving, recalling twists and turns…

      But it was so dark.

      And he was getting closer. She could feel him. As if his breath was already brushing across her skin.

      Fear clutched at her throat and she nearly slipped around a corner of shivering laurel. He knew about her and now was running her to ground.

      How had he known? When she’d spent so many years—her entire life, it seemed—learning the truth herself!

      Then, foolishly, she’d goaded him. Dared him. Brought to the maze by her own invitation as she’d hoped to learn more; to expose him. She’d believed she could turn the tables on him, avert the very doom she now faced. But things weren’t going as planned, she thought, her shoes slipping on the long grass. Somehow the hunter had become the hunted.

      But how could he know about her…unless…unless he was one of them?

      Oh, Jesus!

      She heard something. A noise…a sibilant hiss…

      The hairs on the back of her nape lifted.

      What the hell was that?

      She froze in place, hands up, as if to ward off danger, body quivering, poised on the balls of her feet, softly panting. He was here! Close! He’d already entered the maze. She could hear him now easily, as he was making no effort to disguise his approach.

      Her heart knocked painfully against her ribs.

      Was he alone? She thought he was alone. He should be alone. She’d set this up so he would be alone, but now she didn’t know.

      Didn’t know anything.

      That’s where the fear came in, because she always knew.

      That was her gift.

      And

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