Page 152 of Whispers

for an exciting sneak peek of

Lisa Jackson’s

newest thriller

THE MORNING AFTER

coming in March 2004!

Prologue

Oh, God it was cold . . . so cold . . .

Bobbi shivered. She was sluggish, could barely move, her mind groggy and dull. She wanted to sleep, to ignore the vague sense of uneasiness that teased at her mind. Her eyelids were heavy. As if she’d taken too many sleeping pills. An acrid odor reached her nostrils, something foul. She cringed and realized that her room was quiet. Still. Eerily so. No sound of the hall clock ticking off the seconds, or the fan from the furnace turning the air . . . no . . . the silence was deafening.

You’re not in your room.

The thought hit her hard.

You’re not in your bed.

She forced an eyelid open. She was . . . where?

The rancid smell made her gag. Her mind began to clear. Where the hell was she and why couldn’t she move? Her lungs were tight, the air thin, the darkness complete. Panic shot through her blood as she realized she was lying on her back, wedged against something hard, her nose pressed against slick fabric.

It was dark. Airless. She had trouble drawing a breath. And that god-awful smell . . . She nearly wretched.

This was wrong all wrong.

She tried to sit up.

Bam! Her head cracked against something hard and there were sides keeping her in tight, hard sides wedging her onto the bed . . . no not a bed, something softer and spongier and squishy. Fear scorched her brain as the

horrendous smell assailed her. She was crammed into some kind of box.

A coffin?

God, no! That was impossible! This was all some kind of weird, macabre dream. That was it. That had to be it. But her blood was pumping frantically through her body. Panic chiseled down her bones. She screamed and the sound thundered in her ears, going nowhere. Oh God, oh, God, oh, God. Wildly she tried to kick upward, but her bare feet hit the hard surface, a toenail catching on the lining.

This couldn’t be happening. It was a nightmare. Had to be. And yet . . . with all her might she tried to push, to climb out of this horrible confining space with its satin lining and . . . And . . . Jesus Christ, she was lying on something soft in places, hard in others, a . . . a . . .

A body! You’re lying on a body! Her scream echoed in her ears, ricocheting back at her.

“Help me! Oh, God, Oh, God . . . please, someone.” Jesus Christ, was she really lying upon a dead person?

Maybe it’s still alive—just comatose like you were.

But she knew better. The once-live padding beneath her was cold as death and reeked and was probably already decomposing and . . . oh, please let this be a horrible, monstrous nightmare. Please let me wake up. She heard sobbing and realized the sounds escaped from her throat. Don’t panic. Try to figure a way out of this . . . while you still have air. The fact that you’re breathing means that you were probably just dropped here. Just because you’re in a coffin doesn’t necessarily mean you’re underground . . . But she smelled the dank earth, knew that she was in a grave. It was only a matter of time before—

Snap out of it and figure a way out of this! You’re a smart woman, think! THINK! If you’re not buried, just trapped in here, there could still be time . . . But she knew the seconds were running out, each one bringing her closer to a horrid death. Please God, don’t let me die. Not like this . . . not . . . not like this.

“Help me! Help! HELP! she cried, shrieking and clawing wildly at the top of the coffin. She tore at the smooth satin lining, her fingernails breaking, her skin ripping, sharp pain searing up the back of her hands. The stench was overwhelming, the air so cold and thin . . . it had to be a dream . . . had to. And yet the pain in her fingertips, the blood flowing under her nails convinced her that she was living her own worst fear, a nightmare so evil she could barely imagine it.

Horror strangled her and she thought she might pass out. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she kicked and scratched, willing someone, anyone to help her out of this tomb of death.

But the darkness remained. The squishy body beneath her didn’t move and above her own screams she thought she heard the thud of dirt and stones being piled on top of this hideous coffin. “No! No!” she pounded, pleading and crying. “Let me out! Please, please!”

Who would do this to her?