Whispers
Romance Books

The phone still in her lap, Beth caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the small dresser across the room. What she saw unnerved her: a gaunt, weary woman tangled in the sheet of her unmade bed in a wrinkled cotton nightgown, her long, blond hair, usually so neat, tangled and falling loosely down her back, the room dark and depressing with curtains drawn against the sunlight. She was thankful Morgan hadn’t seen her.

2:15 P.M.! The glowing red numbers on the clock radio were another reminder that Beth’s life was totally out of control. This wasn’t like her at all. Before this all started, she adored early mornings. Desperate tears emerged uncontrollably, and she made no attempt to wipe them away.

Beth was suddenly stuck by the thought that her children would be coming home from school soon. She had to get up and pull herself together. But she couldn’t move. The fear of what had entered her life paralyzed her. Her life had been stolen from her! Anger welled up in her throat. Her fists pounded the pillow and she screamed, "Go away! Please leave me alone!"

Beth was barely able to get herself together long enough to see that the children got off to school. Nine-year-old Michael was visibly worried about his mother. It broke her heart to see the confusion and concern in his young eyes.

Jenny, fourteen and busy with her own life, was growing distant from Beth. "I miss you, Jen." She was watching her little girl changing before her eyes. Beth had always been a bit over-protective and worried about her children growing up and going out into the world. But now, with what she had discovered, she was terrified.

This had to stop! Beth opened the drawer in her bedside table. Putting her hand inside the small, dark space, she suddenly felt something moving across her fingertips. Beth screamed, jerking her hand back. The drawer fell to the floor and she watched in horror as a large spider scurried for the safety of darkness between the nearby dresser and the wall.

"No!" In terror, Beth grabbed a newspaper lying near the bed and brought it down again and again on the eight-legged intruder. Her rage escaped in deafening bursts. "Stop it! Stop it! I can’t stand this anymore!"

Her hands trembled as she grabbed a floppy disk that had fallen to the floor from its hiding place in the drawer. She slowly pulled herself to her feet and ran into the hallway.

Once inside Jenny’s room, her eyes focused on the computer. She hesitated only a moment, then her hand unsteadily pointed the mouse to the Internet icon. Double-clicking on it, she opened the program.

In an instant, the computer dialed the Internet server. Beth’s bleary eyes were riveted on the bright blue screen. After the high-pitched connecting tone, a male voice said, "Welcome." She had to do nothing more. Her tormentor would come to her.

Her wait was brief. When the bell sounded, her tense body jerked. An Immediate Message window popped open. He had arrived.

ARA: . . . i’ve missed you beth. You know how i enjoy our little chats :) we’ve become such good friends . . . wouldn’t you say . . .

GDWORD: The spider! You did that! Didn’t you?

ARA: just a little reminder, my dear . . . he was harmless-this time. you can’t get away from me that easily. . .

GDWORD: Stop it! Stop following me!! I feel you everywhere. I can’t sleep. I feel sick all the time.

ARA: poor beth . . . don’t you see, i can’t let you interfere with my plans . . .

Sirens wailed in the damp Dallas night. A motorist slowed while passing a shocked crowd standing on the edge of Castlewood Road. He strained to look into the nearby ditch. A police office, wearing a yellow slicker, used his flashlight to notify the intrigued motorist to move on.

Occasional lightning flashed and thunder rolled, rain still lightly falling. Broken tree limbs and twisted street signs gave evidence of the heavy storm that had passed through only hours before.

From street level, the wheels of a shattered late model Bronco were all that could be seen as the vehicle rested upside-down in the mud. Rotating red lights and strobing camera flashes cast a surreal glow on a group of police officers holding back the curious on-lookers as paramedics emerged from the ditch carrying a filled body bag.

Troy Woodsen steeled himself for what would obviously be more unwelcome news about his wife’s death. Morgan didn’t take her eyes off of the two Dallas Homicide Detectives.

"Detective, could we get this over with? What more is there to say?" She knew she sounded curt, but handling the arrangements for her sister’s funeral had devastated her mentally and physically.

Del Hancock’s large frame looked almost humorous on the soft, flowery loveseat. He shifted nervously. "Traffic did tell you an autopsy would be performed-it’s a matter of procedure in an automobile fatality."

"Yes. We know." Troy was still operating in total shock.

Morgan broke in, "Has it been done?"

"Yes, it has, Ms. Carruthers." He thumbed through his small notebook as they all watched. "The medical examiner concluded that the victim was already deceased when the accident occurred."

"That’s ridiculous!" Morgan protested.

The detective’s statement horrified Troy. "But . . . my wife was killed in the car accident. That’s what your people told me. Now, you’re saying . . . she was murdered?"

"Beth Woodsen may have been in the driver’s seat, but she was already dead when the car rolled down that embankment."

Her sister’s unexpected death draws Morgan Carruthers into the lives of her widowed brother-in-law, Troy Woodsen, and his two children. In her attempt to discover the truth, she is drawn to the Internet. She soon finds that the sinister presence that tormented Beth has targeted her and young Jenny.