With My Little Eye by Joshilyn Jackson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Joshilyn Jackson
- Language: English
- Genre: Mothers & Children Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
I never thought that I was famous enough to get murdered.
I had a small, shiny role on a popular sitcom in the nineties, some little
parts in little movies, and a lot of guest spots on detective shows. That’s not
the kind of actress who gets Madonna-stalked. But here I was. Hunted.
It took about a year from the date of his first letter, but he drove me out
of LA. Three weeks ago, I moved myself and my daughter, Honor, all the
way across the country to get away from him. New phone, new email, new
forwarding service. I wanted to feel safe. I wanted to do normal things, like
sit here in a chichi coffeehouse so belligerently air-conditioned against
August that I had ordered my Americano hot. Like chat with my new
neighbor, Cooper. But all at once, I felt my spine stiffen and elongate. My
mouth went dry. Cooper and I were in the middle of a deep-dive talk about
our exes, a bonding point for us, when he heard me suck in sudden air. He
stopped talking midsentence and cocked his head, concerned.
“What?”
I tried to make my shoulders relax. “I’m being watched.”
“Really?” Cooper swiveled around, blatantly looking. He was more
interested than alarmed, but all my skin was tingling and my chest felt tight.
“Really. Don’t be so obvious,” I said, though I was looking all around,
too.
No one was looking back. Whoever was watching didn’t want to get
caught. My heart rate picked up. This was how I’d felt in LA, for months
now. It should not be happening in Atlanta, especially here, so close to my
new home. Java House was inside my actual building, on the first floor,
along with a CVS, a deli, and the mailroom.
I breathed in deep, trying to calm down. Cooper was the most interesting
human I’d met since moving back to Georgia. Urbane and easygoing, and I
needed a friend. I made myself smile.
“How do you know?” Cooper asked.
“I can feel it,” I said. “I almost always can.”
“Is that an actor thing?” He liked hearing about my job.
“Yeah. I think a lot of actors have that superpower.” It was true. But this?
This reactive fear was not an actor thing.
Honor had a janky kind of restlessness that got into her body on hard
days. She would say, “Mom, I’m full of bees,” and I would rub her feet or
hands with lotion until she calmed, or walk with her in circles if it was bad
enough that touch made it worse. I’d assumed it was part of her autism, but
ever since my stalker got dead serious, I had an inkling what she meant.
Moving two thousand miles away was supposed to fix this, but I was
instantly so full of bees, I could practically hear humming.
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