Born To Die by Lisa Jackson Page A

sprint, running quickly through the trees. It was dark now, only a few lamps offering any kind of illumination, the trees with their black trunks stark as they rose from the winter-bleached grass, a blur.
    Don’t freak out. There’s no reason to freak out. Even though you don’t have your phone with you, it’s nothing to worry about.
    She was really sweating now.
    The main road rimming the bluff was close, just around the next corner—
    â€œOh!”
    She caught a glimpse of the other jogger, a tall, athletic man dressed head to toe in black running gear and a ski mask.
    Her heart clutched.
    Nothing to worry about. Let him pass.
    Adrenaline sped through her bloodstream. She kicked her pace up a notch, to a full-blown run, her feet slapping the path faster and faster, her breath hard.
    It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s all right....
    But was it?
    He was closing quickly.
    Panic swept through her.
    He was close enough that she could hear his breathing. Strong. Steady—
    The toe of her running shoe caught, and she stumbled forward, arms flying. She managed to catch herself before she went down and somehow kept her balance, though her stride was off.
    â€œCareful,” a deep voice said from behind.
    Oh, God! He was only two steps away.
    She set her jaw. Told herself to be calm.
    Did his voice sound familiar?
    Her heart raced crazily.
    Out of the park she ran. Onto the path edging the bluff. She’d hoped that he would turn the opposite direction, but he was just a step behind her, heading for the downhill run. Maybe she should just stop and let him breeze by.
    If only she had her damned phone.
    Or the canister of pepper spray she kept in her purse.
    â€œOn your right,” he said, catching up with her, matching her pace stride for stride. Now was the time to pull back. “Enjoying yourself, Josie?” he asked.
    Josie? She nearly tripped again He knew her? Oh, God, why was his voice familiar?
    â€œYou should be careful, y’know.” His shoulder bumped against hers.
    She lost her footing and was starting to go down when he suddenly caught her, the fingers of one strong hand circling her upper arm.
    â€œI told you to be careful!” he declared, his grip tight, painful.
    â€œLet go of me! Who are you?” she demanded as they both stopped. Behind his ski mask he was breathing loudly.
    â€œDon’t you know?” His fingers grew punishing.
    â€œWho you are? No! I said, let go of . . . Hey!” He jerked hard on her arm. “What’re you doing?” But she knew. In one heart-stopping second, she realized he meant to kill her! “Let go of me!” Her feet slipped out from under her as he pushed, and before she realized what was happening, he propelled her to the side of the cliff and the short stone railing. “Don’t! Oh, God, Help me! Help! ” She was scrambling now, certain of the son of a bitch’s intent.
    Oh, God, no! No!
    Frantic, she flailed, trying to keep her balance as he shoved her sharply against the stone rail, cracking her shins.
    Pain screamed up her legs.
    â€œNo!” She fought, but it was no use. He pushed hard, and her weight forced her over the guardrail. To her horror, arms windmilling, she went sailing into the growing darkness. Screaming, she tumbled through the air to land hard against the frozen hillside.
    Crack!
    Her head banged against a rock, and the world spun as she slid and bounced, twisting and rolling, trying to grab on to anything, her fingers scraping over dirt, roots, and rocks as she slid down the cliff face.
    Please, God, help me—
    Pain ricocheted up her spine, and somewhere in the distance she heard the roar of rushing water. Closer as she rolled, faster and faster, out of control, her skin bleeding, the world spinning.
    But far above she caught a glimpse of him standing high above her, a black figure in the night, looking down.
    Waiting.
    For her to die.

CHAPTER 4
    T race