If Looks Could Kill Read Online Free

the force of the bullets ripping into her chest. She didn’t cry out, but she clutched her breast, feeling the impact.
    And the cold. The awful cold assailing Peterson as his lifeblood began to drain away…
    And still she saw. Saw the killer turn with his shadowy companion and race across the street into a heavily overgrown vacant lot.
    The killer paused and started to run back, but his companion stopped him, urging him forward again. Madison saw them run again, saw until the icy fingers of death eroding Peterson’s vision turned the picture to black.
    Jimmy was at her side, helping her up, trembling himself. “I shouldn’t have done this. Jesus, look at you. You’re soaking-wet, shaking…”
    She shook her head vehemently. “I’m all right. I’m all right. Honestly.” She hesitated. “I can give you a description of the killer.”
    Jimmy ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure I believe this myself. How am I going to get anyone else to believe that you can…see things?”
    â€œCops do make use of…of…” she began, but broke off, wincing.
    â€œPsychics,” Jimmy supplied.
    She shook her head. “I’m not psychic. This has only happened to me twice. But I can give an artist a good description of the killer.”
    Madison did give the police a description, and an artist created a damned good sketch of the man.
    Through the sketch, they found the man and brought him in for routine questioning. Thinking that the police had more on him than they did, he broke down and confessed to the killing of Earl Peterson. After that, Jimmy made Madison promise to call him anytime she had strange dreams.
    But the next time she had such a dream, it was far more personal. And it changed her life.
    Madison graduated from high school with honors. She intended to go to school in Washington, D.C., and major in criminology—just like Kyle, who had recently acquired his master’s degree and gone to work for the FBI.
    Kyle came to her graduation. They hadn’t seen much of each other in recent years; he had been away, and Lainie’s death had more or less split up the “family.” But he came to her graduation, along with all her other assorted siblings.
    He brought his brand-new wife. Her name was Fallon, and she was perfect for Kyle, being perfectly beautiful. He was so tall, dark, well-muscled and good-looking; she was petite, blond, amber-eyed, slim and hourglass-shaped. Madison was surprised to find she wanted the woman to turn out to be a bimbette; however, she wasn’t. She, too, had just gotten her degree and had taken a job with the Smithsonian. She was sweet and charming, and Madison had to admit to liking her very much. She told herself that she would have been incredibly critical of any woman clinging to Kyle’s arm, because he was her…No. Because he was Kyle. And though she told herself that she didn’t have a crush on him, she did. She was jealous.
    That night she slept with Darryl Hart for the first time. Darryl was madly in love with her and intended to follow her to the same university. She was the envy of all her friends.
    He did everything right. And though it was slightly painful, it wasn’t horrible. It just wasn’t what she had read about, though Darryl assured her that it got better for women.
    She certainly hoped so, though she tried very hard not to let him know just how disappointed she was. Darryl was a good guy.
    She dated him for her first three years of college.
    Then…she had another dream.
    She had known that Fallon was expecting a baby. She and Kyle lived relatively near one another—she in Georgetown, he in a suburb in Maryland, just outside downtown D.C.—but she avoided him. She and Darryl and Kyle and Fallon had met for dinner a few times, and everyone had had a great time—except her. So she made excuses not to see them. She told herself that she was