The Page 99 Test
I just heard that people in bookstores often look at page 99 in order to get a feel for the book and make a determination as to whether they would buy it. Please give me a thumbs up or down on page 99 of EDGE OF ESCAPE:
She perched on the bed and thumbed through the prints. She recognized the building in the first six shots as the back of the high school taken from the woods far back, with the football field and track in focus. There were anywhere from two to twenty students in the pictures but one person was circled in each. It was still daylight but the gloom in the curtained room prevented her from identifying that person as herself though the heavy feeling in her gut said otherwise. She stepped quietly into the bathroom, closed the door and flicked on the light.
These photos are one to three years old, she thought, because I remember the jacket I’m wearing in this one and I don’t have it anymore. She checked the next one and the next. Josh was beside her in one of them, the ink line of the circle around her blotting out his face, but she was sure. Her life had been monitored by this pervert and she never knew.
Or did she? Had there been evidence?
She closed the toilet and sat on the lid, running one hand over her now dry and snarly hair. There had been lots of phone hang-ups. There were times at the library when the hair on her neck stood on end and she would whip her head around expecting to see one of her friends sneaking up on her. There was never anyone around.
Had Mike Sylver been there? She had never run into him after school but . . . It just didn’t seem like it could be Mike. Hadn’t she heard his dad was a cop?
Cops had guns.
She flipped through some more pictures. These were more recent.
Rebecca on her parents’ porch.
Rebecca getting into her car.
She perched on the bed and thumbed through the prints. She recognized the building in the first six shots as the back of the high school taken from the woods far back, with the football field and track in focus. There were anywhere from two to twenty students in the pictures but one person was circled in each. It was still daylight but the gloom in the curtained room prevented her from identifying that person as herself though the heavy feeling in her gut said otherwise. She stepped quietly into the bathroom, closed the door and flicked on the light.
These photos are one to three years old, she thought, because I remember the jacket I’m wearing in this one and I don’t have it anymore. She checked the next one and the next. Josh was beside her in one of them, the ink line of the circle around her blotting out his face, but she was sure. Her life had been monitored by this pervert and she never knew.
Or did she? Had there been evidence?
She closed the toilet and sat on the lid, running one hand over her now dry and snarly hair. There had been lots of phone hang-ups. There were times at the library when the hair on her neck stood on end and she would whip her head around expecting to see one of her friends sneaking up on her. There was never anyone around.
Had Mike Sylver been there? She had never run into him after school but . . . It just didn’t seem like it could be Mike. Hadn’t she heard his dad was a cop?
Cops had guns.
She flipped through some more pictures. These were more recent.
Rebecca on her parents’ porch.
Rebecca getting into her car.
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