Read The Prey Bites Back: A Jesse Watson Mystery Book #8 for Free Online Page B

be a
late lunch,” Helene said, grinning.
    “By the way, I
talked to Mae’s daughter, Marsha,” Mom jumped in. “She called me from the
hospital. Nice girl. She sure loves her mama. Mae’s pretty bad off. Her whole
body is red like she has a real bad sunburn and in some places she has huge
blisters. Her memory’s gone, and her internal organs are messed up. The doctor
says she’s going to have a long recovery. Lightning strike victims don’t
usually live through it, but Mae’s a fighter. She’ll be okay. It’ll just take a
while. Don’t know about the memory thing. Doc says that might take longer to
come back… if ever. That’s the long-term outlook. For the present, they just
hope Mae doesn’t suffer a heart attack and die. Her electrical system is whacked
out, and that’s bad on the heart. They’re just not sure of anything right now.
Only God knows. She can’t have any visitors yet.”
    “We’ll do what
we can,” Billy said. “If Dakota Stone’s a killer, she has to be stopped. When Mae
does recover enough to know what’s going on, we’ll have this case solved.”
    “Y’all must
know something I don’t,” I said, inquiring. “Where’s the proof. Got any clues,
hints, or ideas?”
    Mom dropped a
sheet of paper down in front of me, and said, “Here it is.”
    I looked over
the document and discovered a very interesting and vital piece of information.
There was no record whatsoever that Dakota Stone ever existed until four years
ago when she opened her spa/killer/shop.
    “How…”
    “Billy said we
could use his private computer.” She pointed to the back where our home office
was. “So, we did. After Eddie and I got back from our honeymoon, we went right
to work. I joined that spa and started snooping. Eddie did the research. He’s
the one who found this.” She pointed to the document.
    I looked over
at Billy. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
    “Dakota Stone
is not who she says she is.”
    “So who is
she?”
    “If you like
that,” Eddie said, passing another piece of paper my way, “you’re going to love
this.” He went on to explain as I scanned the printout. “Both women are using
stolen social security numbers from dead women.”
    “How on earth
did you get their social security numbers?”
    “Computer.”
Eddie grinned. “If you know the right place to go, you can find out anything on
the web.”
    “Now you’re talking
like a hacker,” I said, shaking my head. “I hope you didn’t leave any
footprints.”
    “He knows the
drill,” Billy assured me. 
    Eddie
continued. “Olivia Swales is using the social security number of a woman who died
five years ago in a car accident in Wilson , North Carolina , and Dakota’s social security number
belongs to a dead woman in South
Carolina . In 2010, Dakota
opened her shop and had to list her social security number on the business
license, and I found Olivia’s listed on a hospital admission form. She was
admitted to UVA Hospital around the same time both women appeared in Charlottesville .
Somehow, I feel there’s a connection to Olivia’s hospital stay and their
arrival. I can’t find a single thing on either woman before 2010. It’s as if they
didn’t exist until four years ago. Go figure.”
    “I’m no private
eye,” Helene said, placing food down in front of us, “but even I know that when
someone changes their identity, they’re either running from someone or
something.”
    “Precisely,”
Billy agreed, picking up his sandwich. “All we have to do is find out who these
women really are.”
    “How hard can
that be?” I asked, knowing that Billy had his ways. He could find out anything
he wanted to. That’s what he does. That’s what we both do. Get dirt. I looked
at Mom. “You can take me to The Body Shop as your guest. That’s a
start.”
    “I can’t do
that,” Mom said as if she was scared. She picked up her sandwich and bit into
it.
    “Why not? They
won’t know what we’re up