Justice For Abby Read Online Free PDF

She’d gone an entire month without a glimmer of panic, and before that a month again. Now in less than two hours she’d had a double-whammy.
    She clenched her fists and walked to the window, pressing her head to the cool glass. What if this new pattern wasn’t temporary? What if she was finally heading toward the breakdown she’d barely avoided? She slammed her eyes shut as she slipped further into the depths of her fear, thinking of her mother. Maybe this was how everything started for the woman she hardly remembered—the panic attacks and confusion. Would the alcohol abuse come next, and then the stays at the mental health clinic until she decided life was too much to handle and gave up?
    At moments like this she understood her mother’s decision to end it all, which frightened her further. The idea of being helpless and afraid left her as terrified as the damn bar across the door in the other room. She didn’t want to feel weak again or continually fight memories better left buried. She wasn’t sure she would be able to find her way out of the hellish pits she’d freed herself from a second time.
    “Stop,” she whispered on a shaky breath, squeezing her eyes tighter as she visualized her mental stop sign. This type of thinking wasn’t productive. With great effort, she emptied her mind, imagining all of her negative thoughts rolling away. Steadier, she turned from the view she loved and moved to the antique cherry writing desk Gran left her—one of the few nice pieces of furniture they’d had in their tiny apartment in Hagerstown—searching for a sketchpad. Drawing new designs for the runway always soothed when she was troubled. Hopefully by the time she finished sketching the flirty skirt she hadn’t been able to get out of her mind she would be ready for bed.
    With her book in hand she lifted a stack of fabric orders she had yet to sign off on. As she searched for a pencil, she bumped the edge of the small calendar still turned to December on her pegboard. Pausing, she flipped up the page to January and stabbed the pin home, determined to put 2015’s rocky start behind her. This year was going to be a hell of a lot better than the last. She was finally going to have her life back. No more working from home or black caps and nondescript jackets every time she and Jerrod wanted to go out. No more babysitters watching her every move or paychecks being transferred from the Lily Brand financial offices to Ethan Cooke Security for her safety or the hundreds of other precautions she and Jerrod took to keep her alive.
    Eventually she would be able to walk down the runways again and talk to the press instead of hide in the back, leaving before the showstoppers took their marks for each finale. Hopefully she would be able to join the Lily Brand team at Fashion Week in late February instead of wait from the safety of her condo for everyone’s return, like she did in the fall. And maybe this would be the year she finally convinced Lily to help her start the line she’d been obsessed with ever since she wrapped Lex’s sprained ankle with their dresses on Zachary Hartwell’s roof.
    She just had to make it through the trial early next month…unless Renzo’s attorneys found another way to stall, which the Federal Prosecutor assured her wouldn’t happen, but she would wait and see. The United States versus Lorenzo Cruz and Zachary Hartwell should have come and gone in late September, then in early October, and again in November, but Zachary’s brutal prison-cell slaying left both the prosecution and defense scrambling, and the trial had once again been delayed.
    Flipping to the next page on her calendar she stared at the dark black circle highlighting February eleventh and pressed a hand to her jittery stomach as she thought of coming face-to-face with her captor.
    She stepped back from her desk, no longer interested in her sketches as she walked to her bed, unzipping her black dress, letting it slide to the