Don't Look Behind You (Don't Look Series Book 1) by Emily Kazmierski (summer reads .txt) 📗

to know if I recognized any of them. They’d already identified most of them, but the sweat band. I was pretty sure it was the twin to yours. Noah, I’m sorry.” My expression collapses as the weight of all of the horrible things I saw in those photos finally hits me.

I sat in that cold metal chair in the Sheriff’s office sifting through images as if they didn’t affect me, with Taryn and Karen right there for support. But now? I let a few tears fall before I swipe my eyes on my sleeve.

“Lamb thinks the sweatband was from his first victim, but when they ran the blood, they didn’t get any results. I think it’s because your brother wasn’t in their system. Does that sound right to you?”

Noah’s eyes are round and glassy as he stares at the image. I’m not sure he even heard me until he jumps up. “I have to go down there. Maybe they can take a sample from me to verify. I can’t believe after all these years—I have to tell my parents.”

I stand up too. “I hope this news brings all of you some closure. I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”

He looks at me over his shoulder, his hand wrapped around the doorknob. “Thanks, Audrey.”

It’s the first time he’s called me by my real name, and it sends a bolt of lightning through me.

“Hey!” I call as the door is closing.

Noah pokes his head out. “Yeah?”

“I was wondering; would you be interested in going to the diner with me sometime? We could get shakes. Maybe even some of those animal fries you like. My treat.”

Inside the house, Anza yells something I can’t make out, and Mattie starts to cry.

Noah shoots a look over his shoulder and then drags his attention back to me. The line of his forehead tightens. “I don’t think I can. Thanks, though. Audrey.”

I stare at the closed door for a long moment before I start the walk home. Noah’s rejection hurts, but I can understand why he did it.

My feet crunch over the pavement with each step. It’s solid and reassuring under my soles. For the first time since May, I’m determined to enjoy being outdoors since there’s no one lurking in the shadows waiting to kidnap me. I take a deep breath, absorbing the sounds of twilight. Birds chirping their final songs before bedding down. Crickets join the chorus. An owl hoots, pulling a smile to my lips.

Chapter 42

One Month Later

Audrey

I’ve stopped counting the days since our parents were taken from us. Once Taryn and I made up, once she helped me lever the massive weight of guilt off my shoulders and toss it away, it no longer felt like a penance I had to pay. I’ll never forget the day they were killed. It’s seared into my memory. But with each passing sunset, the tightness in my chest lessens the tiniest bit. I learn a little more about forgiving myself for something I couldn’t control. I learn a little more about what it means to put down new roots, to grow, to bloom.

“You ready for this?” Karen looks back at us from the front passenger seat of the armored van the FBI used to transport us from home to a hotel near the courthouse. We’d had just enough time to change into nicer clothes and fix our hair before Justin, Karen’s partner, told us it was time to go. After spending some time with him, he’s not so bad.

Now, I stare out the window at the chaos on the courthouse steps. Reporters with microphones and cameras swarm on both sides of the path up to the large, ornately paneled wooden doors. Men and women with homemade signs scream and yell. One says “Burn him in hell” while another says “Free John Baugh.” Law enforcement officers line the walk to make sure the swarm doesn’t turn into a riot. My stomach churns.

Taryn’s grip tightens on my hand. Her fingers are a welcome anchor in this media storm.

“Hey, you can do this,” she says, her expression one of firm encouragement. “All you have to do is tell the truth, and then we can go home.”

Home. For the longest time, it wasn’t a word I associate with the creaky old house in Hacienda. Hiding place. Cage. Temporary. Those were the words I would have chosen if asked, but somewhere over the past few months, the two story with whiny stairs and ancient clapboard siding has become just that: home. It’s the place where I found myself again. Where I found my sister again. Found freedom from having to look over my shoulder. I’m not in any hurry to leave.

I just have to get through today, and we can go back there. Looking forward to eating hot soup from giant bowls while watching some melodramatic reality show with Karen and Taryn is what finally allows me to nod.

“Let’s do this.”

Together, we climb out of the vehicle.

The noise level rises to a roar as the crowd spots us. Journalists and bloggers yell questions, shoving their microphones in our faces in search of the perfect quote or sound bite. Karen and Justin are at our side in an instant, parting the crush of eager bodies so my twin and I can make the climb up the steps of the large concrete building. The doors whoosh closed behind us, the clang bringing an abrupt end to the clatter.

The interior of the courthouse is well lit by large pendant lights hanging from the ceiling. Up and down the long space, people in suits whisper back and forth. Lawyers and their clients confer before they’re ushered into the halls of justice.

Nearby, a door opens and an officer leads forth a man in an orange jumpsuit. His wrists are handcuffed, but his legs are free.

I freeze as Mr. Baugh catches sight of us. His haunted eyes lock on me, sending a chill down my spine.

Our lawyer says that the state’s case against him is ironclad,