Don't Look Behind You (Don't Look Series Book 1)

by Emily Kazmierski

  “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase, ‘the show must go on?’” Fiona plants a hand on her hip.

  “I’m not following.”

  Holding up my collage of inspiration photos, Fiona raises her eyebrows.

  My eyes run over the flashes of neon color in the images. Then to everyone around us, who for some reason are looking at Fiona and me as if we’re in charge around here.

  “You think?” I ask.

  “Let’s try it. We can reset the lights afterward.” Fiona grins. I do too.

  Excitement hums in my veins. This is my shot to set up the lighting scheme how I want. Run through the show the way I imagine it should look. Take some photos. It’s going to be so fantastic even Esau won’t be able to argue. It’ll show him my vision is just as valid as his. I’m making this happen, thanks to Fiona.

  “Thanks, girl,” I say. “All right everyone. Esau’s not here today, so we’re going to try something a little different. Dariel?”

  “Your wish is my command, Meggie.”

  A thrill runs through me as my fellow club members listen and comply with my requests. Bodies scramble around the drama room, setting up for a run through of the first act. Fiona’s on a ladder changing the colored films over the lights. Up in the booth, Dariel gives me a thumbs up. A sense that I’m right where I’m supposed to be makes my chest puff up.

  My phone chimes in my pocket. A text from Noah. I start to ignore it, but a word in the preview snags my attention. I scan the message quickly. It shoots an arrow that pops a gaping hole in my ballooning heart and sends it careening toward my feet as it loses all of its air. He’s gotten in contact with someone who’s willing to share some of the police’s case files with him. Crime scene images, too. It’s the break in the case he needs, Noah insists. Will I meet up with him Monday after school to look through it for leads?

  It’s the break we both need, really. If I’m going to figure out who’s behind the killings and protect myself, a look at the police files would be useful. If I can stomach them.

  “We’re ready,” Fiona calls as she climbs down the ladder. “You look a little green. You okay?”

  Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I meet her eyes. “I’ve never been more ready.” It’s definitely a lie.

  Chapter 17

  Day 127, Monday

  Noah meets me outside my seventh period class. “I thought we could go straight over to the library from here, if that’s okay?”

  “Sure,” I say, steeling myself. I know what I have to do. It’s a matter of self-preservation. Aunt Karen won’t let me go gallivanting around in search of a killer, but I can still do some digging. Plus, I have to keep tabs on Noah’s research to make sure he doesn’t find out. And he would never understand. He’s too honest, too good to understand. He’d never look at me the way he does, with his warm brown eyes shining behind his black plastic frames.

  We cross campus, walking through the football field and out the back gate in a clump of students. Most leave through the parking lot, but those who don’t have cars often leave this way to avoid the crush of traffic at the front gate. Even from this distance the honking and shouting coming from the lot are clear.

  I’m relieved to be with Noah this afternoon. Friday afternoon Aunt Karen couldn’t pick me up, she was held up at the grocery store, so Justin drove me home. It was all kinds of awkward. But somehow not bad. It was way better than walking home alone. There was no feeling like someone was following me, even though I know someone is. The notes alone are proof that the Mayday Killer is either here, biding his time, or has a lackey he’s using to scare me. There’s someone in this town tracking my movements. I’m not just another small town teenager heading home from a day of mind-numbing classes.

  Today, Noah and I walk through downtown. “You interested in a milkshake before we hit the books?”

  I chew on my lip, worried he’ll take it the wrong way if I agree. I’ve felt a little bad for turning him down ever since he asked me out a couple weeks ago, but Noah hasn’t brought it up again. He also hasn’t done anything that makes me think he’s bummed about it either. It must not have been a big deal to him. Maybe he just wanted something to do on a Friday night. Besides, it’s stupid hot out here, and a milkshake sounds divine.

  “Sure, I could go for one.”

  “Excellent.” He holds the door open and gestures for me to lead the way inside.

  My stomach gives a tiny flutter at the attention, but I ignore it. It doesn’t mean anything when Noah offers to pay for my milkshake, and I decline.

  Twenty minutes later we step outside onto the sidewalk, me sipping on a chocolate peanut butter shake and him drinking a root beer flavored one. We chat about anime all the way to the library, arguing good-naturedly about which ones are the absolute best. We laugh as we stumble into the brick building, sighing at the relief of the cool air.

  “Man, I love this place,” Noah says as we make our way to the back to the table where we usually sit. “It’s so quiet, unlike at home.”

  “Who’s home with Anza and Mattie this afternoon?”

  “Mom’s off today. I think she needed a mental health day, you know?”

  I can only imagine how difficult Mrs. Lopez’s job as a nurse in a local elderly facility is every day. I’m familiar with the concept of taking a mental/emotional rest. I could use one myself, but as Noah pulls a stack of papers out of his backpack after scanning the area to make sure we’re alone, I know today is not that day.

  The top page is a crime scene photo on a plain paper with a printer low on colored ink. The image is in black and white, but it doesn’t lessen the impact of seeing a pair of bodies slouched forward on a couch, their throats slit.

  My stomach revolts and I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “Crap, sorry. I forgot to warn you.” There’s a shuffle of papers. “It’s okay to look now.”

  When I open my eyes, the crime scene photos are gone. An apologetic smile from Noah doesn’t make me feel any better.

  “Sorry about that. I haven’t had a chance to look at any of this yet. I kind of wanted to wait until you were with me. I hope that’s not weird.”

  “Not weird.” My stomach disagrees with a gurgle.

  Noah takes another sip of his shake, his eyes still on my face. Then he slides some papers across the slick tabletop toward me. “Why don’t you start with this list of survivors? Do some googling and see if you can find any connections between them that the police might have missed.”

  “I doubt they missed anything,” I say, but take the sheets. My perusal of the alphabetized list is both agonizingly slow and as fast as I can force it. I can’t get past a deep sadness for each name on the list. The person behind it whose life is irreversibly changed. Kate and Nate Anderson are not yet on the list.

  “Find anything interesting?”

  I shake my head.

  “It’s just, you’ve been staring at that one page for five minutes.”

  I push my gaze up to his. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

  “I get that. Want to look at something else for a bit? I can trade you.”

  “No,” I say too quickly. My fingers tighten on the papers in my hand. “This is interesting.”

  After a beat, Noah goes back to scanning the rest of the file.

  I wait until I’m sure he’s not paying any attention before I look down at the papers in my lap. At the top of the final page is one single name printed by itself. Clenching my teeth and breathing deeply through my nose to calm the quaking in my stomach, I silently fold the paper in half and tuck it under my butt. Then I throw myself into the rest of the list with as much gusto as I can muster.

  I’m deep in concentration when a hand lands on the tabletop next to the paper I’m reading. Noah and I have been working in silence for over an hour, and the movement makes me startle, gasping in surprise.

  “What was that for?” I ask, managing to glare up at the guy standing beside my chair.

  Esau is looking at me
with an inscrutable expression. “That’s what I was about to ask you. What were you thinking on Friday? I’m gone for one practice and you change everything about the production.”

  My gaze flits to Noah, who is watching us carefully. Something in my look must convey the idea that I want privacy for this conversation, because Noah clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbles as he goes.

  “You were gone for two practices, okay? And I changed one thing. One! I thought if you saw how it would look with the neon lighting, you’d like it. Besides, I put it all back when we were finished.”

  Esau sighs, pulling over a chair from another table, turning it backward, and sitting in it. His arms cross casually across its back and his dark eyes pierce my own.

  This is the part where he chews me out for messing with his precious production. I kind of understand why he’s so up-tight about every aspect of our play, from the actors’ delivery to the costumes to the lighting. Esau is the director, so we’re supposed to be working toward his vision. He was planning for this far before I came along, and probably didn’t anticipate butting heads with the new girl at school. There’s no way he saw me coming; I never saw any of this coming either. My throat dries and I swallow, forcing it open.

  I steel myself for a whispered scolding just as Noah reclaims his seat across the table. He must have asked someone at the information desk for access to the library’s

  newspaper archive, because he’s got a stack of them in his hands.

  Esau glances at Noah, then leans closer to me. “Your lighting. It wasn’t… terrible.”

  A surprised laugh escapes from my mouth.

  “Don’t get carried away,” he says, but there’s a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s get together later. We can talk it over. See if we can come to some kind of—”

  “Compromise?”

  “Yeah.” He swallows. It’s clearly killing him to admit that someone else’s idea isn’t the worst thing he’s ever heard. But I can’t help it. Half a smile tips my mouth up. I’ve worked my butt off in drama club, and it’s nice to finally get a little credit for it.

  “I’m not sure if I can. My aunt…”

  “She’s pretty strict. Yeah, I’ve heard,” he adds when my eyes widen.

  “I’ll ask her, but I can’t promise anything.”

  “We’ll figure it out.” Esau unfolds himself from the chair and replaces it under the next table. “See you around, Noah.”

  “Yeah,” Noah says with a casual chin lift.

  Esau walks right past Mr. Baugh, who is talking to the librarian at the information desk. When he turns, he sees us and gives a small wave which Noah and I return. Small towns, I think.

  As Noah and I dig back into the case file, I can’t help but notice the ease between the two of us is gone. There is no easy banter about anime characters or the superior milkshake flavor. And worst of all was the look on his face when I told Esau I’d ask about meeting up with him later. Noah didn’t look sad, exactly. He looked disappointed.

  Maybe he hasn’t forgotten about asking me out, after all.

  Maybe it meant more to him than I realized.

  I steal a glance at him across the table. His black wavy hair has fallen forward over his brow as he reads. Absently, a finger itches the side of his nose behind his glasses. He’s not as broad as Esau, but there’s a quiet confidence about him that I have to admit I like. I almost wish I could… No, it’s for the better this way. Who knows how long I’ll be living with Aunt Karen anyway. It might be for the next eighteen months until I finish high school and go off to college. Or it might be another week.

  Noah’s arms are propped on the tabletop as if he’s trying to shield the crime scene photos he’s studying. I shudder, picturing that single name alone on a sheet of crisp white paper. Not for the first time, I wonder what will become of her.

  Chapter 18

  Hours Later

  It took me forever to finish my work tonight, so it wasn’t a lie when I told my guardian that I had a headache and was going to bed early. A glass of water and a Tylenol fixed that. Now I lay still in bed, breathing in and out evenly so if Aunt Karen decides to check on me, she’ll think I’m asleep. She turned the hall light off and retired to her room two hours ago. So that’s looking unlikely. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard her moving around downstairs in the early hours of the morning a few times, but it’s almost midnight now, not 4 AM. Slowly, the noises from next door went quiet, signalling that the house is asleep.

  Bright blue light from the full moon shines in through the gauzy curtains over the large window, turning the striped rug shades of blue and purple. Outside, an owl hoots from its perch in one of the eucalyptus trees that stretch out in a grove behind the house.

  Under my pillow, my phone vibrates.

  I slide it out and read the message.

  I’ve been waiting for this text for the past hour since Esau messaged me that he was bored and I should meet him tonight to talk about the play’s lighting. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he enjoyed arguing with me. But if I can convince him of my vision for the play, it’ll be worth the risk I’m taking leaving the house.

  Peeling back the thin coverlet, I sit up, fully dressed. With careful hands, I pick up the stuff on the desk under the window and set it on the floor. The old house creaks, making my pulse leap. I go still. Waiting. Nothing stirs.

  My eyes fall on the silver bracelet sitting on the corner of the desk, and I slide it on so she’s with me.

  Climbing onto the wood veneered desk, I crouch to open the window. Hopefully it cooperates. I haven’t actually tried it since I claimed this room. It’s been so hot outside we’ve had the AC running constantly. It didn’t even occur to me that it might not open until right this second, but it’s a distinct possibility judging by the layers and layers of paint on the sill. After some maneuvering, and time spent pushing and pulling at it, I’m able to dislodge the sliding lock. Moment of truth time.

  The window screeches as it rises, causing my heart to sledgehammer my ribcage. Frozen, I strain for any trace of movement that indicates Aunt Karen heard. She could barrel into the room any second. If she catches me fully dressed and attempting to sneak out, she’ll probably put me on full house arrest. GPS anklet and everything.

  Mercifully, nothing happens.

  That’s right, I think. I make magic happen. This is happening.

  Climbing out, I stand upright on the patio cover that runs along the front of the house. Inching forward, I sit with my legs over the edge. Good thing I know how to fall without seriously hurting myself. Leaning forward, I aim for the patchy grass, keeping my legs loose.

  My sandaled feet hit the grass and slide out from under my body, landing me on my butt.

  A huffed laugh pulls my attention to the side of the house where a tall figure materializes out of the shadows.

  I go tense with fear until I realize it’s Esau moving closer to me, his black hair streaming around his shoulders over his white tee.

  “You were supposed to wait in your truck,” I hiss, standing up to brush myself off. “If Aunt Karen hears us, she’ll kill us both.”

  “You’re late. I came to make sure she hadn’t busted you,” he whispers back.

  “Does it look like I got caught?”

  Esau shakes his head, amusement playing about his eyebrows as he looks at me. Snaps that intriguing rubber band. “Come on.” I can’t help but notice the way the moonlight caresses his hair as Esau leads the way down the driveway to the street. The scuffed and muddy pickup truck he drives is parked in the shadow between the streetlights a couple houses down.

  The truck’s doors shut after us, and I turn to look back at the old house. The way its shadow looms long over the dry grass. The way it’s set back from the road and surrounded by trees makes it look sort of like a creepy farmhouse in a horror movie. No lights have come on. There’s no movement. Looks like I’m going to get away with sneaking
out. Take that, Warden Karen.

  The interior of the truck is much cleaner than the outside, except for a rip in the upholstery in the middle of the bench seat. A satisfied smile rises to my face as I face forward.

  “You ready?” Esau asks, glancing over at me, arms slung over the worn steering wheel. At my nod, he starts the truck, expertly using the stick shift to chug down the street. I never saw anyone driving stick before, but the way Esau does it so easily is kind of attractive.

  Thankful that it’s dark enough to hide the pink climbing into my cheeks, I look out the window. The downtown is silent as we coast through. We’re the only car stopped at the red light. Down a side street, headlights flash as we pass. I guess someone else is awake in this sleepy town after all. I try not to think about who it could be. So far, whoever’s passing me angry notes has only done it during the day. Hopefully, the dark of night will hide me from prying eyes.

  Forcing that idea away, I turn to Esau.

  His left hand hangs casually out his window, which is rolled down all the way. We’re driving slow enough that the breeze picks up strands of his hair, making them float around him in a dark crown.

  Using the hand crank, I roll down my own window and breathe in the fresh country air. There’s something so serene about being almost the only people awake. The quiet and the dark are like balms in my soul, shoring up some of the tiny cracks that have splintered in my core. I didn’t know it, but I desperately needed this. The freedom of being out of that house, out from under Aunt Karen’s thumb, even for just an hour.

  Esau slows the truck as we approach the farm where I suppose he works, but I’m not ready for this to end.

  “Keep going,” I say, shooting a glance at the boy beside me to gauge his reaction.

  Esau actually smiles, and he speeds past the wrought-iron gate topped with metal roosters.