I allow myself one heartbeat to wallow in the absence of it, of him, and then I’m opening my door and peering down the hallway.
The master bedroom door is closed, just like it’s been since I moved here in August.
Downstairs, the house is quiet. I don’t know where Aunt Karen is, but she can’t be far. The fire in the corn field almost put her over the edge. She checks on me every half hour, it feels like. Not to mention the constant inquiries about my phone. The uneasy rhythm we’ve fallen into is coiling tighter and tighter. Living in this house is to be on high alert every minute. It makes it difficult to breathe.
I manage to hit every creaking board on the staircase on the way down, but still there’s no sign of my guardian.
My heart is chugging around my chest like a toy train flying off its tiny rails as I reach the front door. I slide open the deadbolt achingly slowly. Turn the knob at such a glacial pace that it may never actually open. Then I’m outside.
A noise in the house makes me bolt down the sidewalk and away from the building that I’ve never warmed to and will probably never feel like home.
I run through town as if being chased by Aunt Karen herself. I refuse to stop, knowing that if I pause even a second to re-think this I may not go through with it.
My lungs are burning and I can’t catch my breath. I run headlong into somebody, and Chinese takeout rains over the sidewalk.
“Urgh,” the man says, scrambling to catch the rest of the Styrofoam containers before every bit of his dinner is on the concrete.
“Oh no. I’m so sorry, Mr. Baugh. I have some money. I can buy you more dinner. Here, take this.” Digging into the pouch of my hoodie, I dig out my phone and slip out the twenty Aunt Karen handed over because she ordered me to always carry cash. But even as I’m holding it out to him, it occurs to me that twenty dollars won’t be nearly enough to replace all of the food he’s dropped.
“It’s fine, Megan. Really. I can’t take your money,” he says even as his fingers close around the green in my hand.
“It’s the least I can do,” I say as I duck past him.
“You seem like you’re in a hurry. Going somewhere?”
“Thought I’d check out the corn maze,” I say between choppy breaths. Now that I’ve stopped running, I don’t know if I’ll be able to begin again. My hands press into my knees as I take great gulps of air and force them into my lungs.
“Do you need a ride? It’s on my way.”
“No thanks! I don’t want you to be late for whatever party you’re taking all that food to.”
“Party? Oh, right.” Mr. Baugh’s eyebrows draw together as he glances down at the large quantity of food splattered over his shoes. “I don’t mind being a little late.”
“That’s okay. See you Monday!” I shove my body into a jog. I can’t let my teacher distract me from the task I’ve set myself.
The maze is packed with couples kissing in out-of-the way corners. Screams of delight and panic fill the air. The heady scent of apple cider and fried cinnamon-sugar donuts makes my mouth water as I meander through the towering stalks of corn.
Footsteps approach, and I whirl, expecting to find a face nearly smothered by a grizzled beard and thick, unkempt eyebrows.
A pack of laughing guys hoots and hollers at the way I nearly jump out of my skin, but then they’re rushing past me further into the depths of the maze.
I posted on my photography profile over an hour ago that I would be here, but the Mayday Killer hasn’t shown his face.
A knife-wielding scarecrow makes me scream when I run right into it, even though it’s the third time. Its twisted burlap sack face and fake blood freak me out even though I know it’s all for show. Whoever put this creepy spectre together had too much fun with the corn syrup blood that looks all too real.
Twisting away, I spot Fiona, Marisa, Viv, Erin, Dariel, and Esau a few feet away.
I freeze, not sure how to react. Esau’s been acting coolly toward me since the other day at Noah’s. Since there is no reasonable explanation to give him for what happened. I take a slow step back, hoping to melt into the corn like a cartoon character in a hedge.
Esau meets my eyes for the barest of seconds before he looks away, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Even he is dwarfed by the towering stalks of green corn.
“Hey Megan!” Fiona says when she spots me, waving me over.
My feet war with my brain as they propel me to the edge of their circle.
“Girl, we thought about calling you but weren’t sure your aunt would let you come out with everything that’s going on.”
“She doesn’t know I’m here. Been here for hours, actually,” I say, biting my lip.
“Oh, rebel. I like your style. Want to join us?”
“We’re hopelessly lost,” Viv says with a grin.
“Somehow I think you don’t mind,” I say, letting the corner of my mouth curve upward despite how heavy the muscles in my face feel. “Where’s Noah?”
“Babysitting,” Fiona shrugs. “His mom got called in to work.”
I wish he was here.
“You any good at these things?” Dariel asks, slinging an arm over my shoulders. “Help us, Obi Wan. You’re our only hope.”
I’m about to shake my head when Esau speaks. “I’m hungry. Let’s go get something to eat.”
“The exit’s that way. I’m pretty sure.” I point.
“It’s the other way,” Esau murmurs, leading the group.
Fiona raises her eyebrows at me but doesn’t ask.
Everyone follows Esau through the twists and turns and out of the maze, a chorus of voices talking about how delicious a slice of pumpkin pie sounds piled high with fresh whipped cream.
I don’t fight it as Dariel steers Fiona and me with a hand on each of our shoulders. “Funnel cake,” he drones, imitating a mindless zombie on the hunt for its next sugar hit.
I almost laugh as my entire body begins to unwind. I’m unspeakably relieved to be leaving the maze. I regretted it one second after I posted that image of me standing at the maze’s entrance. How stupid was it to post on the Internet telling a murderous lunatic who’s obsessed with me exactly where I’ll be tonight? I must have a death wish.
Every second of being in that endless sea of giant corn was torture. Every footstep and every snap of a branch made my nerves spiral higher and tighter. Sure that the next figure who stepped around the corner would be him. A murderous gleam in his eyes and a bloody blade clutched in one hand.
My friends pile into the back of the line at the snack shack. I wrap my arms around myself to hold in the warmth that builds in my chest. Even though I’ve told these wonderful people lies, lies, and more lies over the past few months, they’ve somehow become my friends. I’ve teased Fiona for her snacking habit. Asked Viv for recommendations of places to clothes shop. Run so many lines with Marisa that she’s finally perfected them. And Esau, despite his hard-ass director’s ways, is a friend too. Underneath that grumpy exterior is a softish center. Okay, so he’ll never be an effusive person, but that’s fine.
The warmth starts to seep away when I realize that eventually all of them will know what I’ve done. Once they do, they may change their minds about wanting me around.
“Be right back,” I say, ducking out of line.
I can feel Esau’s eyes tracking me as I run past the snack shake toward the line of bright green porta-potties.
“Megan!”
I spin around to see Mr. Baugh jogging this way. “I’m so glad I found you. You have to come with me. There’s been an incident at the Lopez’s house, and your aunt wants you home right away.”
Dread slices through my gut like a black hole. The Mayday Killer got to them. Maybe he didn’t see my post and instead decided to add more bodies to his grizzly count. I clutch my face. More bodies lying at my feet.
My fault.
My fault.
My fault.
“Are… are they okay?” I manage to push the wo
rds out as Mr. Baugh herds me toward the parking lot.
He cuts a look toward me, something worrying in the lines of his face. He got to them. They’re not okay.
My knees start to buckle, but Mr. Baugh holds me up. “Come on, we’re almost there.” He coaxes me across the lot to his car and helps me climb inside.
“Thanks,” I mumble as he drives me through town.
He nods, eyes focused on the road.
My mind is flailing for purchase, but I can’t hold on to any single thought. My chest is so tight it feels like I’m being crushed by a car rather than riding inside of one. Town whooshes by in an unfocused blur. The packed diner a din of noise. The grocery store where Aunt Karen would be working if something bad hadn’t occurred. The sheriff’s station where only half of their patrol cars are parked, unattended, in the lot.
“Mr. Baugh? Can you tell me what happened?”
“I’m not sure. Your aunt didn’t give me the details. Just asked me to go to the corn maze for you while she and Justin were tied up at the house.”
I glance at my teacher, whose knuckles are white on the steering wheel as if he’s clinging to this tiny act of normalcy even as it propels us closer to whatever devastation has been wrought on Noah and his family. Noah’s warm smile films my memories. Anza’s inquisitive eyes and hot-seat-like manner of questioning me when I’m there. The shy way Mattie tucked his hand into mine the last time I was there.
Fiona said Noah was home babysitting, which means his parents aren’t home. It’s odd for the Gemini Killer to change his MO this late in the game, but who am I to try to reason out the actions of a deranged murderer?
Whatever. Please, just let them be alive.
Mr. Baugh is clearly upset by what has happened, and I wonder if he’s deliberately keeping the worst of it from me.
I open my mouth to tell him that he doesn’t have to protect me from the evil in the world. I’ve already seen it firsthand. But the tight pallor of his face stops me. If he’s upset, I don’t want to pile on. The horror of my complicity can wait for another day.
Chapter 35
An Hour Later
I’m pacing, still waiting for Aunt Karen to get home with news. She and Justin aren’t answering their phones. Neither is Noah. The wait is driving me wild with fright.
A clipped knock on the door downstairs brings my head up.
Finally! I slap my textbook closed and push off the worn carpet. It’s dark out, and enough shadows have gathered in my room that it’s hard to see anyway. I ought to have turned on a light ages ago, but I was too distracted to crawl the five feet to the desk to flip on the lamp. Anything to take my mind off what’s happening across town.
When I open the door, Noah is there, his eyes red-rimmed and his curly hair disheveled as if he’s clutched at it with sweaty hands.
“What—?”
The air whooshes out of my lungs when he lurches forward and wraps his arms around me. I’m stock still, caught off guard by his unembarrassed embrace, until I realize the shudders of his body against mine are sobs. Instinctually, my arms wrap around his back.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, patting his shoulder blade. “It’s going to be okay.” I don’t know why I say the words; they’re a blatant lie. Sometimes horrible things happen that change a person’s reality forever. Something wrenches apart the threads that weave your life together. You can try to glue everything back together, but it will never be the same. An ugly, jagged scar will always be there, staring you right in the face.
You can choose to make the best of it and move forward with the hope that life will get better. It has to. Or the brokenness can drag you under, if you let it. Twist you into a bitter, angry husk.
With a sharp intake of breath, I realize that I’m so very close to letting everything that’s happened to me ruin what remains of my life Before. I’ve let the bad memories poison all of it, my memories, my words, my heart.
Noah’s whispered confession jolts me out of my self-loathing.
“I was supposed to be watching them, but someone posted on the true crime forum about the Mayday Killer. A new guess as to who he might be. I got distracted by the theories and conjectures, and then Anza screamed. It was so loud. I—I thought I was going to lose them too.”
At his choked revelation, my entire body seizes. No, please, not Anza and Mattie. I haven’t spent a ton of time with them, but those two sweet kids have weaseled their way into my heart. Anza with her gap-toothed chatter and Mattie with his shy, empathetic nature. Please, let them be okay.
Noah drags me tighter against him, burying his face in my neck. Desperate for comfort.
“Noah, you’re scaring me. What happened? Are they all right?” I hold on to him tightly until his grip eases.
He takes in an unsteady breath before letting go of my waist, slowly, as if he’d rather stay here in my arms. With a swipe of his hand across his eyes, he finally looks me in the face. “Anza convinced Mattie to climb the kitchen counter to try to get the cookie tin off the fridge. He fell and broke his foot in three places. I can’t get his wailing out of my head.” He winces, his face beginning to crumple again.
I sag in relief. They’re both alive.
“It’s not your fault.” My fingers wind around his and squeeze. “Kids get hurt sometimes. His foot, it’ll heal, right?”
Noah gives a slow nod. “He looks ridiculous in the boot they’ve got him in. It’s so heavy he’s listing to one side.” A weary laugh escapes his lips.
I giggle too, overcome with relief, and that single, cheerful sound breaks the dam of tension between us. We’re both laughing at the mental image of Mattie in an oversized boot. Noah is doubled over with his hands on his knees and I’m pressing my hands into my warm cheeks.
When we’re both down from our giddy high, Noah meets my gaze. “Thanks,” he whispers, “for letting me, you know.”
My eyes fall to the wet spot on the front of my sweater dress. “I think it goes well with my tights, don’t you think?”
Noah’s mouth turns up appreciatively. When his eyes meet mine, there’s something there I haven’t seen in a few weeks. Interest, I think. “Definitely. Look, um, I know when I asked before, you weren’t—I mean, since you and Esau aren’t official. I was wondering if you’d consider—”
My lips part in surprise. I thought I’d been pretty careful around Esau at school, but I don’t know why I’m surprised that Noah has noticed. He’s observant and smart.
I don’t like hurting him.
My phone vibrating in my dress pocket cuts him off. I resist the urge to reach for it.
“Is that him?” Noah asks, his voice carefully modulated.
“I can get it later.”
“No, it’s fine. It might be important.”
“It’s not,” I say too quickly. But I take out my phone and check the message anyway.
Pushing his hair back off his forehead, Noah takes a step back. “I should get home. Check on Mattie.”
“Wait.” I hold the sleeve of his flannel shirt with a claw-like grip, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the message shining from my phone.
Are you still here? What did Mr. Baugh want?
Hello?
If you don’t answer, I’m assuming you’ve been kidnapped. ;)
Megan? Is everything okay?
They’re from Esau, starting over an hour ago. I stare at the messages, not sure how I missed them.
We both jump when a hard knock comes against the front door.
“Megan? You home?” Esau.
My eyes go large in surprise.
Noah’s eyes dart between me and the door. “Is it okay that he’s here? I can stay, if you need.”
“It’s fine.” I open the door to Esau, who looks like a Greek god with his black hair streaming out behind him and his face fixed in an avenging snarl.
He takes in Noah and I standing in the foyer and zips it all back inside his protective shell until he’s his usual, well-controlled self. “I
guess I was worried for nothing.”
“You were worried about me?” My heart melts into a puddle of goo and my words come out in a coo.
Esau huffs. “No.”
My lips curve upward. “Liar.”
“I’ll just see myself out,” Noah mutters, his cheeks tinged red. “Thanks again,” he tosses back, and then he’s gone.
Esau swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He closes the front door without taking his eyes off me. Shrugs out of his shearling coat and drops it on the floor. With a deep inhale, he advances with intent in his eyes.
A welcome shiver rolls up my spine at that look. My toes curl in my cutesy slippers. Esau may be an expert at hiding his emotions at school, but right now I can almost read his mind.
Our mouths crash together in a kiss full of heat and want. He backs us up to the wall and leans against it, banding me to his torso with muscled arms braced across my back. Breaking off to take a sniff of my neck, he murmurs. “When you left the maze with Mr. Baugh, I thought something had happened. And then you didn’t answer your phone…”
He moves to kiss me again, and I barely get a word out before my brain is a fog of fizzing sparks and the velvety caress of Esau’s fingers down my arms.
“Maze?”
“Corn maze,” he breathes against my mouth.
“Wait.” My hands press against his chest, but it’s not necessary. Esau has pulled away to get a better look at my expression. “You saw me leaving the maze with Mr. Baugh earlier?”
I’m panting, anxiety spiraling upward through me and slicing through the endorphin-fueled haze. Aunt Karen never could figure out who was behind the Mayday’s Killer’s notes I found in my backpack. But Mr. Baugh has been around the entire time, hovering. I thought he was being a teacher, worried about how the new kid would do at Valley High. But what if that wasn’t it at all?
Don't Look Behind You (Don't Look Series Book 1) Page 20