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

by Emily Kazmierski

  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, but what if it isn’t? What if he gets off and decides to kill us to honor his dead twin’s memory? A shudder of fear threatens to turn my veins to ice, but I fight it off. I’ve come this far, found my courage, and I won’t be ruled by fear now that the end of this horrible journey is in sight.

  Squaring my chin, I march right past him with my twin at my side.

  Inside, the courtroom is not as grand as I thought it would be. It’s not cavernous with ornately carved architecture like the ones on television. It’s a smallish, wood-paneled room with two long wooden tables facing a raised podium where the judge will sit. Behind the tables are several rows of plain chairs for members of the press and the audience. My eyes catch on a tall, broad back with long black hair neatly combed.

  Esau turns toward us with warmth in his eyes. “You look amazing,” he whispers to Taryn when she hugs him.

  “You too,” she says, running a hand down the buttoned front of his shirt. “Is that a panda under there?”

  Esau grins, pulling his collar aside far enough that I can see there’s a panda on his undershirt.

  Taryn giggles.

  Something in my chest tightens. I’m so happy for them that they found each other in all of this. Taryn has never seemed happier than she does these days. She grins like the Cheshire cat when she comes in from a date with Esau, minutes before curfew. And Karen’s taken her guardian duties extra seriously and instituted Friday night dinners so she can get to know Esau too.

  I wish Noah was here.

  We haven’t spoken since the day I told him about the sweatband. My lawyer wouldn’t tell me anything, either, because it was a separate case and I didn’t need to know. I don’t know if they proved the bloody band had belonged to Noah’s murdered brother, or if it was just another dead end. For Noah’s sake, I hope they found answers.

  “Look who I found outside?” Esau steps to one side and pulls Noah forward.

  My mouth drops open in shock.

  “Hey,” Noah says nervously, shuffling around Esau and Taryn to stand beside me. I never understood the phrase, “A sight for sore eyes” until this moment. Noah looks like an oasis in the desert in his crisp flannel, dark wash jeans, and shiny dress shoes. “They’re my dad’s,” he says, shuffling his feet.

  “They look nice.”

  “We’ll start in five minutes. You girls ready?” our lawyer asks. At our nod, she says, “Meet me up there when you’re done here.” Pointing to one of the wooden tables, she moves in that direction.

  Taryn and Esau are whispering and grinning at each other like there’s no one else in the room. I turn to Noah and find him staring at me. My mouth runs dry. We speak at once.

  “Look—”

  “Audrey, I—”

  Shaky laughter breaks the tense air between us.

  “You go first,” he says, his hands in his pockets.

  Swallowing, I do. “Thanks for coming today. It means a lot that you’re here. I don’t know what’s happening with the investigation into your brother’s death, but I’m sure it can’t be easy for you to be here knowing he hasn’t gotten justice yet. Or that he might never. If that guy was responsible, that really sucks. But at least he can’t hurt anyone else.” I’m babbling but I can’t curb the tide. My word vomit spills out until I clap a hand over my mouth to stop myself from digging myself farther into the pit that I’ve dug for myself.

  Noah shifts his weight. Sighs. “It’s not bad, really. Being here. I am glad that he’s dead. It helps.” He pauses, chewing at the corner of his lower lip. “I wanted to tell you. They tested the sweatband. It was my brother’s. After that they went back to the evidence they had and re-tested some of the DNA they found on my brother’s body. It was the Mayday Killer. He killed Simeon. They think it was his first.”

  “I’m so sorry, Noah. I don’t know what to say.”

  With surprising certainty, he puts a hand on my shoulder. A gentle finger lifts my chin until our gazes meet.

  “None of this is yo
ur fault,” he says. “Especially not my brother’s death.”

  “I know, but thanks.”

  The corner of his mouth tips up. Something low in my belly flutters back to life. “I was thinking, once this is over, you’ll probably be pretty hungry. Famished, even. Can I interest you in a trip to the diner? I hear their peanut butter milkshakes are the best ever.” At something in my eyes, Noah’s smile grows.

  The butterflies in my stomach are doing a line dance now, complete with switching partners and do-si-does.

  “How can I pass up such a delicious-sounding milkshake? And maybe a burger?”

  “I thought you were a vegetarian.”

  “Taryn’s the vegetarian. I’m a meat-atarian. It’s been so hard not eating burgers the past few months. If I never eat another bite of tofu, it’ll still be too soon.”

  He laughs. “That would be great.”

  “Double date?” Taryn chimes in, beaming in her spot underneath Esau’s arm.

  Noah nods, and his smile makes my entire being puff up with happiness.

  “We can talk about what play to do in the spring. I’ve got some ideas.” Taryn’s eyes twinkle as she looks up at Esau. He arches an eyebrow.

  “Othello,” he suggests.

  “The Importance of Being Earnest,” she counters.

  “We can discuss it later,” he growls into her ear, making her titter.

  “It’s time,” our lawyer says from where she’s standing behind the table, making all four of us stand straighter. “Come have a seat.”

  I nod, turning to go, but Noah puts a hand on my arm to stop me. “You’re going to do great,” he whispers in my ear. His lips brush against my cheek for the barest of moments before he withdraws, but I swear the warmth of that kiss will linger for the rest of the day.

  “All rise for the honorable Judge Jay Houser.” The court officer opens a door at the back of the room.

  Outside the Courthouse

  Reporters talk into their phones, into cameras, or type notes on devices as quickly as they can. Each one races to get their story into their station so they can be the first to break the news about the start of the most widely talked about and publicized trial the state of California has seen in years.

  “Families of twins can sleep more soundly tonight knowing that the man who terrorized them this summer is gone. His brother, a teacher who aided him in luring his final victims to a country farmhouse, will likely be jailed for quite some time, if the testimony by survivors Audrey and Taryn Thomas is any indication of his extensive crimes.

  Investigation into the Baugh brothers’ past indicates abuse perpetrated by their parents, who pitted them against each other and punished the brothers who did not measure up by depriving them of meals, beds to sleep in, and on occasion, proper shelter.

  Mr. John Baugh, the oldest brother and former high school teacher, is being brought up on charges of kidnapping. The youngest brother, Albert, otherwise known as the Gemini Killer, was killed by law enforcement in the rescue of the Thomas twins. The authorities have been unable to contact the killer’s twin brother, Robert. Yesterday the sheriff issued a statement saying that no evidence of his participation in the crimes has been found, suggesting that he was not involved in the string of murders that brought fear to our state. Authorities speculate that he has gone into hiding to avoid the censure of the public wrath against his brothers. They ask that he come forward if he has any information regarding the crimes of his siblings. For channel four news, this is Chelsea Ichaso.”

  At the edge of the crowd, a man holding a sign with the words, “They got the wrong man,” lowers it with care. Turning away from the throng, he sets the sign against the side of an adjacent building.

  His heart thuds as he rounds a corner, and his hand falls to the lump in his inner jacket pocket. The hard curve of the hunting knife’s hilt is reassuring. If there had been trouble, he would have handled it.

  Getting into his brother’s blue car—he’d ditched the dice—he drives north out of town.

  Robert would always be grateful for his younger twin brother, Albert, who’s obsession with that teen girl saved his neck. Albert’s decision to reveal himself to her on that grocery store camera took the heat off him. It was convenient that the police killed him before Albert could tell them he wasn’t responsible for the killings.

  All of his life, Robert had hated having a twin. Had hated feeling like he was simply a spare.

  Finally, he realized Albert had been the spare. He’d been sacrificed so that Robert could continue his work. There were many more parents of twins who deserved punishment, and he would ensure that they got it.

  One by one, they would feel the severing plunge of his knife.

  And someday, once Robert judged that retribution had been paid, he would return to finish what he’d started with the Thomas twins.

  ***

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  Also by Emily Kazmierski

  Embassy Academy Trilogy

  Deadly First Day

  Lethal Queen Bee

  Killer Final Exams

  Ivory Tower Spies Series

  For Your Ears Only

  The Walk-in Agent (a Julep Short Story)

  The Eyes of Spies

  Spy Your Heart Out

  Spy Got Your Tongue

  Over My Dead Body

  Other Novels

  Malignant

  All-American Liars

  Life Among the Ashes

  About the Author

  Emily lives in sunny Southern California with her husband and daughters. When she's not writing, she enjoys cuddling with her two dachshunds Nestlé and Kiefer, making homemade ice cream, watching television, and enjoying the sunshine with her daughters and their flock of backyard chickens.

  To learn more about Emily, visit her website: www.emilykazmierski.com