Don't Close Your Eyes (Don't Look Series Book 2), page 12
I knew how he felt. I wanted to strangle her, myself, when I heard what she’d done.
Apparently, when Karen and Justin took this assignment, nobody warned them about teenagers. How we can be such a P. A. I. N. Clap clap. My palms hit together silently.
I don’t want to wake Karen, who’s asleep in the tent right next to ours. Or bother Justin, who sits at alert in a lounge chair next to the fire pit. Probably because he was well aware of my sister’s and my penchant for sneaking off.
The great oak trees along the edge of the farm’s property sway and groan in the night breeze. Justin adjusts in his seat, his eyes skimming past the fire toward the woods. Pale fingers wrap around my shoulder, and Audrey’s face appears next to mine in our tent’s flap opening.
When we told Karen and Justin about the maroon car at the motel, they looked into it. Cruised by the motel a few times. Spoke to the stoner who works in the office. From what Audrey and I have overheard, they haven’t found any leads on the identity of the car’s owner. Another dead end.
A few days ago, my sister mentioned the comet that was supposed to appear tonight, I encouraged her to present the idea to our guardians. Audrey’s been wanting to try some night photography, and I saw it for the welcome distraction it was. With some wheedling, we convinced Justin and Karen to accompany us on a camping trip for better visibility. More wheedling produced permission to invite Noah and Esau, whom we hadn’t seen outside school since the grounding. J and K stated they hoped the mutual punishment would deter us both from misbehaving. So far, it has worked.
Esau’s uncle agreed to let us make camp on a fallow spot on the farm, since it’s outside of town and more conducive to night photography. Our agents were fine with the whole thing, as long as they were in the canvas pop-up right next to us. See our history of sneaking out for reasons why.
My breath exhales long and low when Audrey mouths, “They’re here. You ready?”
I nod, flourishing my hands to show off my black on black on black ensemble. Going on a night photography trip calls for a specific look. My sleek black leggings, black sweater dress, and black Uggs (which I’ll put on outside the tent to keep from dragging dirt inside. I’m not a monster) won’t bother me if we end up sitting in Esau’s truck all night, waiting for the comet to show. Audrey’s choice of black joggers and her favorite hoodie were likely chosen with the same goal in mind.
“Did you bring it?” I whisper.
Audrey retrieves a canvas bag from the corner of the tent. Its contents crinkle with the movement, making her wince and glance over her shoulder. “Sorry,” she hisses at Justin. “Do you think she heard that?” Silhouetted by the fire, Justin shakes his head.
Karen’s getting some sleep, since she’s taking the early morning watch.
She tiptoes to where I’m standing in the tent’s opening, gazing beyond the house toward the street. The headlights of Esau’s truck shine bright as the vehicle bumps over the ground toward our campsite. I am so ready for this night. It’s peaceful out in the country, away from town.
Go.
Fight.
Win!
Shaking my head at myself, I place my fuzzy pink earmuffs over my ears.
Justin stands, watching as the truck rolls closer.
Cold air slices through my sweater, straight to my skin as I step out of the tent. Goosebumps rise up and down my arms, as if warning me to go back. Stay inside the tent where my sleeping bag is looking pretty cozy.
Not a chance. From what Audrey’s said about this comet, it sounds pretty cool.
Esau’s truck comes to a stop opposite the fire, and Audrey and I deposit her photo equipment in the bed before clambering inside. I’m already shivering from how unbelievably cold it is tonight. In the back seat, Audrey and Noah catch up a bit since they talked last. Noah’s parents have been leaning on him pretty hard since the park.
“Sorry we’re late,” Noah says. “My mom had a rough day at work, so she decided it was the perfect night to stay up late binging Netflix and forcing me to help do some baking. It took forever for her to finally agree to let me come. But, I brought muffins for sustenance. I hope everyone likes chocolate chip, and lemon poppy seed.”
“You’re not late.” The brown paper bag Noah’s got in his lap rustles as he digs in and pulls out a massive muffin for Audrey. The scent of melted chocolate fills the cab, and my stomach rumbles.
Esau’s eyes cut to mine. “Your stomach sounds like one of those orcs from Lord of the Rings.” He must see me shivering, because he turns the engine and cranks the heater.
“Shut up. Lemon poppy seed, please.” I twist to take a muffin from Noah and hum while I open it. I happen to love lemon desserts, and Esau’s right. My stomach is loud. The lentil curry I had for dinner was delicious, but it wore off hours ago, and I’m starved.
Esau asks for a muffin, and I unwrap it for him. All of us fall quiet, each eating our late night snack. When Esau bites into his, he groans. “Delicious.”
Audrey agrees. “So good. From here on out, these are must-have hangout food.”
Noah chuckles around his muffin. “I’ll tell my mom you guys enjoyed them.”
“Another please,” I ask, holding out a hand.
Noah plops another citrusy-smelling round of manna into my palm.
“Our tummies thank you.” There’s a smile in Audrey’s voice.
Leaning my head against the headrest, I force my muscles to go lax, from my forehead to my jaw, neck, arms, fingers, calves, feet. I’ve been wound tight for weeks, since Esau got plowed by whichever vicious person was behind the wheel of that car. But tonight, I’m warm, my stomach is full, and my favorite people are within arms’ reach. Justin is on guard duty, which should be a lot easier since Audrey and I are staying put this time. Here’s hoping tonight is equally uneventful. Still, my eyes scan the farm for any movement. There’s nothing.
Esau asks for and gets another muffin. Which he eats in two big bites.
I swing around to meet my sister’s eyes. “You need help with anything?”
She shakes her head.
“Everything’s in the back.” Noah juts a thumb toward the truck bed.
“Great. Let’s go.” The two of them climb out. The truck bed dips under their weight as they unpack the equipment Audrey brought specifically for tonight. One camera gets positioned on the truck’s roof, pointed in the direction whence the comet is supposed to come. Her backup camera is pointed straight up so she can take a time lapse of the night sky. My sister has her camera programmed to take photos every few seconds. She’s pretty excited about that, too.
“They good to go back there?” Esau’s eyes catch the corner of my vision, pulling my attention to his face. He looks chiseled from marble under the moon’s soft caress. His eyes shine in the dark. His ebony hair is braided in two french braids that trace the back of his skull before falling down his chest.
“Your hair is getting so long.” I trace a finger over one of the braids, still amazed that this artistically brilliant boy is mine.
“Yeah. My aunt keeps harping on me to cut it.”
“Don’t. Not ever.”
He chuckles at my fervency. “You like it, huh?”
Wrapping one braid around my hand, I give a gentle tug. Bring his face nearer to mine. My lips ghost over his warmer ones. His hand slides to my nape, holding me impossibly close. Our mouths linger for a beat before both of our hands relinquish their grip.
“I missed you,” he whispers against my cheek.
“Me too. Being grounded is the worst.”
“It sucks.” I can’t stop my grin when he leans in again.
The truck door opens, and Audrey pops her head inside. “We’re all set. Did you guys see that shooting star just now?”
My eyes meet Esau’s in a silent apology for my sister’s terrible timing before I sink back in my seat and watch the bats swoop across the indigo sky. “We must have missed it.”
“Yeah, missed it.” Esau’s focus is still on my mouth.
Noah and my sister climb into the cab to enjoy the heat while we wait for the comet to show. Somewhere far off, coyotes sing their song to the moon. The branches of hundreds of almond trees sway along to the tune.
In the back seat, my twin yawns loudly, and then titters. Probably embarrassed. “I should have brought some coffee. Unlike someone else I know, I’m not used to being out so late.” Her hand sneaks between the seats and swats at my shoulder.
“You snooze, you lose.” I smirk when Esau laughs softly.
“Damn right,” he murmurs. His large, warm hand lands on my knee, giving a gentle squeeze. He’s probably remembering the first night I snuck out to meet him. How dark it was in that almond orchard. How we argued about the play we were doing last semester. How we almost kissed under the crescent moon. And how a car trawled along the front of the orchard, scaring the spit out of us. Clenching my jaw, I square my eyes on the sky.
Chapter 19
Early the Next Morning
Taryn
The nearing screech of a police siren rips my eyes open. Something happened. They’re coming for us. Maybe Justin and Karen saw someone sneaking around the farm, so they called the cavalry. I can picture it: Karen barking at Sheriff Lamb over the phone. Demanding he climb out of his bed, tug on his boots, and round up a posse.
Peering out the windshield, I spot Karen wide awake in one of the camp chairs. Her attention is pointed toward the street, but her body is loose. Not wound and alert. Not like a woman whose alarm bells are going off. Her phone is tucked against her shoulder, and she speaks into it, unfussed.
A patrol car approaches the farm, its siren splitting the dim nighttime sounds. I watch as it grows larger. Holding my breath, I send vibes out through the dark. Don’t be coming here. Don’t be a harbinger of bad news. Blow right past where we’re camping and keep on going. Keep driving, Deputy Whoever You Are. Keep going…
The tan and white car wizzes past. A fire truck follows, its long body peeling around the road’s curve. Then both vehicles are gone.
I sag against the seat, my breaths short and shallow in my chest. Closing my eyes, I sing along with my favorite song in my head to try to calm myself down. Achingly slowly, my pulse slows to an acceptable tap in my veins. It’s still dark outside, the world tucked under a weighted blanket. Sighing in relief that we’re not about to be burdened with more bad news, I close my eyes.
My stomach rumbles, and I groan my eyes open again, looking at the three idiots in the truck who just slept through that whole thing. Audrey is slumped to the side in her seat, head resting on Noah’s shoulder. His head is on hers, his glasses falling down his nose. I stifle a giggle with a hand to my mouth. She’s totally drooling on his sweater. Just a tiny bit, but yeah. Oh, she’s going to be mortified. Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I snap a photo.
We were up super late waiting for the comet to show, and when it did, when Audrey started screeching that it was happening, we piled out of the car to watch. My sister snapped a flurry of photos from her position in the truck bed, Noah beside her. Esau and I stood against the side, tracing the sparkling comet with our eyes. It lit up the sky for a long breath before burning out below the horizon. Then we climbed back into the truck’s cab and all fell asleep.
“What’re you looking at?” Esau’s huffed words on my neck make me yelp in surprise, yanking forward to meet his gaze. He’s in the driver seat, legs splayed. A warm, amused smile showcases white teeth against brown skin. Lifting a finger to my lips, I point to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Clueless in the back seat. Esau’s head bobs.
Esau’s left arm shifts on the window sill, and the stark black cast snags my attention. Makes a flare of anger rise in my chest. When Justin and Karen ran the plates from the hit and run vehicle, it turned out they were stolen. Giving them no way to trace the car or its driver. The person who tried to murder me, who almost succeeded in maiming the boy I love, is still out there somewhere. Escaping judgment for violence against my Esau.
My stomach growls a second time, interrupting my fuming.
Esau’s eyes meet mine. “Did your two muffins not fill up your orc stomach?”
I fake a huff. “Guess not.”
Shrugging on his coat, he leaves the truck and comes around to my side. I slide out, shutting the door as quietly as I can.
“Come on.” Taking my hand in his, twining our fingers, Esau swings our arms between us. I’ve never seen him this early, but he’s bright and crisp, not fuzzy and mussed at the edges. Ugh, he’s a morning person. At my grimace, Esau chuckles, walking us around the faint glow of the simmering fire to where Karen is sitting, wrapped in a camping blanket. A knit cap is pulled down over her head, almost to her wary eyes.
“Morning,” she says, voice hoarse from the cold night air. “You’re up early.”
Esau clears his throat. “Craving donuts. You think it’d be okay if we went to get some real quick?”
Karen studies him for a beat before turning her scrutiny on me. “Donuts, huh?”
I nod, surprised she’s not shooting him down outright. “Yep, donuts. They sound amazing, right?”
“Did you polish off Noah’s muffins?” Karen asks, the canvas chair chafing when she leans forward onto her elbows. “Those were pretty good.”
“They’re gone,” Esau says. “Hence the donuts.”
The agent’s mouth purses, and she glances back toward the tent where Justin is probably sleeping. “Fine, go ahead, but I’ll be watching the GPS feed on my phone the entire time, and if you go anywhere besides the donut place, you can forget seeing the outside of the house for the foreseeable future. Agreed?”
“Totally. Yes. Donuts and back. That’s it.”
Karen nods.
We climb back into the truck, not bothering to wake Audrey and Noah before leaving the farm. Almond orchards unfurl on my right, then on the left. The road is wrapped up in groves of trees lined up like plastic army men as far as I can see in the early-morning gloom. Old houses dot the breaks between the fields, slowly giving way to newer, suburban housing developments. I stare out the window in a morning haze, unable to stop thinking about Esau’s cast, and how the maroon car’s license plate was a dead end. How there’s been no trace of it at the hotel every time the sheriff has someone drive by there.
Knocking a knuckle on the frosty window, I turn to my boyfriend. “Hey morning glory, let’s go to A & A donuts instead of Joe’s.”
He cuts a confused glance to me before returning his focus to the road ahead. “That’s all the way on the other side of town, across from the… Oh.”
“Oh, is right.”
“Karen will be pissed if she figures it out.”
“A & A has better donuts than Joe’s. She knows that. I’ll text her.” I do, and Karen sends back a quick thumbs up.
“See? We’re fine.”
Nodding, Esau keeps driving. Town goes by in a blink, motionless and sleepy except for the diner. Open 24 hours, a hot-pink neon sign glows in the window.
There aren’t many other cars on the road until we approach the freeway, and even then it’s only a handful. Red tail lights gleam where they cut through the night like the eyes of giant, mechanical animals that see more than they let on.
Shuddering, I push the ridiculous thought away. No one is observing us. Justin and Karen are at the campsite. The sheriff is probably asleep, and whatever deputies are on duty are either at the station, or driving around in their patrol cars, answering emergency calls.
Esau and I aren’t hampered by the rules and regulations of law enforcement. If we want to drive across town to get donuts at the place that is coincidentally right across the way from a certain motel, we can. If we’re lucky enough to see the driver of the maroon car that tried to run us down, and succeeded in breaking Esau’s arm, well then. No one will be able to stop us from calling Lamb and bringing down the hammer of the law.
No one pays any attention as Esau pulls into the lot of the donut shop and backs into a spot so we’ve got a view of the two-story motel through the windshield. Cutting the engine, he unbuckles his belt, eyes sweeping over the street. Not a single light is on at the motel aside from the one over the office. A vacancy sign blinks in the glass window.
No sign of the maroon car.
My shoulders slump forward into the seat belt. Disappointment flashes through my chest, catching me by surprise. I’m just now realizing that, during the entire drive over here, I assumed the maroon car would be there. That despite the sheriff and his deputies having no luck tracking the car, we’d be lucky—or unlucky—enough to find it.
I was secretly counting on it. Because I’m finally coming around to Audrey’s way of thinking. For the past couple of months, I’ve been trying to move on from the horror of our past by pretending everything was fine. That the unnerving and ominous messages were a hoax designed to freak us out without actually causing damage. But after the hit and run, the B & B, and the message commanding Audrey to appear in the park, I can’t pretend anymore. The threat, the danger is real. And it won’t go away until someone puts a stop to it.
I can’t afford to ignore the signs for another day. With that realization comes a resolve that crystalizes into diamond low in my gut. I’m going to do everything I can to catch the dirtbag who is terrorizing my family in a twisted imitation of the Gemini Killer. I’m going to stop them. I refuse to lose another person I love.
Esau and I are careful as we step out of the donut shop ten minutes later. His arms are full of a large pink box, and mine are laden with to-go trays of hot drinks.
I check the motel lot, and again come up empty. No maroon car anywhere to be seen. Barking out an annoyed snort, I’m still grappling with my realization regarding the Gemini Killer’s copycat. “Wow, that cashier. He was clearly not aiming for customer service rep of the year. He was on his phone the whole time. He didn’t even look me in the eye. Did you see that?”
