Don't Close Your Eyes (Don't Look Series Book 2), page 13
Esau jostles the donut box to one hand, plucks his drink from one of the trays I’m carrying, and takes a long, savoring sip of his coffee. His rich eyes meet mine over its rim. “He stared at you the entire time we were in there.”
I stomp a bit, walking faster toward the truck. “I almost forget I have a scar and look like a weirdo, but then people have to be awesome and remind me. I wish they would just. Not. Hey, why did you stop?”
Esau stands still a couple steps behind me, brow furrowed over a stormy-eyed frown. Swallowing, he locks his gaze on mine. Something deep inside me slots into place at that look. The conviction, the depth of caring behind it. “You still feel like that scar makes you less beautiful?”
“No. Maybe.” I look away, trying not to let him see the vulnerability I know shows in my eyes.
In a blink, Esau stands toe to toe with me, the pink donut box abandoned on the truck’s roof. His fingers skim over my jaw, up the side of my nose to where the faint white line bisects my cheek from nostril to temple. His lips are a warm breeze over my skin, pressing gently on the white line that sometimes feels more like a giant, scarlet A. “You’re beautiful, Taryn. Don’t ever stop believing that.”
I wish I could drop these coffees and step into his arms. A ragged exhale deflates my ribcage. “What am I going to do next year when you’re gone and you can’t remind me?”
Taking the drink trays from me, he nudges me around the truck with his shoulder. I wait, knowing Esau will answer. When he does, my heart coils in my chest. Not knowing if what he says will be enough.
He stops when we reach my door, focuses on me. “We’ll talk on the phone every day. No matter what. And then when you graduate, you’ll move down there. I’ll become an award-winning director, and you’ll be a famous actress. Emma Stone won’t know what to do with herself.”
I sigh wistfully, warmed by the picture Esau paints. Proof that he really has factored me into his plans for his bright future. Neither of us knows what will happen a year from now, much less a few months, but I choose to believe his plan will work for us. I open my door, taking the proffered drink trays once I’m situated and buckled.
“Smells good,” Noah whispers. He’s awake but hasn’t moved, Audrey tucked against his side with her head lolling on his shoulder. His cheeks pink when he catches my eyes.
Audrey stammers an apology, her cheeks flushing when Noah nudges her awake and she notices the small puddle on his sweater. Being the unflappable, steady guy he is, Noah plays it off like it’s no big deal, saying something about being fully familiar with bodily fluids thanks to his kid siblings.
“Where are we?” she asks, rubbing her eyes.
“A & A,” Noah murmurs. “Want a donut?”
“We got you your favorite.” Wrapping a chocolate sprinkle in a napkin, I pass it back to her.
Audrey’s fingers wrap around it, her eyes catching mine. “Thanks.” She takes a bite and chews sleepily, eyes attempting to blink the sleep away.
I take out my phone, about to text Karen we’re on our way back, not noticing for a few seconds that the other three people in the truck’s cab have fallen eerily silent. When I look up, Esau’s hands grip the steering wheel in an unyielding grip.
“What?” I ask, looking from Esau to Audrey. My twin’s visage is tight, pale, like a ghost.
Eyes wide, she points toward the motel. “Look.”
Chapter 20
Dread towers in my stomach, and when my eyes land on the dated edifice, I see it. A maroon sedan. The license plate is different, the driver having ditched the stolen ones. I squint, trying to pick out any details that jog my memory. “You think that’s it?”
Audrey nods, not shifting her focus away from where the car parks, brake lights blood red. “See that sticker in the back window? I recognize it. From that day.”
Noah snaps a photo of it with his phone.
My fists clench. She means the day somebody tried to make a hood ornament out of me and ended up almost maiming my boyfriend.
A hooded figure gets out of the car and jogs for the stairs.
Behind us, Noah shouts, asking where I’m going. I don’t respond, laser focused on the hood climbing to the second story and traversing the open-air hallway. I narrow my eyes, hoping for a glimpse of the face under that hood, but whoever it is has it pulled so low I’d have to be standing dead-on to see any of their features.
A break in the morning flow of cars allows me to trot across the street, three sets of shoes at my heels. Crouching low, I slide between the outermost row of cars in the motel’s lot. I inch forward, knowing Audrey and the boys are right behind me. The faint simmer of body heat gives them away.
“Who is that?” Esau’s question rumbles in my ear.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
He tucks his chin over my shoulder and waits.
The hood goes into room 7. A light flicks on.
I slump. “Not even a glimpse.”
“That’s the same room I saw Nate coming out of, that day I saw him here meeting a girl. Coincidence, or could it be the same person?” Audrey asks, spinning to look at the boys over her shoulder.
Esau shakes his head. “I doubt it. This place is mostly for travelers who need someplace to stay the night. It’s not like there’s much bringing tourists to town, especially this time of year. What? As an employee of the business that puts on the only annual tourist event in this town, I know things.”
“Smarty pants,” I tease, but there’s no joy in it.
“Mr. Smarty Pants to you,” he rumbles back, gaze darting to mine.
“Should we call Karen and tell her the car is back here?” Audrey’s hair is bronzed by the golden streaks of the rising sun. Shit. We’re running out of time. It’s probably already gone. We’ve been near the donut shop for so long I’m surprised Karen hasn’t texted to see what’s keeping us.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “You want to find out if she means it when she threatens to lock us in the garage?”
“No.” Her brows scrunch together.
“Okay, then. Come on. You two stay here. Audrey and I will be right back.” Standing, I point at the asphalt between us.
Esau crosses his arms, gives a rough shake of his head. Not a chance, that firm line of his mouth says. Noah crosses his arms too, looking decidedly less gruff, but no less adamant. Rolling my eyes, I wave for them to follow. Hood may be locked in their motel room, but their blinds are open. This donut run might actually turn a profit.
We manage to get all the way upstairs before a little old man comes out of his room. When he sees us, his face turns down in a scowl.
“Morning,” I say.
The old man grunts, lifting his cane and shaking it in Noah’s face. “Your music was way too loud last night. Not everybody wants to hear that racket. Didn’t your parents teach you to be more considerate?”
“Sorry, sir. We’ll keep it down.” Noah lowers his head in a polite half-bow.
The old man grunts again, in obvious displeasure as he passes, gripping his cane and muttering something that sounds a lot like kids these days.
I feel like a special agent or a super spy as I sink onto hands and knees and crawl the last few feet to sit under the window we’re aiming for. I’m just about to take a peek when—
SNAP
The window blinds jerk closed.
Of course.
“Anyone else got any ideas?”
We’re a murmured chorus of “Nos,” so Noah leads the way down the stairs. At the bottom, he looks from me to Audrey. Dark curls have fallen over his eyes and he pushes them back. Scrubs the back of his neck. “I think I saw something. Audrey, you don’t think… The person who mugged you, could it have been a woman?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. With the voice modulator it sounded more like a robot than a person.”
I almost slam into my sister when she stops abruptly, then hunches to peer in the passenger window of the suspicious car. Looking up, seeking my eyes, she points through the window. “That’s my phone case.”
I dial Sheriff Lamb without even thinking about it.
“Yeah?” he answers after a single ring.
“We’re at the motel, and the maroon car is here. Audrey’s phone is on the seat.”
There’s a heavy silence over the line, the only sound an exhale from Lamb’s end that sounds decidedly annoyed. Then, “What are you doing at the motel?”
“We were getting donuts, and Audrey saw the car. We came over to have a look.”
The sheriff is definitely annoyed when he speaks. “Go back to A & A, and do not leave there until someone arrives to escort you. If you aren’t sitting at one of their tables when I get there, I will personally drive you home and lock you inside. And stay on the line until you’re there. Got it?”
I grumble a response, motioning for my friends to start toward the street.
We’re all tucked into a booth at the donut shop, eating in silence and staring across the street when the hood comes out of their hotel room. I perk up, leaning toward the window. Lamb hasn’t arrived yet. No sirens indicate his approach, although I guess he wouldn’t use them if he was hoping to surprise the driver of that car.
He picks up as soon as the call goes through. “You better be in the donut shop.”
“I am! Where are you? The driver’s getting in the maroon car, carrying a duffle bag. It looks like they’re leaving.”
As if he knows I’m inching toward the shop door, he orders me to stay put. “I’m almost there.”
My heart makes a racket in my chest as the maroon car pulls up to the lot’s entrance. The driver has a balaclava on, making it impossible to see their face through the glass.
“They’re leaving!” I yell into the phone.
Lamb’s engine guns in my ear.
The car glides into the traffic streaming toward the freeway. I watch until the car disappears out of my line of sight. “They went south on 99,” I say flatly into the phone.
Sheriff Lamb’s Bronco streaks past the donut shop and wheels onto the onramp’s shoulder as he navigates past commuters and onto the freeway. But I’m pretty sure he won’t catch whoever it is he’s chasing.
Chapter 21
Day 328, Sunday
Audrey
Taryn moans. “So this is what freedom tastes like. It’s so delicious.” Stabbing the slice of cake on the plate nearest her, she scoops up another huge bite and eats it with relish. That one’s lemon poppy seed. Or orange cardamom. I think.
Eyeing her response with interest, Justin snags the plate. The ceramic shrieks as he drags it over the tabletop to rest in front of him. “If it’s so good, I have to try it. It is MY wedding we’re planning, after all. Can’t skimp on cake for the groom. Mmm, this is good.” He finishes off that slice and studies the remaining six flavor samples the baker gave us to try.
It’s wedding cake tasting day, and is easily my favorite part of helping plan Karen and Justin’s wedding so far. It even beats choosing the floral arrangements, which was a highlight because Karen let me pick the flowers for her bouquet. When she looked at me so expectantly, warmth seeped through me. She trusted me to decide for her, because of my green thumb. It was pretty cool.
My eyes fall on the empty chair where Karen should be, and I frown. The bride-to-be, who never gets sick that I can tell, is home with a wicked case of food poisoning. Something she ate at the diner last night did not sit well with her stomach, and it hasn’t been pretty. I don’t think she slept at all, if the almost constant toilet flushing is a reliable indicator.
With the corner of my eye, I glimpse Esau clomping by the storefront, his focus flickering inside the bakery and away. My mouth tilts up. He’s done that three times in the last half hour, and if I’ve noticed, Justin has too. But Justin is team Karen. She banned us from any activities besides school and drama club, including dates or outings with our boyfriend and potential boyfriend, when she found out we used the donut trip to snoop at the motel. Taryn’s been going stir-crazy. Hence the almost euphoric way she’s savoring the cake sample she’s got in front of her. You’d think Karen fed us bread and water for the past week, the way my sister is grinning.
I try to hide my snicker by taking a drink, and only succeed in choking when the cool milk goes down the wrong tube.
Someone outside holds a newspaper up to read while they walk. It’s yesterday’s paper, based on the headline:
Reporter Receives New in Line of Threatening Messages
Your time is running out.
I wipe at my face with a napkin, hoping I don’t have a milk beard. My next bite of cake tastes like nothing but bitterness in my mouth. Your time is running out. I’ve gone back over the previous murder notes a hundred times. One day I’m convinced they’re all directed at me. The next, someone else entirely. There’s no way to know for sure. It seems like they’re for me if I go by the string of attacks we’ve endured. And yet. The wording of some of them doesn’t ring true. The warnings don’t pluck at my instincts, urging me to run. Hide. Fight back. I don’t know what to make of them.
Your time is running out.
If it’s about me, I don’t know what to believe anymore.
Justin pats my back with one hand, taking another bite of red velvet cake. “I don’t know. That mocha toffee one was good, but this might be my favorite.”
“It’s the color of blood,” Taryn sneers. “Plus, it’s boring. Everyone has red velvet at their wedding. I think Karen would appreciate a more unique flavor. Something memorable. Like the white chocolate pistachio.”
I wrinkle my nose. I did not like that one.
“Oh come on, Audrey. It’s perfect. Plus, the white and green will go beautifully with the colors Karen picked.” She points her licked-clean fork at me.
“You picked the colors, and I’m sorry. I hate that flavor. You know my stance on nuts in desserts.”
“Desserts with nuts are from the devil. How could I forget?” Taryn rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re so dramatic.”
This time it’s Justin’s turn to choke on his milk. Sputtering, he stands up. “Sure, Audrey’s the dramatic one in our family.”
Our family.
The word reverberates through my body, burrowing through my skin and muscles and organs into the marrow of my bones. Our family. Something warm seeps out of the paths made by Justin’s words, from bone through blood and flesh. We are becoming a family. What started as a temporary protection measure has become something so much greater. We’re not legally bound to each other, but I know that Karen and Justin care for us, just the same. They proved it the day, shortly after that sicko was killed, they rejected the offer of another job in another place so they could stay with Taryn and me in Hacienda. In the creepy old house that had somewhere along the way become a home.
Family.
It’s something I never thought I’d have again. Never considered. Justin’s eyes sparkle when I beam up at him. Without saying anything, I sense he knows how grateful I am for him and Karen. For the way they care for us. Every day. Even when we’re complete idiots.
“You sure you don’t want this divine piece of heaven?” Taryn gestures toward the marble cake she’s ogling like it’s one of her cheerleading trophies.
“I can’t eat anymore, or I’ll be as sick as Karen.” Pushing back from the table, I pull my phone out of my pocket and light it up. Immediately my eyes home in on one of the notifications. A new message from CuteAshleeXOXOXO.
“This cake is so good, I could die right now and be happy.” My sister’s eyes are closed. What a drama llama. She throws her head toward the door when Justin points an elbow toward the shop’s large, bright front windows.
“Might as well invite him in. He’s been outside the entire time we’ve been here.” Justin takes another bite, not quite hiding a smile.
A chuckle slides between my lips. I had the exact same idea about inviting Noah to “accidentally” bump into us while we were here at the bakery, but he couldn’t make it. Babysitting duty, he said. What he didn’t say, but what I could detect every time we talked on the phone and were interrupted by his mom, was that she doesn’t want him spending time around me. His flimsy excuses for ending our conversations made my heart hurt. She liked me until I dragged Noah into the mess that is my life. Honestly, I can’t blame her. Guilt over the hurt I’ve caused the people I care about follows me like a ghost these days.
I glance at Taryn. Maybe I should talk to her about it, sometime. Maybe she can relate.
“You mean it? Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Justin chuckles when Taryn rises from her seat and is off like a shot, throwing open the bakery’s glass door and practically yanking Esau inside. Pulling him toward our table, she shoves him into the seat and hands him her fork. “You have to try this: it’s white chocolate pistachio.”
My finger hovers over the screen, hesitating. CuteAshlee has been silent lately. A relief. I had almost convinced myself that they were done haunting us. We’ve gone weeks without any violence. Looking at that notification, my hope dies. The cease-fire was temporary.
Esau eyes the cake before taking a bite. Closing his eyes, he nods. It’s as effusive as I’ve ever seen the big guy. Taryn beams. “See? He loves it!”
Clicking on the message, I read.
10
Ten? What is that supposed to mean?
Almost immediately, CuteAshlee starts typing.
9
8
My eyes zoom over the numbers as they count down.
7
6
Blood rushes from my cheeks, leaving me cold.
5
4
What is this? What are they counting down to?
3
Almost frantic, I look around the bakery. A dad is sharing a huge, fudgy brownie with his toddler daughter in the corner. A few people from school are at the table in the back eating cookies and slurping down ice-cold milk.
2
Outside, pedestrians walk past on both sides of the street, doing their Saturday shopping. Cars pass in a steady stream. There’s no sign of danger anywhere.
