Don't Close Your Eyes (Don't Look Series Book 2), page 16
“What the hell? Who are—” Taryn screeches to a halt, whatever she was going to say dying on her lips.
The gun in the newcomer’s hand shuts her up. The man’s mouth curls in disgust. In his palm, the weapon doesn’t waiver. He stands with his back against our sealed door wearing blue scrubs just like the ones the hospital’s staff wear. His hair slicked back under a doctor’s scrub cap. A mask covers the lower half of his face.
I can’t reconcile the cruel shine of the gun’s barrel with the uniform. People who wear scrubs care for people. Help them. Heal their bodies and minds. Not brandish a gun in their faces. I push my gaze upward. To a face I recognize. Shock pulses through my body, making my muscles seize. My breath snags in my chest.
Chapter 25
It’s Nate. He’s got a gun, and it’s aimed straight at Taryn’s heart.
“Nate? What—what are you doing?” I shake my head, hoping to clear my vision. Change the face of the guy holding my sister and me at gunpoint. Blinking hard, I look again. Dark brunette hair and tan skin. Just like my friend. The same determined expression he used to make when he played soccer against Kate and me at summer camp. Nate is here, right now, pointing a gun at my sister.
Floating outside my body, I go back to that day in the park. Nate barely looked at me. Imbuing his reticence to meet me was easy. He was grieving, depressed. Desperately in need of someone to talk to, even if it wasn’t me. But now, looking at the guy standing in front of Taryn and me, it’s painfully obvious that he isn’t only depressed. He’s livid. At us.
Nate’s eyes jump back and forth between me and my mirror image. The gun jerks in his hand as he gestures a stubbly chin at Taryn. “You. You’re supposed to be dead. All of the headlines the past few days… I watched your sheriff’s statement over and over, just to be sure. I thought I had finally killed one of you. Why aren’t you dead?”
Taryn gulps. Her eyes are locked on the barrel of the gun. “Sorry?”
The boy’s eyes narrow. He takes a step forward.
I fling an arm in front of Taryn. Her fingers close painfully around my wrist, my skin red under her fingertips.
“You have no idea how sorry you’re going to be,” Nate snarls. “Kneel down.”
My eyes go wide. I’ve seen enough movies to know that when an insane person with a gun aimed at your heart commands you to kneel down, it’s bad. Very, very bad.
Okay, no kneeling.
Whipping my gaze over Nate confirms it—he definitely looks unhinged. There’s a wildness behind his eyes. As if he’s barely containing himself. His impulse to hurt us, whatever is causing it, is riding him mercilessly. Sweat trickles down his temple, and his foot taps on the linoleum floor in an absent way.
I have to keep him talking while I figure out what to do. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, wrestling my voice to remain steady. “Maybe if you tell us, we can help.”
“Kneel!” He sneers, scowl deepening.
Taryn’s knuckles are white as she gently pushes my arm down. “Hold on a second. Nate, you know us. We were friends that summer at camp. We used to watch clips of old TV shows online and mock them. Your favorites were from that lifeguard show… What was it called? We thought it was hilarious. Remember?”
Nate clenches his jaw. “Baywatch,” he spits. “Of course I remember. The second I heard your names on the news, I knew what I had to do. The Gemini Killer took my parents, and he’s dead. He didn’t have to pay for his crimes. But you two, you two can pay. I can make you. So I started sending those stupid notes to the newspaper, just to make you scared. It took me hours scouring magazines for all the letters I needed, but I figured they’d be harder to trace. And you know what? I was right. Your incompetent sheriff has no idea.”
The cruelty in his voice makes my entire body tense like too-tight strings on a violin. Screaming echoes in my ears. Taryn’s screaming from the day of our parents’ funeral. She wasn’t speaking to me then. I’ll never forget that primal, anguished sound. Her wail had sucked everything good and right out of the world. All that remained was emptiness and pain.
We’ve come so far from that day. We’ve come so far, and we can’t go back. We won’t.
Taryn resists when I try to push her behind me, but I’m determined. No one else is going to bleed for me. Especially not her. My only sister.
“Nate. Put the gun down. Please. We can talk about this. We lost our parents, too, but it wasn’t our fault. It wasn’t my fault. I had no control over the Gemini Killer.”
“You did! He was your sick boyfriend, or something. All of this is your fault.” It’s every fear, every ounce of guilt I’ve carried since the day my parents were slain, thrown at my feet by a boy gripped in the unyielding fist of anger.
I swallow. “I couldn’t stop him. He would have killed me. But you, you have the control in this room. You’re in charge. You can stop this. No one else needs to die, Nate.”
Deep-set eyes narrow as his head shakes. One hand releases the gun to swipe across his sweat-dampened forehead before enclosing the grip. “You’re wrong. Someone has to pay. I have to do this.”
“It’s never too late to let go,” Taryn says, arms wrapping around my waist from behind. Her chin slots into place over my shoulder. We’re a unit, she and I. Now more than ever. “Please let us go.”
“I can’t do that.” He adjusts his grip on the gun and edges closer.
The symbols debossed on the barrel of the weapon stand out starkly against the smooth metal. My eyes snap to the hole in the muzzle that at any second could unleash lightning-fast hell on Taryn and me. A shudder overtakes my body at the thought of it tearing through our flesh. Blood. Pain.
No more.
I can keep him talking. Someone is bound to notice something is wrong. Right?
As slowly as possible, I lift one hand to cover one of Taryn’s where they’re banded around my stomach. The pad of my pointer presses into her skin. One. Two. Three.
Her chin digs into my shoulder. It’s all the assent I need.
I stare at Nate, locking eyes as a matador with a raging bull ready to charge. Pour every bit of pain and determination into that look. The weight of it nearly steals my breath, but I don’t waver.
Nate’s finger eases toward the trigger, but his attention dips to Taryn’s hands. Something Justin said to us weeks ago at the gun range crystallizes in my head. It’s much more difficult to hit a moving target. Most people aren’t good enough shots to do it.
Another press on Taryn’s hand. One.
Two.
Three.
Taryn yanks away and bolts to the side, screaming for help. I rush in a wide arch toward Nate, praying Justin was right. My fists slam down on his elbow. Can I muster enough force to make him drop the gun? No.
A shot cracks the air..
Taryn’s screaming cuts off abruptly. My heart stops. If Taryn is hurt… Red shades my vision. I hammer at our attacker’s hands, ignoring the smoking barrel. A lamp rockets past Nate’s head and smashes into pieces against the wall.
Footsteps pound closer. Two sets. No, three? I can’t make them out between blows on Nate Anderson’s arms. A sickly, shocked gasp rises at the unexpected macabre pall of our reunion. I. Can’t. Stop. Until. He…
With an anguished growl, his fingers unwrap from the metal. The gun falls, hitting the floor with a clang and skidding away. Clutching his arm against his chest, our attacker lunges for it. I hurl toward him, landing on his back with a grunt. Our arms tangle as we hit and scratch. Try to keep each other from wrapping our greedy hands around the gun. His elbow catches in my side, stealing my breath. I wind my fist in his shaggy hair and rip.
Taryn scrabbles over the floor like a crab, plucking the gun off the ground and hoisting it like Karen and Justin taught us. She holds it like an expert. All those hours of gun safety and handling pay off in a blink.
My heartbeat skids as Taryn lowers the firearm, aiming it at Nate’s chest. When she speaks, it’s in a cold, flat tone I’ve never heard before. “We’ve had enough. This ends now.”
One corner of the guy’s mouth twists. “This doesn’t end until you’re both dead and in the ground.”
The door bursts open, the knob smashing into the wall. Deputy Kelley, Karen, and Justin stand in the brink, the women slightly in front of the recently injured agent man. Their guns raised, swiveling toward our attacker.
I don’t miss the moment their eyes glow in recognition. Last fall, during the attacks, they read the files on each of the Gemini Killer’s victims. Even face-down on the ground underneath me, they know the male Anderson twin.
Karen relieves Nate of his freedom of arm movement by encasing his wrists in handcuffs. Justin takes the gun from Taryn, emptying its clip and securing it in his belt.
“What happened?” Karen asks.
Taryn and I both talk at the same time, our explanations melding together into a long-winded story about everything Nate said and how we kept him talking until our favorite FBI agents arrived. When we’re done, I take deep gulps of air. It sounds unreal, when we put it all together like that.
Deputy Kelley takes custody of Nate and crab-marches him out of the room. He tosses a final glare at us over his shoulder as he goes, but even so, I can’t hate him. I know the pain he’s feeling. It’s merely been misplaced.
Karen encloses us in her arms, squeezing tight. “I have never had to watch over two such disaster-prone people. How many times are we going to have to rescue you two? Not that I’m not honored to do it.”
“Glad we got here in time. I’ve gotten rather fond of both of you.” Justin pats our shoulders, his movements stiff around the large bandage on his shoulder. His grin is lopsided in relief.
“Back at you,” I say.
“Seriously.” Taryn snuggles closer, and I wrap my arms around her. She holds me tight.
“That was way too close,” I whisper into my twin’s neck.
“You’re telling me. That crazy dude shot a hole in my sweater.” I gasp when she leans back enough to hold the billowing fabric out to reveal a hole near the side seam.
We’re interrupted by the sheriff and a couple of his deputies tromping into the room. He observes the scene with a practiced sweep. Rubbing at his temple with one hand, the older man eyes my sister and me. “You two all right?”
“I think so.”
“We’re so touched you care, Sheriff.” Taryn smiles at him.
Karen sweeps the room, eyeing the bullet hole in the far wall. Shards of a shattered lamp glitter in a pile behind the door. Finally, her attention returns to my sister and me. “Pack up your stuff, and we’ll go home as soon as we’ve given the sheriff the update.”
Taryn and I are already finished unpacking our things and sitting around the kitchen table, waiting for news, when Justin’s phone rings. His features tighten at whatever the person on the other end has to say. Glancing our way, he shifts. Probably debating stepping into the other room for privacy against the merits of leaving the trouble-prone Thomas twins alone for even a minute. Turning his back, he leans over the sink to peer out the kitchen window to the eucalyptus grove beyond. Whispers, “He wouldn’t say anything?”
I hold my breath. Karen went to the sheriff’s department an hour ago to interrogate Nate, and it sounds like he isn’t cooperating. My stomach churns, the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Justin made me no longer palatable. Any hope I had for clarity dies in my chest. Nate isn’t going to explain his motivation, his thought process, to Agent Biel. There will be no understanding why he blames Taryn and me for the pain he’s drowning in. No reasoning for what finally made him snap.
Once I’ve tossed my half-eaten sandwich, I lean back against the counter, lingering. Waiting for Justin to get off the phone. He’s just hung up, mouth opening to speak, when there’s a frenetic knocking at the front door. “Stay here,” Justin orders.
Taryn gets out of her chair, easing toward the archway to see who it is.
Noah. “I drove to the hospital, and it’s swarming with police. Then I got Audrey’s message that you’re all back here…”
“Kitchen,” Justin says.
A new set of footsteps comes tearing through the living room. Taryn melts into the wall, a frown fluttering over her face.
Noah skids into the doorway. “Is everyone okay? Are you—” His words die when he sees Taryn and me, looking rough. A purple bruise has already formed on my cheek where Nate landed a punch in the scramble for the gun.
Swiping his glasses off with one hand, my favorite guy cleans them on the front of his shirt. Slides them back onto his nose. “What happened? Audrey?”
My smile comes to life at the way he says my name. His cheeks are flushed pink, chest heaving as if he sprinted all the way here from the hospital. “Let’s go sit on the couch, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Sighing, he sinks down on the sofa, leaving no space between us. One light hand runs across my shoulders before draping on the cushion behind my neck. I open my mouth on a question, but he beats me to it. “Abuela is with the twins.”
Excusing herself, Taryn walks through the room for the stairs, phone already at her ear. I know without having to ask she’s calling Esau. Letting him know he can stop pretending she’s dead now.
“Wait a second, Taryn.” Justin stands in the archway, phone lowered to his side. “That was Karen with an update on Nate.”
“Nate?” Noah looks nonplussed.
Taryn spins on her heel, eyeing the agent. “Let me guess. Nate refused to cooperate?”
Justin’s affirmative nod is weighted.
“Nate? As in Anderson?” Noah looks to me. “Can I ask what he has to do with any of this?”
Taryn fades away up the stairs as I tell Noah all about our morning. His eyes grow wider as I speak. It loosens the knots in my stomach, talking about it, so I tell him everything. The shock. Fear. Pain. Relief when Karen, Justin, and the deputy burst into the room. When I’m finished, my head lolls back to rest on his arm. “Thanks for listening. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“You’re welcome, and me too.” Noah’s deep breath on my hair makes my heart flip in my chest like a dolphin frolicking in the ocean’s waves. I turn my cheek against the cushion, close enough to see the flecks of light in his eyes. Smiling, I snake my arms around his waist and press my cheek against his soft flannel shirt. “Want a sandwich? Justin makes a mean PB and J, but I think I could replicate it.”
Noah’s chin rests on top of my head as his arms go around me. “Maybe later.”
Nodding, my focus narrows to the warm, welcome pressure on my crown. I nestle my pleased grin against his chest. For the first time in almost three months, I can completely and fully relax. The maniac who has been torturing Taryn and me with threatening messages, stalking and shooting at us, is in custody. Given time, Sheriff Lamb will get to the bottom of Nate’s motivation, and he’ll likely be behind bars for quite a while. Maybe he’ll even get the help he obviously needs to deal with the tidal wave of emotions he’s likely feeling. Because despite everything he’s done to us, I can’t hate him.
I kind of wish I could, but what good would hate do anyway? None, that’s what.
Nate let his grief morph into a hatred so strong he went after Taryn and me, blaming us for something we didn’t do and had no control over.
On second thought, I take it back. I do hate him a little bit. It’s something to bring up at my next therapy appointment. Because unresolved anger clearly brings issues I do not want to deal with on top of my current stack.
Chapter 26
Day 334, Saturday
Audrey
I crane my neck to look up at the four-story, faded yellow building. Dim, miniscule windows run the length of the long concrete block like slots in an arcade game. I thought the twenty-foot high chain link fence with coils of barbed wire strung along the top was ominous enough, but the building takes it further. As far as I can see, it’s a landscape of concrete. Not a slip of green anywhere. All bleak, cold gray.
Swallowing, I turn to Karen. She tilts her head. “Ready?”
I follow her inside, through security. They don’t allow anything into the meeting room, not even my coat. So I shrug it off and hand it to a waiting officer, who tells me I can have my personal items back when I leave.
A maximum-security prison. It’s not somewhere I ever thought I’d be. After Justin told me I had been cleared to visit Mr. Baugh, it was all I could think about. What could the man have to say? I don’t know. Which is why I’m here, stepping into a long, wide room dotted with round tables bolted to the ground. Why I slide into the cold metal chair and wrap my hands around the edges of the seat to steady myself.
Mr. Baugh requested to see me. Taryn was antsy, wishing she could come hear what our former teacher and kidnapper has to say for himself. Her words.
A harsh buzz clangs through the room, and a door on the far side opens. A guard comes in, holding it against his back. One by one, men in vivid orange jumpsuits step into the room. A scruffy, rail-thin guy sits down at a table in the corner across from a woman who might be his wife or his daughter. A younger, bald inmate crouches in front of a toddler with beautiful, blond ringlets. Her toothy grin is wide as she flings her arms around his neck, giggling when he tickles her sides.
My throat tightens when Mr. Baugh enters. His eyes look past everyone until they land on me. Striding over, he takes a seat across the table. Looks from me to Karen, who is standing at my back. I don’t have to look to know she’s got a cold stare pinned on him.
The former teacher’s attention slides to my face, looking me over. “I’m not used to seeing you without your scar.”
My fingers rise to my unblemished cheek. “I didn’t need it anymore.”
He nods. Clears his throat. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, since I’ve been in here. About what I did.”
