Don't Look Behind You (Don't Look Series Book 1) Emily Kazmierski (ereader that reads to you TXT) 📖

Visions of viscous, crimson blood on bright green latex gloves swim across my vision, tainting the hung map red. It creeps across the wall, inching closer and closer to where I’m sitting at Noah’s desk with my refurbished laptop. I’m supposed to be going through my backlog of photos to find ones that are the right colors for our project, but all I can see is red.

My throat tightens. “I need to go.”

Noah jumps up from where he’s sprawled on the carpet, head propped on his hand. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Ever so gently, his fingers brush my elbow. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

“I’m wiped. Long day.”

He huffs in agreement. “It’s almost dinnertime. We could order pizza or something.”

It’s a sweet gesture, and I try to plaster a smile on to my face, not sure if I succeed. “Thanks, but not tonight. I really should get home.”

He nods, adjusting his glasses up his wide nose. “Maybe next time.”

I pack up my stuff quickly, avoiding looking at the back of the door. Avoiding Noah’s eyes. I’m afraid if I meet his gaze, he’ll be able to see the panic behind my own. The fear and revulsion that war inside me.

On the way home, I ask Aunt Karen if she can pick up a couple things for me when she’s at work tomorrow.

The old house creaks and groans when we unlock the door and step inside. Despite the sun’s high position outside, all of the blinds are closed to shutter out the radiant heat. Dropping my backpack onto the floor with a thud, I head to the kitchen for snacks and the cardboard box I know is on the back porch. I hesitate before unlocking the back door, an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

If Justin’s working with the Mayday Killer, he could be waiting back there to help finish what the murderer started.

I spend a long minute peeking through the back window to make sure there’s no one hidden out there before I unlock the door, snatch the box, and slam it shut in a blink. Slide the bolt into place with heart stammering behind my ribs.

A while later, Aunt Karen comes back downstairs wearing an oversized tee and yoga pants. “What’s going on in here?” she asks as she comes into the kitchen. Her hair is down around her shoulders with the ponytail crease still visible. It’s the most casual I’ve ever seen her.

“I made spaghetti,” I say, gesturing to where two pots are sitting on the stove with flickering blue flames underneath. It gave me something to focus on other than the grizzly news from earlier. Not even the orchids she brought home from the grocery store for me could hold my attention.

“Thank you. I’m starving.” My guardian dishes herself some food, exclaiming over how delicious it looks. I’m flattered even though it came out of a jar ready-made. It’s probably not that good.

We eat in quiet, the old house settling around us as the temperature slowly falls with the sun.

Aunt Karen thinks she’s being covert by sneaking glances at me whenever she takes a drink from her water glass, but I see her. And ignore her. I don’t have anything to say. Noah’s map surges to the front of my mind, zeroed in on the newest pin.

Actually, maybe I do want to talk.

“The Mayday Killer struck again.”

“I know.” My guardian’s tone is measured, as if she’s afraid to give her voice free rein.

“Hanfield is less than an hour away from here.”

Aunt Karen’s fork stills over her plate. She sighs. “The police are doing everything they can to apprehend him. They’re building blockades and checkpoints. All public transit is being checked. That… man can’t hide forever. He’ll be caught. Soon.”

“It’s been six months since his first.” And he’s been able to evade capture the whole time.

Aunt Karen starts to reach across the table to where my free hand is lying, but straightens the napkin in her lap instead. “I promise you I won’t let anything happen to you while you’re living under my roof. I probably shouldn’t do this, but I could teach you how to handle my firearm. I’ll show you where the safe is, if that would make you feel safer. What do you think?”

I bite my lip, curious. “No, I don’t think I’d like that.”

“If you ever change your mind.”

We go back to eating in the silence. Aunt Karen’s gun is never far from my thoughts. Before any of this, I had never fired a gun. My parents were staunchly anti-firearms and hadn’t kept any in the house. But now? I’m afraid of what I would do. What might happen if I had access to a life-ending weapon.

“You know, if you ever need anything and I’m not here, you can ask our neighbor across the street, Justin.”

She says it so lightly, like there’s nothing behind it. Sometimes her cool manner of speaking scares me just a little. Even if I was freaking out and Aunt Karen wasn’t here, I don’t think I’d have the guts to go across the street and ask Justin for help.

“He gives me the creeps. And I think he’s been following me. What if he’s dangerous?”

“Who? Justin?” Her incredulous tone slides right under my skin.

My voice rises. “He brought me my history book after I left it at school. At Noah’s. How did he know where I was? And how did he know I needed my book?”

Aunt Karen finishes chewing her bite. “He’s not dangerous. I asked him to grab the book for you.”

My eyes swim as the spaghetti on my plate morphs into blood and grit smeared across the floor. I push my plate away, squeezing my eyes shut. She asked him. That actually makes some sense. Maybe I’m making more of Justin than is really there. My tense muscles relax just a bit.

Aunt Karen eats a couple more tiny bites. I don’t blame her for her reticence. The noodles are still a little crunchy.

“There’s