Don't Look Back (13 page)

When Scott returned home after baseball practice, I took my purse and my hastily scribbled directions down to the garage. I had a couple of hours before the sun set, so I managed to avoid most of Scott’s questions. I felt bad for being short with him, especially because he was letting me borrow his car, but I didn’t have much time.

It took me a little over forty minutes to reach Michaux State Forest and to find the summerhouse. Common sense told me that if I was going to start anywhere, it would be there.

Easing the car down the gravel road, I leaned over the steering wheel as a two-story log cabin came into view. Two garage doors were under the raised porch, and the entire front of the house was nothing but windows. A patch of land had been cleared around the front, and trees choked the back of the house. Parking the car, I clenched the keys in my hand and climbed out.

Shivering, I inhaled the scent of pine and rich soil. Something else lingered behind the scent—wet, familiar.
Most of the houses I passed on the way up had screened-in porches, but this house had a tiered deck. My sneakers crunched over gravel and tiny, broken branches as I headed toward the steps. I tried to picture summers here, walking this very same path dozens of time.
The stairs groaned under each step, echoing and causing me to wince. A large, empty ceramic flowerpot sat in the corner. I went up the second set of stairs, to the main deck that appeared to wrap around the whole house.
As expected, the front door was locked. I crept along the railing of the porch. There was a can full of cigarette butts that looked newish. Mom and Dad claimed that the home hadn’t been opened since last September, but I doubted the butts would’ve retained their color that long.
Had someone been here? Did I smoke?
Shaking my head, I moved toward the back of the house, and there was the sound of something rushing, peaceful. It sparked the unrest inside me, stirring the abyss where my memories existed. The sound...
Water
.
Excitement bubbled. I knew that sound—
the lake.
Hurrying down the back steps, I half slid down the sloping hill that met the heavy wooded area. The ground was covered with small rocks and fallen branches, and despite the fact that I had no conscious memory of the layout here, I navigated the area with ease. Maybe I had been back this way before? There was no other way to explain it. Anyone without some knowledge of the woods behind the house would probably break his or her neck wandering around at night. Pushing bare, low-hanging branches out of the way, I headed toward the source of the sound.
Up ahead, there was a boat docked.
Angel
. Recognizing the boat from one of the photos on my wall, I stepped on the dock, caught off guard when it bobbed under my feet. My gaze drifted beyond the boat, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
The lake was a deep, glossy blue and larger than I’d expected. The surface dipped and rolled gently in the breeze, holding a lifetime worth of secrets in its depths. It went on as far as I could see, curving around a bend. I lifted my gaze and couldn’t find anywhere nearby that would explain my memory of falling. There were just trees with tiny buds and boats docked all around the lake.
Shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, I trekked across the man-made beach, following the shoreline. Detective Ramirez had mentioned a waterfall, which seemed like the likeliest place for someone to take a fall.
I rubbed the sleeve over the scratches on my arm, trying not to think about how they’d gotten there. The sand was eventually replaced by mud that formed a weathered trail. Trees began to crowd the edges of the lake, and the farther I went, the louder the sound of rushing water became. I inched around a large oak and came to a standstill.
Water spilled over a rocky cliff, slamming into the lake twenty feet below. Frothy white water bubbled over sharp, jagged rocks jutting out of the lake. Lifting my gaze, vertigo swept over me. I reached out blindly, placing my hand on the tree for support.
Around a hundred feet above the waterfalls was a cliff. It wasn’t a smooth descent from there. Large rocks protruded from the side of the mountain, rising up between thick bushes and smaller trees. A stream of water snaked its way down the hill.
I had a hard time believing someone would’ve made that fall. There were too many bone-breaking obstacles in the way. But if someone was pushed... he or she would’ve cleared the hill. My eyes moved down the horrific drop. The person would’ve ended up in the lake below.
An unnerving sense of rightness settled deep in my bones. Pushed—Cassie had to have been pushed. And me? Did I take the same fall? I shuddered as I recalled the memory of falling . . . and falling. That had to be it.
Seeing the cliff didn’t spark any memories in me, but I knew—
I just knew
this was where it all had gone down. There had to be another way to get up there. The climb was too steep, and I doubted I would’ve made it. I needed someone who knew his or her way around here, who could get me up there. Maybe Scott? Carson? My belly warmed at the latter. He might know his way around, but running to him didn’t make sense, especially after seeing him with Dianna—
Snap!
I froze. What was that sound? Straining, I held my breath and listened. Birds chirped and the branches above swayed, but those weren’t what I’d heard.
Snap!
Another twig snapped, followed a few more seconds by the same, distinct sound of someone walking. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose, and my heart leaped into my throat.
It came again, closer.
Spinning, I scanned the trees. It could be anyone—someone out walking or jogging. I strained to listen but heard nothing. Not even natural sounds. The whole forest had fallen deathly quiet.
A blur of black darted behind a tree up ahead. Catching it out of the corners of my eyes, I noticed that it was tall and definitely not bear-shaped.
“Hello?” I called out, my fingers clenching the car keys.
There was no response, and I couldn’t see whatever or whoever it was. Willing my heart to slow down, I started back toward the summerhouse. I’d made it about five feet before I heard a crunching sound behind me. I whirled around, eyeing the gloom that was falling between the trees.
The shape shot between two trees. The shape was male— dressed in black. A cap was pulled down, hiding his face. Hope sparked, but it was quick extinguished by dread. It couldn’t be Carson. He wouldn’t hide behind trees, and he would’ve answered when I called out.
A normal person would’ve answered when I called out.
Icy fingers of anxiety trailed down my spine. My chest compressed as I took a step back. “Hello?”
Nothing.
Throat dry, I turned around and picked up my pace. It could be anyone—it also could be whoever was responsible for what had happened to Cassie and me. Not wanting to take any chances, I glanced over my shoulder. I saw nothing at first, and then... he was several feet behind me, off the trail, moving in quick, ground-eating strides.
I stopped.
He halted.
I took a step forward ... and his step matched mine.
This... this wasn’t good. Warning bells went off. Instinct kicked in, and I took off. Over the sounds of my feet slapping on the ground and my thundering heart, I heard him crashing through bushes. Coming after me, chasing me...
I darted through the trees, kicking up dirt and small stones. Fear caught my breath as I pushed at the branches ripping at my hair. The edge of my sneaker caught on an exposed root, and I spilled forward, my knees and palms taking the brunt of the fall. Rocks ripped open my hands, tearing the denim and then the skin on my knees. I yelped in response to the sharp pain.
My vision dimmed. The color of the fallen leaves and muddy brown faded into gray.
Not now. Please, God, not now.
It was too late—I was sucked into the vision.
I was crawling on the ground, one hand in front of the other. No. Not the ground—a rocky, slippery hill. Pebbles and clumps of dirt broke free, pelting my face. I was numb, moving only on instinct. Nothing hurt. I clawed my way up, and my fingers slipped. Grasping wildly at rocks, roots, anything I could get my hands on, I slid down several feet, losing whatever ground I’d gained. My hands were gray, but red streaked the backs of them, caking my fingers. Nails cracked open.
Gasping in air, I blinked and color returned to the world. I looked over my shoulder. Two legs encased in black jeans stood a few feet behind me. Terror punched me in the gut. Scrambling over the ground, I ignored the pain and ran.
It felt as if an eternity had passed before the boats came into view and my feet hit the sand. I didn’t dare look back as I rushed toward the woods separating the lake from our house. My breath pawed at my chest as I shot free of the tangled branches and darted around the porch.
I cried out when I saw Scott’s car. Kicking up gravel, I slid around the hood and finally looked behind me.
No one was there.
Turning around, I scanned the thick trees. He could be hidden anywhere, waiting to jump out and do... do what? Finish what he’d started? But why? Who was he? I reached for the handle and the door opened. Had I locked the car when I left? I couldn’t remember.
Climbing in, I quickly pressed the button on the side to lock all the doors. I slumped in the seat, dragging in deep breaths that shook my entire body. I was nauseated and dizzy—adrenaline had me feeling as if I’d drank one too many energy drinks.
I opened my eyes and put shaky hands on the steering wheel as I glanced at the passenger seat. A piece of yellow paper folded into a triangle was resting on it. My heart took another painful jump.
That hadn’t been in the car before.
Hands trembling, I reached over and picked up the piece of paper, quickly unfolding it. There was just one sentence, written in the same childish handwriting that was becoming as familiar as my own.

You know who killed Cassie. I threw the note in my purse and started the car. Peeling out of the gravel driveway, I maneuvered the car down the narrow road, the back of my neck tingling.

Keeping my breaths long and even, I pulled out onto the main highway. I couldn’t afford to think of what had just happened. Time to freak out would come later, when I wasn’t behind the wheel of my brother’s car. I reached for the volume on the radio, wanting to drown out my thoughts, when I glanced up.

All I saw was the dark shape of
him
in the backseat, a brief glimpse in the rearview mirror. The world tilted, pitching me to and fro behind the steering wheel.

Oh my god.
He is in my car.
Terror rolled through me like thunder through the sky, dark and threatening, stealing my breath. Everything happened so fast. I thought about stopping, jumping out of the car and running, or slamming on the brakes. But I didn’t know what I did. Panic seeped from my pores, coating my skin. My brain was firing useless signals. There was a blast of a horn that sounded like it was miles away, and I couldn’t breathe.
He’s in my car.
A scream rose from the depths of my body as the darkness moved toward me, and then
this
sound—metal crunching, ripping apart—cut off my scream. Knocked to the side in one heartbeat, I was jerked back in the next, slamming my head off the steering wheel. Fierce, blinding, paralyzing pain stabbed at my skull. Glass shattered, picking at my skin.
And then there was nothing.

An annoyingly persistent beeping sound thrust
me into a world where my skin felt too tight, too dry. And every—
every
—part of my body ached as if I’d gone one-on-one with a truck. My eyes opened into thin slits, and the lights were too harsh. I moaned, immediately closing them. I wished I could disappear back into the darkness. “Sam?” The bed dipped beside me. “Sam, are you awake?” The sound of my brother’s voice dragged me back, forcing

my eyes to open. His face loomed over mine, blocking some of the light. Dark shadows blossomed under his eyes. His hair was a mess, sticking up every which way.

He smiled weakly. “Do you remember me?”
“Yeah,” I croaked, wincing. I tried lifting my arm, but something tugged on my hand painfully. Tubes. There were tubes everywhere, connecting to that damn beeping machine. I wet my lips.“What ... what happened?”
“You were in a car accident.” He dragged his hand through hair. “Dad’s out in the hall, talking to the doctors. The police think you lost control on the highway.”
I struggled to sit up, too weak to really lift my head. “What about the other driver? Are they okay?”
“Don’t try to sit up. I got it.” Scott grabbed an extra pillow off the chair and then gently slid his fingers under my head, lifting slowly as he got the pillow under me. “The other driver was clipped. They’re fine.”
My head protested the movement, as did most of my body. “Your car ... oh my god, I’m sorry.”
Scott settled back down, rolling his eyes as he fixed the thin hospital blanket. “I don’t care about the stupid car. It’s already taken care of. I’ll get a rental in the morning.” His eyes lifted, meeting mine. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I was in a car accident,” I said, lifting my free hand once I figured out that one wasn’t hooked up to anything. I touched my head gingerly. There was a bandage on my forehead. “How... bad is it?”
“Nothing too serious. Not like you need your brain anyway, right?”
I laughed and then groaned. “Ow.”
“You got a lot of bruises and probably will hurt for a while, but you’ll survive.”
“That’s good.” I closed my eyes, wanting to move but knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea. Something waited on the fringes of my thoughts. Something I couldn’t quite grasp. A quick peek through the window told me that night had fully fallen. “How long have I been here?”
He glanced over my shoulder, sighing. “It’s close to five in morning. You’ve slept this entire time.”
Oh god.
“I think I heard the doc saying he was going to keep you through today for observation after everything ... else.” He smiled again, but there was an edge to it. Wariness. “So you get out of school the rest of the week. Way to go.”
I wanted to laugh and joke, but his smile nagged at me. “You’ve been here this whole time?”
Scott nodded. “Del the Dick stopped by before they ended visiting hours. So did Julie.” He paused, a real grin tugging at his lips. “And after I texted Carson, he was here in under ten minutes. Was not happy when they wouldn’t let him stay.”
“Carson,” I murmured.
“Yeah, he... was really worried, sis. He and I are going to have to talk about that.” A troubled look eroded the teasing grin. “Sam, the EMTs and police said you were talking when they arrived on the scene. Something about—”
Dad entered the room, looking every inch the poster child for country club member of the month. Not a single piece of his hair was out of place. He came right to the other side of the bed, smiling down at me.
“How are you feeling, princess?” he asked, brushing the hair off my bandaged forehead.
“Okay.” I glanced at my suddenly quiet brother. “Where’s Mom?”
Dad’s smile faltered. “She was here earlier, but she’s at home...resting.”
I blinked back the tears that sprang to my eyes. Mom hadn’t stayed. I was in the hospital, hooked up to machines, and my mom was at home
resting
. I hurt all over, and my mom wasn’t even here. And I wanted her—suddenly needed her—to tell me I was okay.
Maybe she couldn’t look at me anymore, believing that I’d had something to do with Cassie’s death—it all came rushing back then.
Going to the cabin, finding the lake and the cliff above the waterfalls, then the man chasing me, the note... the car—my heart started pounding, and the machine matched the beats.
I struggled again to sit up, but Scott and Dad kept me still. “You don’t understand,” I gasped, head throbbing. “There was someone in the car. He was in the backseat. Did they get him?”
Dad pushed down on my shoulders lightly, clearing his throat. “Samantha, there was no one in the car.”
My forehead ached. “No. You don’t understand. He was following me in the woods, and he put this note in my car—”
“What were you doing up at the summerhouse?” My dad’s eyes met mine.
I glanced at Scott, swallowing. Who cared why I was there? Didn’t they understand? “I thought if I went up there ... I’d remember what happened.” My throat felt like paper. Each sound was like a dry whisper. “Dad, he was chasing me. And then he was in the car. That’s why I wrecked.”
“Who is he?” Scott asked.
“Scott,” my father warned.
My brother’s face darkened. “Sam, who was following you?”
“I don’t know who he was.” I pressed the palm of my hand to my brow. “I didn’t get a good look at his face, but he’s been leaving me notes.” Recognition flickered in his eyes. “I put the note in my bag—where is my bag?”
Then Scott looked at our Dad, who shook his head. “What?” I demanded.
“Sweetie, you should get some rest.” Dad grabbed my hand, pulling it away from my face. “You’re getting yourself worked up.”
I pulled my arm away. Something tightened in my chest. “Is my bag still in the car?”
“No,” Scott answered, looking away. “Your bag was in your bedroom. You didn’t take it with you.”
“What?” My head swam in confusion. That made no sense. “That’s not right. I brought it with me, and I put the note in it.”
Scott shook his head, his voice sad. “Sam, we had to get your bag because you didn’t have ID on you when the police got to the scene. You didn’t take it with you.”
I felt cold as I stared at him, but I started to sweat. “But there was a guy in the car....”
“There was no one in the car.” Dad placed his hand over mine.
No. No. No.
“He was in the backseat. And he was following me. I didn’t—” A sour-faced nurse came in, not saying a word as she went to the tubes hooked up to the IV. There was a needle in her hand. Panic curled around my insides. “What is she doing? Dad?”
“She’s just giving you some pain medication.” He patted my hand. “It’s okay.”
I watched her press down on the needle. Fluid bubbled in the IV. She left without looking at me or saying a word. I thought nurses were supposed to be nice. “Dad...”
“You need to rest.”
I didn’t want to rest. I wanted them to believe me. Turning my head, I met my brother’s troubled eyes. “Scott, someone was following me when I was at the cabin. And someone had been there. There were fresh cigarette butts and—”
“Honey, that was from me.” Dad thrust a hand over his head. “Sometimes I go up there to smoke. Your mother doesn’t know. I quit years ago, but with everything recently...”
I stared at him. “But... but someone was in the car. He scared me and that’s why I lost control.”
Scott’s eyes cast down. “Sam, the car doors were locked when the police got there.” He said his next words slowly, carefully. “He couldn’t have locked the car doors after he left the car. The computer in the car was fried. They had to cut the car door open to get you out.”
Oh man, his car.
“The insurance company is already—”
I cut my dad off. “There was someone in the car.” My voice rose, cracking. All of it had been too real to be a hallucination. And I had a vision—a memory of crawling. How could I have a vision inside of a hallucination? “I didn’t imagine it! I’m not making it up.”
Dad sat back, looking helpless. “I know you’re not making it up, sweetie. I don’t doubt that you believe someone was in the car.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, understanding what he wasn’t saying. “I’m not crazy.”
He made a strange noise, and he looked like he was about to crack—like he was about to crumble into a thousand pieces. “I know, baby. You’re not crazy.”
And I knew right then, when he looked away and a muscle popped in his jaw, that he didn’t believe what he was saying.