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Back Confess to Me Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Sharon Doering
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. 71
  77. 72
  78. 73
  79. 74
  80. 75
  81. 76
  82. 77
  83. 78
  84. 79
  85. Author’s Note
  86. Acknowledgements
  87. About the Author

Sawyer admitted that a couple of kids he’d met at school brought him to a party, then to the woods to shoot. I was fine with both. I’d done the same thing with friends when I was sixteen. Guns were the norm in this town. Both high schools gave kids three days off in November for hunting. I had walked into school on those mornings, wearing my knife, my rifle strapped around my neck, to grab homework. I told Sawyer I’d take him shooting a few more times, that it was safer to go with his dad.

He liked that. He was a good kid.

I pushed the flathead into Sawyer’s door handle and turned. The handle gave.

Moonlight cast a blue glow on Sawyer’s black bedspread, which was thrown back, revealing gray sheets and nothing else. Empty.

Seriously, Sawyer?

The blinds were up, the kid’s window was wide open. So was the screen. So much for keeping mosquitoes and spiders out of the house. Man, Sawyer. Now I got to worry about being caught by you too. Where was he?

From the open window, I checked up and down the street. It was dark and vacant except for the glow of a phone in the driver’s seat of the car—the one waiting for me.

There was a sturdy branch of a crab apple tree a couple feet from the window, but I bet the kid skipped the tree. If he hung from his fingertips at the window ledge, his feet would only have been six feet from the ground.

I felt a surge of love for the kid and his boldness, this teenage daredevil.

Bad timing though, Sawyer. I sighed. Bad fucking timing.

If Sawyer happened to see me get into the car down the street, I would have hell to pay with the kid. Would Sawyer rat me out to Heather? I didn’t think so.

I stepped quietly down the stairs, my feet bare, my shoes in hand. I hated to leave Emily home alone.

41

41

HEATHER

While Judy slept, I watched an old movie and sketched a bird on my wrist with a blue pen—a sloppy imitation of Desiree’s tattoo. Pathetic, really. I thought about Desiree, how her life had led her to become this person: bold, unapologetic, apathetic, dangerous. I thought about Becky, who was none of those things. I muted the volume on the television and drifted off to sleep.

I dreamed I was chasing butterflies with that little girl from my childhood. Her brother was there too. He was clumsy, all chubby knees and elbows, and kept tumbling in the grass.

A pair of tiny white butterflies flitted and swirled around each other, touching down on the grass for a brief rest, and off again.

We passed a tree with knotted roots breaking the ground, and there was Becky. I stopped running, letting the boy and girl go on ahead without me.