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Back Don't Look for Me Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-one
  25. Chapter Twenty-two
  26. Chapter Twenty-three
  27. Chapter Twenty-four
  28. Chapter Twenty-five
  29. Chapter Twenty-six
  30. Chapter Twenty-seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-one
  35. Chapter Thirty-two
  36. Chapter Thirty-three
  37. Chapter Thirty-four
  38. Chapter Thirty-five
  39. Chapter Thirty-six
  40. Chapter Thirty-seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-one
  45. Chapter Forty-two
  46. Chapter Forty-three
  47. Chapter Forty-four
  48. Chapter Forty-five
  49. Chapter Forty-six
  50. Chapter Forty-seven
  51. Chapter Forty-eight
  52. Chapter Forty-nine
  53. Chapter Fifty
  54. Chapter Fifty-one
  55. Chapter Fifty-two
  56. Chapter Fifty-three
  57. Chapter Fifty-four
  58. Chapter Fifty-five
  59. Chapter Fifty-six
  60. Chapter Fifty-seven
  61. Acknowledgments [TK]
  62. Also by Wendy Walker

It folds around me like another blanket. A familiar blanket.

This blanket of guilt.

Chapter Four

Day thirteen

Hastings Pass.

Nic hated this road. She hated the way it fell off at the shoulder into dirt and gravel and how the dirt hung in the air long after being kicked up. She hated the thick, brown cornfields that stood high on either side like a scene out of a Stephen King novel. She hated how it was straight as an arrow, but rose and fell over the small hills so she could never pass a car that was driving too slow.

Hastings Pass intersected Route 7 at the Gas n’ Go. It was a left-hand turn coming from the south. A right-hand turn coming from the north.

Her mother had been coming from the north. The car parked just under thirty feet from the station. Parked on the shoulder and abandoned.

The call had come the day after the storm. Friday. Midmorning, before they’d even noticed that she hadn’t returned home. Nic had been sleeping off one of her nights. Her father had gone to the office like it was any other day. Never thought about the meat thawed on the counter, or the dry cleaning hanging on the door, or the dogs not fed, or the coffee not made. He said he assumed she’d gotten in late and was asleep in the guest room. How considerate she was not to wake him. He didn’t check for her car. Didn’t think to. Didn’t notice. His mind had been preoccupied with relief, Nic imagined. It must be hard to look at your wife after being with another woman.

She wanted to hate him for that. But there was no road map for what their family had been through. Molly Clarke reminded her husband of his dead child. Molly Clarke reminded Nic of the way Annie died, and the role she’d played in the series of events that led to her death. And wrapped up in the horrible memories of that horrible day were the sweet memories of sweet moments, and there was no way to untangle them.

Strong arms holding her. Soft hands brushing her hair. The smell of homemade bread and bubble bath. A loud voice cheering on the sidelines. A soft voice whispering in the dark. It’s okay, I’m here. So many sweet, sweet memories that were now too twisted with grief to be remembered.

Molly Clarke’s voice and face and smell could provoke feelings that were at war inside her. Agony and bliss. Rage and love. Nic had avoided her, just like her father had. It was painful to be with her.

Two miles down Hastings Pass was the police station. Past the inn and the diner. Past the bar, the auto body shop.