Excerpt!
JACOB
“Why did you bring all these broken drumsticks?” my mom asks, pulling a coffee can full of them out of the moving box. She picks one up and squints, reading the writing on the side. “Hysteria?”
If she hadn’t ditched my dad and me four years ago, she’d know that I always write the name of the song I was playing and the date when a stick breaks. I’m just about to explain it to her when she says, “It took a week, but you’re finally all unpacked. Not bad. Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got to get back to the case.”
Big fucking surprise. It’s always about the case. Once upon a time my brother was the case. Now it’s someone else’s kid. Or spouse. Or whatever. Anything so my mom doesn’t have to face the people still in her own life. My dad gave up trying to matter to her a long time ago. That’s when he and I moved to northern Michigan. My dad’s a day trader. He buys and sells stocks on his laptop. You can pretty much do that from anywhere. Except from where you’re not wanted. We were doing fine. Then my dad got himself a new wife. And I got into a car with my drunken best friend.
Okay, yeah, I was drunk too. We hit a tree in Ricky’s piece-of-shit car that’s too old to have airbags. And yeah, I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. So I cracked my head against the dashboard. And I guess I passed out. From the conk in the head or the booze, I’m not sure which. I’m pretty much okay now except for the occasional pounding headache and some freaky-ass dreams. And the fact that my parents actually spoke to each other and decided I should move in with my mom. Get a change of scenery. Get away from my jackass friends.
I shuffle after my mom. I don’t know why we bothered unpacking that last box. My mom will realize soon enough that she doesn’t want to deal with me and my crap, and I’ll be on a plane out of here.
In the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of ginger ale, missing the beer that my dad used to have piled in the fridge, free for the taking. Then I score some chips and M&M’s from the counter. In clearing off a space on the table for my snack, I knock a file folder on the floor, and papers spill out everywhere.
“Seriously, Jacob?” my mom says, pissed. Hey, maybe if I dump my drink all over the papers, I can get myself shipped back home in time for dinner. Well, at least I could be in Pittsburgh in time to get on a plane before dinner. I tilt the glass, and then my conscience kicks in. Fuck it. I take a drink instead and reach down to scoop up a photo. That’s when I choke on my ginger ale. I swear I’ve seen that girl somewhere before.
“Who’s this?” I ask between coughs, holding up the picture.
“Damn it, Jacob. You’re not supposed to touch that.” Of course. I bite my lip. Here we go again.
I stare at the girl’s face and feel another headache coming on. Why does she look familiar? “She been missing a long time?”
My mom rolls her eyes. “Jacob, that’s the girl that we found on Monday.”
Tracy Bilen is the author of What She Left Behind and Whisper. She is a high school French teacher in Michigan where she lives with her husband and children. Tracy studied at the Sorbonne in Paris and taught Spanish at a high school ski academy. She loves biking, traveling, and red velvet cake.
Stop him.
After her friend Samantha is murdered, seventeen-year-old Olivia is the only one who still hears her voice.
Years ago, Jacob closed his eyes. In a park. Playing hide-and-seek. His little brother is still missing. And Jacob’s mom is the FBI agent who couldn’t find him.
Now Jacob has dreams he can’t explain. And draws faces of those about to die.
In a town terrorized by a serial killer, Jacob meets Olivia. Sparks ignite.
Until the voice in Olivia’s head echoes the warning in Jacob’s dream…
You’re next.
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Author bio:
Tracy Bilen is the author of What She Left Behind and Whisper. She is a high school French teacher in Michigan where she lives with her husband and children. Tracy studied at the Sorbonne in Paris and taught Spanish at a high school ski academy. She loves biking, traveling, and red velvet cake.
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