What She Left Behind Read Online Free PDF

was still wearing dress shoes and nylons. The nylons melted and stuck to her foot. I can still hear her scream when I closemy eyes. Once again I did nothing, said nothing, changed nothing. What kind of daughter was I?
    At the hospital she said it was an accident. She dropped the pan on her own foot. After that she stayed away from Jack Reynolds.
    And now that same man is staring at me with his wolf eyes. “Okay,” I say.
    I turn and walk away quickly, hoping his walkie-talkie will crackle to life with news of a crime or car accident to distract him. I know the odds aren’t in my favor. Nothing ever happens in Scottsfield. Except to my family, that is.
    I force myself to count to a hundred before I look over my shoulder. Jack is still watching me. Why the hell can’t he leave me alone? I cross at the blinking light in front of the school and then dare to look back. He seems to be gone. I run as fast as I can back to the Dairy Dream.
    I pull my phone out and try my mom’s cell again. I call her work number, but it goes straight to voice mail. Then I try our home phone. Nothing.
    Next to the Dairy Dream is Dr. Duncan’s office. He’s the town dentist. We don’t go to him. I’ve heard he’s a hack. I can’t very well sit in the waiting room all afternoon for an appointment that I don’t have, or ask for a consultation and end up with a filling I don’t need. Since the parking lot is in the front of the building, I decide to hide out in the back. I still have a good view.
    Pressing my back against the building, I turn my face so I can watch the Dairy Dream. I stay like that for about a half hour, until I’m sick of standing.
    I try crouching down but that’s too much trouble, so finally I just sit on the grass. Which isn’t the greatest idea, because now it’s raining. The only way I could stay dry under the overhang would be if I were a superskinny person like Melanie Rogers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not fat—but only thanks to my hyperactive metabolism and not my willpower. Big drips keep streaming off the edge of the overhang and landing in the middle of my hair.
    I’m cold, tired, and wet, and I’m also freaking out. It’s past three o’clock and still there’s no sign of my mom. At least school is out, so I no longer have to hide behind a dentist’s office. I get up and walk like Frankenstein to keep my damp jeans from rubbing too much against my legs.
    The Scottsfield Public Library is on the other side of the Dairy Dream. As I walk into the tiny building, the head librarian, Mrs. Evans, looks up and frowns at me. I wish the other librarian, Mrs. Scott (Scottsfield is named after her family), was here. Mrs. Scott always greets me by name and asks how she can help. Mrs. Evans is about twenty years past a normal retirement and seems to deliberately not recognize me, even though I’m what anyone would consider to be a regular. I’m glad I didn’t try to hide out there while school was in session. She would have called the school on me within minutes.
    The library is made up of a single small room sectioned off by a bunch of strangely painted bookshelves. I sit down at a table in the children’s section because it’s directly in front of the big picture window.
    “What are you doing here?” says a little voice. “This is the kids’ section.”
    “Billy!” His mom, Mrs. Harper, gives me an apologetic look. She’s a sweet lady who owns a riding stable over in Brookton, where you can rent horses by the hour. Matt and I used to go there sometimes. She always fed us cookies after we’d ridden.
    “Don’t worry about it,” I say to Mrs. Harper. I try to feel flattered that I’ve just been referred to as an adult. Even if it was by a five-year-old. “I’m watching for my mom.” It’s refreshing to actually tell the truth.
    “Oh. You want to read me a book?” Billy holds up a big book with a dinosaur on the front cover. Matt was obsessed with dinosaurs too at that age.
    “Billy, I’m