Don't Look Behind You Read Online Free Page A

without it. I promise I won’t call people.”
    â€œLet’s just say I want to save you from temptation,” Max said, holding out his hand expectantly. “You can’t tell me if it rings or you get a text you’re not going to answer it. That’s too much to expect of anyone, especially a teenager.”
    Reluctantly, I dug my phone out of my pocket and dropped it into his hand, feeling as if I were giving him one of my lungs.
    â€œThanks,” Max said, pocketing the phone. Then he got into the driver’s seat and started the car. As we pulled out into the street, I impulsively turned around in my seat and looked back through the rear window. Our house was positioned in the center of the glass like a painting in a frame, and the whole front yard was ablaze with the brilliance of springtime. The last of the red and yellow tulips, the first of the bearded iris, pansies, azaleas, and crocuses overflowed the flower beds. The purple leaf plum and the tulip poplar were at the peak of their bloom, and the whole side yard was one solid mass of pink dogwood.
    I stared for a moment, implanting the scene in my memory. Then the car rounded a corner, and the picture was gone.
    I expected Max to head straight for the Colonial Inn, but instead he drove us into the center of town. Then, to my added surprise, he pulled up in front of the Federal Building and turned into the underground parking area for official vehicles. He flashed a card at the attendant, who motioned us through, and we descended a ramp to the lowest level of the garage and pulled into a parking space next to a white van.
    A gray-haired man was seated behind the wheel. When we pulled up beside him, he glanced across and nodded. Then he got out of the van and came over to speak to us.
    â€œI was starting to think I was being stood up,” he said.
    â€œIt took longer than I expected to get the kids out of school,” Max said. He turned to Mom. “Liz, this is Jim Peterson. For the next few days he’s going to be your bodyguard.”
    â€œBut I thought you were going to be staying with us!” exclaimed Mom.
    â€œI’ve got to get back to Washington,” Max told her. “I want to check on the security setup for George. I couldn’t leave you in better hands than Jim’s. He’s a former cop and a pro at witness protection.”
    â€œDon’t worry about a thing, Mrs. Corrigan,” Jim Peterson said. “I’ve got a wife, three kids, and seven grandchildren. I know how I’d feel if anything happened to them, and I’m not about to let anything happen to you.”
    The two men transferred our luggage over to the van. Then they had Mom, Bram, and me get into the back. There was a seat along either side, and Mom and Bram sat on one, and I on the other.
    â€œThe vehicle switch is in case we were tailed,” Max explained. “That’s unlikely, but we don’t want to take any chances.” He leaned in through the open door, the charismatic smile back in place, and gave Mom’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Keep your chin up, Liz, and try not to worry. When George agreed to work with us, we promised you’d be safe.”
    He stepped back from the van and slid the door shut. The windows in the back were heavily tinted, and we suddenly found ourselves in semidarkness. Jim Peterson started the engine, and the van rumbled into life.
    â€œNow can you tell me what’s going on?” I asked Mom. “It can’t be possible somebody meant to kill Dad! How much of a threat is the manager of an air freight office?”
    â€œDad is more than an office manager,” Mom said. The light was too dim to allow me to see her expression. “There’s a reason we haven’t seen Max for over a year now. He’s deliberately kept his distance to downplay their friendship. Ever since the last time Max was at our house for dinner, your father has been working