Follow her home, p.21
Follow Her Home, page 21
Royal had always wanted to be with Pascha since they met in college, and his territorial feelings for her never changed—not after she started dating Cline—and not when she confided in him that she was leaving the group and asked for a ride to the airport the night of the big fight.
He couldn’t let her leave.
Like Byron, he thought he could have the woman he wanted if someone weren’t standing in his way. Once Pascha and Cline were over, Royal saw his opportunity, brought her to Lucie and Mika’s guest house to confess his love for her, and she’d rejected him.
In a fit of rage, he’d choked her with one of the cords on the floor for their instruments. She died of asphyxiation and he buried her behind the guest house where he was sure no one would look for her after she’d told him how far she wanted to go from Auburn Hills.
Lucie was the only one who went to visit him in prison. The guys weren’t interested in hearing what Royal had to say, but that day at the funeral, Lucie told me Royal said he’d do anything to take that night back. That he didn’t know what came over him. He’d ‘seen red’ and acted on fear. He told her the guilt ate away at him, and that’s why he confessed, but we all know it was because of Jamie’s tip to the police. While police questioned Royal, they mentioned Lucie and Mika’s backyard neighbour saw him out there by the guest house that night, placing him at the scene of the murder. They had enough on him without the confession.
Lucie and Mika are putting their house up for sale soon. Lucie can’t live there anymore after what happened. She posts pictures of Pascha on social media once in a while, writing to her as if she might hear her—and maybe she can. Even if it’s just for the sake of unburdening her feelings and trying to connect with others through her grief, I can relate to that. I’ve bonded with Lucie over it, encouraging her to write her truth.
I stood with my mom and Ron at Pascha’s funeral, but I felt out of place. While I didn’t know her, and Cline had been right in a sense when he confronted me in my room that afternoon—I took her place—I can’t help but feel a sense of kinship with her.
I, too, considered that I might be able to have what I wanted if she weren’t in my way, but it was never a truth I could believe in. Pascha and I shared so many similar experiences. I didn’t know it when I saw her perform, and I didn’t see it when I read her songs for the first time, but I do now. I read her songs from a new perspective and I write my own to honour our journeys.
Stokes and I are close, closer than ever. No one else has been through what we have and no matter what now, he sticks around. I don’t know if we could have gotten so close if everything hadn’t unfolded the way it did. I don’t know if it’s more the trauma that has bonded us than our genuine friendship. I don’t know if we’d ever have spoken again if Pascha was alive and well.
I know that it’s good to have a friend who believes in me—believes me.
I also know that we’d do anything for each other.
After my mom arrived home with Ron, I’d shared the details with her of what happened to me on Halloween night. She didn’t fall into a shocked state or shut down again.
She held me at the hospital, and at home, and through my statements to the police, listening to everything with support.
She told me she hadn’t even remembered Byron had a brother, but that from what she heard of their childhood, she wasn’t surprised he was just as conniving and dangerous as Byron—maybe even more.
She and Ron also say they never felt they were being watched before they left for their vacation, or that anything was out of place or they’d never have left me alone. I believe that, just as I also believe it’s important I learn to be on my own again. With the help of my therapist, I’ve learned how to discuss my thoughts and fears with my mom in a way that feels safe.
Now, we talk about the night Dad died. About how it changed us and how we can begin to move forward with some peace—knowing the truth has helped us both.
My mom and I also talked about Dad a lot over this past holiday season. She talked about her regrets in life with him, but how he lived without regrets.
She shared that he never wanted me to enter the business because he wanted stability for me, and security, both personal and financial.
That he loved my voice so much, he’d listen to tapes of my vocal lessons while he did the most mundane tasks. He told her he felt like it kept a piece of me at that age with him as I grew up and moved out.
That he loved my lyrics so much, he thought I’d do something with writing one day.
So, I listen to his albums, and it keeps a piece of him with me, too, and what I do with writing every day is good enough for now.
But there’s a part of me that can’t help but want someone to hear my words. To witness my journey and relate to my stories.
To understand me.
To believe me about everything that’s happened.
To share that first song I wrote, the week after it all settled down and sunk in for me.
Maybe that person is you.
That night in our home, I met a man.
A cold dead stare set in his eyes.
He turned and ran, left my father dying there,
kitchen filled with screams and cries.
I lie in bed, twisted fantasies,
Realities, come crashing down on me.
I took your hand, warm blood running cold,
I’m getting old, but you can’t see.
He took you from me.
I met his dead eyes once again,
Across the courtroom on the stand.
He told them lies, he never took the blame.
At my time to testify, I looked him dead in those dead eyes,
And told the judge I’d never be the same,
And they locked him away.
Now I’m all alone, your name in stone,
But that’s not true.
I walk with the ghost of you.
She’s with another man,
her love won’t go to waste,
But he can’t take your place.
I lie in bed, sleeping with regret and dread.
Twisted fantasies, arriving before,
The killer at our door.
Realities, I came too late, won’t call it fate,
It cannot be. Come crashing down on me.
There’s a dark car parked outside.
I lock the doors and try to hide,
But you can’t keep me inside.
Heard a noise, I check to see.
I can feel you watching me.
When will I be free?
I lie in bed, twisted fantasies, realities,
Come crashing down on me.
Realities, I came too late, won’t call it fate,
It cannot be. Come crashing down on me.
Blood red on the bathroom floor,
I’ve seen my share and so much more,
Who’s waiting on the other side of the door?
Did you think you could have her for yourself?
That you could love her more than anybody else?
Did you enjoy the hunt, evoking terror in your prey?
Did you think you could take a life and get away?
Stared in the dead man’s eyes once again.
Sick is the line that bonded them.
He believes his brother’s lies, seeks revenge,
our demise.
But he was fooled by my disguise.
And I took him by surprise.
I lie in bed, awake at night,
eyes watching up above.
I held your hand,
I felt your love.
Twisted fantasies, played them out,
no more doubt.
What follows are the memories,
He took you from me.
But that’s not true.
I walk with the ghost of you.
Did you enjoy Follow Her Home? You’ll love What She Found, Emerald O’Brien’s latest psychological thriller.
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Acknowledgments
I have to begin by thanking the kind and talented singer-songwriter Adrienne Ashley for collaborating with me on this project. It was a dream of mine to bring Lynda’s singing voice to life, and to immerse readers into the poignant scene at Winburn through an audio and lyrical component of the book. Adrienne Ashley was the first and only person I considered for this.
The song Scopaesthesia was inspired by Lynda’s experience that I conveyed to Adrienne Ashley, but also by her own experiences as she related to the character. She composed every element of Scopaesthesia from the lyrics, to the music, to the final recording. I couldn’t have asked for a better song to represent it all and share with you. You can find more about her and her songs on Spotify, iTunes, and Instagram.
Thank you to my cover designer, Tadpole Designs, for the exceptional visual component of this novel. You brought my vision of this home in Auburn Hills to life. To Elle at My Brother’s Editor, I am grateful for your keen eye and professional editing services.
My beta readers, Kiersten Modglin, Caitlin O’Brien, and Shyla O’Brien all helped me bring the story in my heart and mind to life on the page. I couldn’t have done it without the three of you. I appreciated your encouragement, new ideas, understanding, and enthusiasm. Thank you for reflecting the story back to me with fresh eyes, your unique perspectives, and with such care that I’m so grateful to have received.
Thank you to my colleagues in the book community for your support, encouragement, and sharing your knowledge with me. I’m proud to call you my friends. Special thanks to Meghan O’Flynn who aided me with one of the psychological aspects of the story, giving me the confidence I needed to go forward.
For the continued support of my family and friends, I am forever grateful, and I love you all. Each and every person in my life who has supported me and my writing career hold a special place in my heart.
Thank you to my true-blue readers, review team, newsletter subscribers, and my reader group on Facebook for sticking with me and for your company on this journey.
Books by Emerald
Don’t miss these suspenseful and unpredictable reads by Emerald O’Brien
The Knox and Sheppard Mysteries
The Girls Across the Bay (Book One)
Wrong Angle (Book One Point Five, free in Emerald’s newsletter)
The Secrets They Keep (Book Two)
The Lies You Told (Book Three)
The One Who Watches (Book Four)
The Avery Hart Trilogy
Lies Come True (Book One)
Bare Your Bones (Book Two)
Every Last Mark (Book Three)
The Complete Avery Hart Trilogy
What She Found
Closer
All the Dark Corners
To view the complete list of books and purchase links, please visit: http://www.emeraldobrien.com/books
About the Author
Emerald O'Brien was born and raised just east of Toronto, Ontario. She graduated from her Television Broadcasting and Communications Media program at Mohawk College in Hamilton, Ontario. As the author of unpredictable stories packed with suspense, Emerald enjoys connecting with her readers who are passionate about joining characters as they solve mysteries and take exciting adventures between the pages of great books.
When she is not reading or writing, Emerald can be found with family and friends. Watching movies while cuddling with her two beagles is one of her favourite ways to spend an evening at home.
To find out more, visit Emerald on her website: http://emeraldobrien.com
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Emerald O'Brien, Follow Her Home
