She also remembered seeing Mike’s little sister flirting with Jay the only other time she’d been at Mike’s house, when Megan hadn’t realized that Violet was waiting in the car, watching them.
The very thought of the pretty girl killing that poor little cat made Violet’s skin crawl. She couldn’t imagine what kind of twisted human being could wrap their fingers around an animal’s neck and snap it, for any reason . . . let alone to send some sort of sick message.
And just what was that message supposed to be? What had Violet done to make the girl hate her so much? Why did Violet deserve to be despised?
It didn’t matter, though, did it? Whatever her reason, whatever she thought Violet had done, she was sick, and someone had to stop her. Before she hurt something, or someone, again.
Violet knew it was time to stop keeping secrets. She had to tell Jay.
Her dad had been waiting for her on the front porch, holding a flashlight and pacing. He rushed to meet her at the road. Violet was trembling, both from the cold of the cutting wind and from the disturbing discovery she’d made in the woods.
“Violet,” her father scolded, taking off his coat and throwing it around her shoulders. “What were you thinking, going out on a night like this? Your mother was about to call in the National Guard.” He squeezed her tightly as he led her up the steps. Violet leaned into him, her teeth chattering. “Come on, there’s a fire in the woodstove, and I bet you could talk your mom into making you some hot cocoa.”
He was right, of course. Her mom was so relieved that she forgot to lecture Violet for taking off in the middle of a windstorm. Violet sat as close as she could to the woodstove without actually burning herself, until the warmth began to find its way into her numb fingertips and toes, and the chill was chased away.
The wind howled as it continued to pummel the house, and the sound of branches and treetops cracking intermittently filled the night. Inside they lit candles and used flashlights to get around.
Violet knew that if the power stayed out, her father would go out to the garage and set up the generator. But generally, in storms like these, the power was back on in hours rather than days, so until then they would just wait it out.
Violet wanted to call Jay, to tell him what she’d learned, to tell him everything, but not with her parents so nearby. They had gathered together, staying close to the fire to keep warm while the temperatures outside continued to plummet.
Violet’s mom handed her a mug of steaming hot chocolate, and Violet wrapped her still icy fingers around it, inhaling the rich scent. “Thanks,” she breathed.
Her mom sat cross-legged on the floor beside her. She patted Violet’s leg. “So I know you didn’t want to make a big deal of it,” she started, “but I invited Uncle Stephen and Aunt Kat and the kids over for your birthday.” Before Violet could protest, she held up her hand. “It won’t be a party. Just dinner. And a cake.” She looked pleased with herself as she added, “And presents.”
“Yeah? And it’s not a party?” Violet complained.
Her mom grinned. “Come on. We just want to wish you a happy birthday. Jay and his mom are coming too. It’ll be fun.”
Violet rolled her eyes. She knew there was no point arguing; she’d already lost this particular battle. She realized even before the conversation had started that her mom was going to throw her a party, regardless of what she wanted. “Fine,” Violet finally conceded. “But no hats. And no streamers or balloons. Seriously, it’s just a birthday dinner. Okay?”
“Agreed. No streamers,” her mom promised.
“Or balloons.”
Her mom sighed as if Violet was ruining everything. “Fine, no balloons either.”
Violet smiled, lifting her mug and taking a sip of the steamy chocolate inside. It felt good going down. “And, Mom . . .” she added quietly.
“Hmm?” her mom answered, lost in her own thoughts, probably dreaming of ways to get around the no-balloon rule.
“Thank you,” Violet whispered.
Chapter 19
When Violet awoke, the power was back on. All the switches must have been in the on position, because where it had once been black, light now radiated into every corner, every crevice. She was certain that was what had awakened her.
She and her mom had fallen asleep at opposite ends of the same couch, and their legs were tucked beneath the heavy blanket they shared. Outside, Violet could still hear the wind whistling low and deep as it danced around the house, but it was so much quieter than the unremitting pounding she’d fallen asleep to.
The overhead light turned off, and Violet sat up to peer at her dad. “What time is it?” she whispered, trying not to disturb her mom.
He glanced at his watch. “Just after midnight. Power just came on, so the house should be warm in a few minutes, if you want to go up to bed.”
Violet stretched as she untangled her legs from her mom’s; her neck ached from leaning crookedly against the armrest. Her dad went back to closing up the house, checking windows and doors and turning off light switches.
Violet went to her bedroom, working out the kinks in her neck along the way. But as she left the warmth of the woodstove behind, she realized that her dad was right about the heat. It was still freezing, although she could hear the old furnace working now, and she knew the heat would kick in soon.
She tugged on a sweatshirt and climbed beneath her blankets, covering her head before dialing Jay’s number on her cell phone.
He answered on the second ring. “I’ve been trying to call you for hours. You okay?”
“Yeah, the power just came back on. Yours?”
“It’s only been on for about ten minutes.” And then his voice took on a completely different quality. “I was kind of hoping you’d need someone to keep you warm.”
Violet smiled, curling into a ball against the chill and letting the heat from his words creep through her. “You wish. You know, that’s all you seem to think about lately,” she teased. She heard him laugh, and she smiled, enjoying the moment. And then she sighed, ruining it. “Jay, we need to talk.”
“Sounds serious.” His tone was still mischievous. Violet wished she could play along.
“It is.”
There was a pause, and then, “Do you want me to come over?”
“No.” Violet hesitated. It seemed so much harder now. She’d been thinking about this all evening, replaying the words in her head, in conversation after conversation. And in every one, she’d felt so confident, so sure. Now, not so much.
She sighed again.
“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out, Vi. What’s wrong?”
She shook her head against the handset. “I saw something tonight.” Again she felt so unsure. Crap! Why was this so hard? “I went for a run before it was too windy, and while I was out there I saw an echo. An imprint, actually, of an echo that I’ve seen before.”
His voice was playful once more. “You’ve seen a lot of echoes, Vi.”
He still didn’t get it.
“You know I haven’t been entirely honest lately, that something’s been bothering me.” She was sitting up now, no longer cold. She let out a breath. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“The truth would be good.” There was nothing playful about his tone now, but there was no going back.
She took another breath. “A couple of weeks ago someone left a dead cat at my house. It was the middle of the night, but I know it was meant for me, because whoever put it there left the box next to my car.”
There was a brief silence on the other end, and Violet worried that she’d made a mistake confiding in him. “Jesus, Violet, why didn’t you tell me? Why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?” She could practically hear him raking his hand through his hair, just as he always did when he was stressed.
And that was exactly why she hadn’t said anything. That, and his next unambiguous words.
“What did your uncle say?”
She didn’t know how to answer. She knew Jay
would be upset when he heard her response. She braced herself. “I haven’t told anyone else. You’re the only one who knows.”
“Why would you keep this to yourself? What if someone’s after you again? What if whoever did this decides that a dead cat isn’t threatening enough? Was it that guy from the movies last week?” He sounded breathless, and she knew he was pacing. “I’m coming over,” he insisted. “We have to tell your uncle.”
“Wait, Jay. Please, just . . . wait,” Violet cut him off. “Just let me finish. It wasn’t the guy from last week.”
She heard him exhale. “Okay. Fine. Go ahead. . . .”
“I do know who left it, though,” she continued before she could change her mind again. “The imprint I saw tonight—the one from the cat—it was coming from inside Mike’s house.”
At first Violet thought the line might have gone dead; Jay said nothing.
Her voice, when she spoke again, was like a dry whisper, barely a breath. “Hello?”
“I’m here.” But there was an edge now that Violet hadn’t heard before, one that had nothing to do with concerns for her safety. She could feel her heart plummeting. “So what are you saying, Vi? You think Mike left the dead cat? You think Mike did that?”
“No, not at all.” She leaned forward, needing him to understand. “There were other things that happened. A note, the one that was left on your car; it wasn’t from Chelsea. I didn’t know who put it there, but it was from a girl. And there were some hang-up calls.” Her heart was hammering as she got closer to it, hovering near the threshold of her accusation, and when she finally made it, her voice came out reedy and weak. “I think it was Mike’s sister.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from him in that moment, but it certainly wasn’t anything like the response she got.
“Megan?” he countered, his voice incredulous. “Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know, Jay. But I think it’s safe to say she’s messed up.” Frustration flared, setting her cheeks on fire. Violet recalled the way the girl had flirted with Jay the night they’d stopped at her house to drop off Mike’s wallet. “Maybe she likes you. Maybe she doesn’t like that we’re together, and she wishes that she was your girlfriend.”
And then he laughed. Softly. Just beneath his breath.
But that was all it took. Violet bristled, her back stiffening as resentment overshadowed reason. “What the hell, Jay? This is definitely not funny. Whatever her problem is, it’s serious. She killed a cat. And for some twisted reason, she left it at my house as some sort of message. And then there was the note. She’s a psycho, Jay. She needs help.”
Violet waited. She wanted him to say something, anything, to let her know that he understood. She squeezed a handful of her quilt in her fist, balling it tightly and then releasing it as she waited for his response.
“I think you’re wrong, Violet.”
Violet squeezed her eyes shut.
“They’ve been through so much this year. Mike’s mom isn’t around, and his dad is barely hanging on. Mike’s sister is pretty much all he has left.”
The last thing she wanted right now was to feel sorry for Megan. “It doesn’t change what I saw.”
“Maybe you were confused. It was dark, maybe it wasn’t an echo at all. We both know you’ve been wrong before. Remember Mrs. Webber?”
But Violet didn’t need Jay to remind her of her first-grade teacher. That was entirely different; Violet had only been six when her teacher had come to school carrying the shadowy aura that she hadn’t worn the day before. The dark air that clung to her skin like heavy black smoke had terrified Violet, and she’d run from the classroom, forcing the school nurse to call her parents.
By the time her mother had finished picking up Violet’s class work from Mrs. Webber, the teacher had confided to her that she’d run over a raccoon on her way to school that morning.
And Violet had learned to be careful in making assumptions.
But this time she wasn’t confused. She felt the sting behind her lids as she blinked furiously to ward away the tears.
Hadn’t Jay just assured her he was still her best friend? Hadn’t they just spent the night in each other’s arms, making promises and whispered pledges? Hadn’t she given herself to him completely? How could he question her? Especially now. Over this.
“I’m not wrong,” she insisted quietly. It pissed her off that her voice betrayed her, making her sound weak instead of determined. “You’re wrong, Jay. This time, you’re wrong.”
She hung up the phone, no longer fighting the tears. She leaned down, curling around her pillow and sobbing, using it to muffle her frustrated cries. She didn’t try to stop herself, didn’t try to tell herself that everything would be okay; she just let the tears come. She let herself feel everything.
For the first time in months, she let herself feel angry, betrayed, afraid, alone. Everything that she’d so carefully tucked away.
She cried until her eyes were raw and her face was swollen. She felt drained and empty. Hollow. It felt good, the nothingness. And when she finally felt nothing at last, she slept.
Her phone was ringing—or vibrating, in this case—from beneath her pillow. Violet dug it out and squinted at the small screen.
Her eyes felt like they’d been scraped with steel wool. She tried to rub away the grittiness, but it was hard to see through the watery haze. The LED screen glowed in the darkness.
The clock on her nightstand told her it was 2:03.
The caller ID on her phone said: Unknown Caller.
Her breath lodged in her throat, and her pulse quivered as she hauled herself up. She thought about ignoring the call. But she had to make a decision fast, or she would miss it. She closed her eyes and hit Answer.
She cleared her throat. “Hello?” Her voice was still scratchy.
Like before, there was nothing from the other end. Violet strained to hear, listening for something, anything that would confirm the girl’s identity. She cupped her hand over her other ear.
“Hello?” Violet repeated, her voice barely a whisper.
Silence was the only response.
Violet was nervous, but when she spoke, she tried to sound confident. “I know who you are,” she stated quietly.
And there it was.
She’d heard it that time. Without a doubt, something—someone—on the other end. She was sure now that the girl was listening. Violet had her attention.
She heard a brief rustling, as if the phone were moved, being repositioned.
She waited a moment and then tried again. “I know what you did,” Violet said as calmly as she could. Her heart was trying to pound its way out of her chest, slamming violently against her aching ribs. “I know you killed that cat.”
The stillness around her was unbearable. The quiet in the house was matched only by the silence from the caller. Violet suddenly had second thoughts about her accusations; somehow, saying them out loud to the person she suspected of committing them made them sound strangely absurd. She had a fleeting insight into what Jay must have felt.
Not that it mattered; he should have trusted her.
She took a breath, deciding that she didn’t care how it sounded. She wasn’t wrong. “I know it’s you, Megan.” Her voice dropped even lower, if that were even possible, until she could barely hear herself. “And so does Jay.”
On the other end, there was a barely audible sound. Violet thought it might have been a breath, a sigh, or maybe the whisper of a moan. She couldn’t be certain. But after that moment, after that brief lapse, there was nothing but a deafening hush.
Nothing.
Megan had hung up on her.
Chapter 20
Violet studied herself in the mirror and understood why her mom hadn’t given her a hard time about staying home from school. She looked like a train wreck. Her skin was pale and sickly, her eyes red and puffy. She winced as she wiped her nose, which was raw and sore.
She blamed Jay for the dismal im
age that stared back at her.
And Megan, of course.
Violet made her way back to bed. She had been tired before, but never like this. She felt defeated, stripped of all rational thought. She was certain she’d be incapable of making it through a single class, let alone an entire day.
She tried not to think about Jay. Whenever she did, she felt her heart collapsing in on itself.
She told herself that she should be concerned about Megan, a girl who’d been capable of some pretty terrifying stuff, but she couldn’t make her mind stay there. Jay’s refusal to stand by her when she needed him was more than Violet could bear. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the thought away.
She was too weary to play this game again. But it was too late; he’d already found his way back in, and she could feel the tears, despite her best efforts to hold them back.
God, how was it possible that she even had any tears left?
She hated this. She hated feeling so frail, so miserable. She should be angry, or afraid, but instead here she was, lying on her bed, unable to function. All because of Jay.
And what did it all mean? That he was choosing Megan over her? Or that he was simply unable to accept that Megan was capable of that type of violence?
Did it matter?
Either way, Jay hadn’t supported her.
He’d tried calling Violet, and when she didn’t answer, he’d sent her a single text message, asking if he could come over. Asking if they could talk.
Violet typed out her response, pausing for just a moment before hitting Send.
I don’t want to see you.
It felt so permanent, so final. So painful.
She covered her mouth with the palm of her hand, drawing her knees up to her chest as she choked on her sobs. But the worst pain came from a place she couldn’t physically reach. Her heart felt as if it had been crushed—it was lonely and miserable.
Violet worried for it. She wondered if she could trust it to keep beating.
She felt as if it had given up.
She felt like giving up.
She tried to tell herself to stop being so dramatic, but it didn’t feel dramatic.