Violet’s cheeks grew hot as she stood there listening while they talked about her . . . as if she were completely invisible.
She winced when Sara continued, “It wasn’t your decision, Rafe. When we’re out in the field, you need to follow orders, just like everyone else.”
Rafe’s shoulders squared, his jaw flexing almost imperceptibly. “It’s hard to follow orders when they don’t make sense.” And then his eyes shifted, only slightly, to Violet, who watched them in chagrined silence. “Besides, I didn’t mean to lose her. I only turned my head for a second, and when I looked back . . .”
Now they were both staring at her, and Violet felt the heat in her cheeks creeping down her neck, coiling into an angry ball in the pit of her stomach. She shook her head, not sure what more she could say.
“Part of being on the team means we look out for each other. Especially in high-danger situations. We had no idea if the tip was legitimate, or if the killer was setting a trap—baiting us so he could ambush us when we got there.”
Sara was right. Of course she was right. And, more importantly, she was in charge. Violet had known she was breaking the rules when she’d wandered off. Besides, she’d only barely been allowed to be there at all, and only because Sara had pulled some strings and promised to keep “her people” in line.
Violet had forced Sara to break that promise the moment she’d followed the girl’s echo without telling anyone else what she was doing.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated numbly.
Sara’s curt nod told Violet there wouldn’t be any more lecture. And then her face softened. “How are you feeling? Do you still have the CDs Doctor Lee gave you?”
Violet nodded. She knew she’d need to listen to them when she got home; already she could feel the girl’s death—her unsettledness—weighing on her. Pulling her down and making her head throb.
“I’m going to make an appointment for you to see him again, so you can talk about what happened tonight. Does tomorrow work for you?”
Again, Violet nodded. “Sure. I can make it tomorrow.” Not that she really had a choice. She’d broken the rules, after all. Besides, Dr. Lee could help. He’d been teaching her how to cope with finding the dead.
With some bodies, she was left with a persisting heaviness that clung to her until the body was buried or cremated . . . until that body was at peace. That feeling blanketed Violet, deadening her to everything else. Normal function could be difficult, even impossible.
But Dr. Lee offered Violet techniques to help her stay focused, to remain anchored in the real world. He taught her breathing exercises and had given her meditation CDs. He used hypnosis, telling Violet to “imagine” herself staying in control while the dead tried to keep her with them.
And it was working. Even now, after finding the girl, Violet felt more . . . secure than she would have before. Clearer.
Sara nodded, accepting Violet’s response, then turned to Rafe again. “Why don’t you walk Violet to her car?”
Violet started to protest, but then thought better of it. Wasn’t that what Sara had just talked about, about being a team player, about looking out for one another? This probably wasn’t a good time to complain.
She watched as Sara marched away, going to join the buzz of activity that surrounded the crime scene. “Sorry about that,” she muttered to Rafe.
“About what? About wandering away, or getting me in trouble?” The glint was back, mocking her from his deep blue gaze. His dark eyebrows were raised challengingly.
She thought about telling him “both,” but then changed her mind. She wasn’t sorry for following the echo, because it had led her to the girl. Who knew how much time she’d saved them from aimless searching? She shrugged as they reached her car. “For getting you in trouble.” Violet unlocked the door and got inside, but Rafe grabbed the top of the door before she could close it.
He looked at her, his eyes finding their way inside of her, his intense gaze making her feel exposed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ll see you later,” he finally said right before he slammed her car door shut.
The house was dark by the time Violet got there. Peaceful. She was careful not to make any noise as she crept up the stairs to her bedroom. There was no point disturbing her parents . . . or letting them know just how late she’d been out. They were already giving her far more freedom than she probably deserved, allowing her to come and go, even keep unusual hours, as long as her grades didn’t suffer. And as long as she promised to be careful.
They knew she was working with Sara now, and even though they didn’t entirely understand what it was that she did, they knew enough to be concerned. But they’d also been reassured by Sara that Violet’s safety would always come first, that Sara’s priority was to keep her team out of harm’s way. And it was. Sara was nothing if not cautious, and she’d spent the past several weeks trying to instill in Violet the importance of following the rules.
But sometimes Violet found it difficult to ignore that undeniable drive to find the dead. Sometimes that need was stronger than her resolve.
Like today.
She undressed quickly, changing into a pair of sweats and a threadbare T-shirt before reaching for her iPod, where she’d uploaded the CDs Dr. Lee had given her.
It wasn’t until she was about to press Play, just as she was climbing under her covers, that she noticed it, the envelope tucked beneath the edge of her pillow. She frowned as she reached for it, her fingers lingering for only a moment before pulling it free. The plain white envelope was blank, but she suspected who it was from.
She tore the top apart and unfolded the paper inside, her heart fluttering when she recognized the handwriting.
I miss you like crazy.
Jay
Violet grinned. It was just a note—a single line, really—but even his notes made her pulse race. Ridiculous, she thought as she ran her fingertips over his words, committing them to memory.
Then she tucked the note back where she found it, beneath her pillow, and collapsed into her bed. Pressing Play on her iPod, she listened as the sounds of ocean waves drifted through the earbuds, accompanied by a man’s easy, melodic voice, reminding Violet to breathe deeply as he walked her through the stages of relaxation, instructing her to release the tension in her shoulders, her arms, her fingertips, and her toes.
But when she finally fell asleep, she wasn’t thinking about the voice whispering in her ears or the quiet solitude of an island beach. Or even the haunting echo of the dead girl she’d discovered in a warehouse.
Instead, she fell asleep dreaming of secret notes and soft kisses. She fell asleep dreaming of Jay.
Chapter 2
VIOLET FELT BETTER THE NEXT MORNING. NOT A hundred percent exactly, but if Dr. Lee had been there, Violet was pretty sure she’d have kissed him on the mouth for making this part of her ability somewhat bearable. Unlike in the past after she’d found a body, she was able to think clearly, without the mantle of disorientation hanging over her like a stifling shroud.
But that didn’t change the fact that she’d overslept.
“Sit down with me,” her mom said as Violet poured hot coffee into a travel mug.
“I can’t, Mom,” she answered hastily, reaching into the fridge to pull out the creamer. “If I don’t get going, I’ll be late.”
But her mom didn’t relent, and as Violet swirled the vanilla-flavored liquid into her mug, she saw her mom reach out and pat the stool beside her at the kitchen counter. “Don’t give me that. You can spare a minute.” When Violet opened her mouth to argue, her mom insisted, her voice leaving no wiggle room. “It wasn’t a request, Vi.”
Violet exhaled dramatically, but dropped her backpack and slouched onto the seat. “Happy now? What’s up?” she sighed, wondering if her parents had finally had enough of her sneaking in at all hours.
“Nothing really.” Her mom blew on her tea, steam drifting up lazily from the delicate teacup with pink and yellow rosebuds painted on it. Bu
t Violet wasn’t fooled by the cavalier attitude. Nothing was the last thing this was; otherwise she’d already be out the door and on her way to school. “I just wanted to check in. See how things are going. You’ve been working a lot lately and we haven’t seen much of you. Is it so strange that I’d want to know if everything’s all right?”
Violet flashed her mom a skeptical frown, and then grinned. “What’s the matter, Mom? Do you miss me?”
Her mom shot a humorless glance her way. “Of course I do. Does that really surprise you?” Then her lips curved into a wan smile—weak at best—and Violet realized she really was worried. “I just want to make sure Sara’s keeping up her end of our arrangement. That she’s keeping you safe.”
“Haven’t you asked her yourself when you’ve called to check in?” Violet didn’t see the point in pretending she didn’t know about the almost daily phone calls.
Her mom’s eyebrows lifted and she studied her daughter as she set her teacup down on the table. “Of course I’ve asked her, but now I’m asking you.”
They stared at each other for a long, strained moment, Violet thinking it should bother her that her parents were checking up on her. She was seventeen years old and deserved more freedom than that, didn’t she? But then she remembered what she’d done last night, in the warehouse. And she couldn’t help wondering if Sara had already told her mother.
Maybe her mom was right to be concerned.
“Everything’s okay,” Violet finally promised, smiling a little too eagerly, but feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. She resisted the urge to press her fingers against her temples. “There are a lot of people looking out for me, Sara included. They won’t let anything happen.”
Her mom’s gaze narrowed as she studied her daughter, and Violet felt like a fraud. What if Sara couldn’t always keep her safe? What if Dr. Lee couldn’t teach her to control her gift? What if she put herself in danger again?
She thought of the girl in the freezer as she wrapped her hands around the travel mug filled with hot coffee, trying to chase away the bitter chill that slid through her veins at the thought.
Violet lagged behind the other girls who’d left the locker room. She’d changed slowly, pretended to forget something in her locker, and now, as she sat on the sidelines of the gymnasium watching everyone as they paired up, she dropped down and retied her shoes for the fifth time. They were probably the best-tied shoes in the gym by now.
Basketball wasn’t exactly Violet’s thing. She knew she was just as likely to injure herself trying to play a game of one-on-one as she was trying to locate the echoes of the dead. Maybe more so.
And unfortunately, everyone else knew it too.
Today, at least, they were only doing drills. No one-on-ones, scrimmages, or team play. Just plain old, ordinary drills. She could handle that, couldn’t she?
But even now, Violet watched as the girl with the back brace for scoliosis picked someone else to be her partner. And, one by one, everyone around her paired up, until Violet was the only one left standing.
Violet left her spot on the white line and eased closer to Chelsea. “Come on, you guys, can’t I just play with you?” She hated that she was whining, but she hated it even more that she was a basketball leper. Chelsea ignored her as she and Jules executed perfect, high-velocity chest passes between the two of them. Violet flinched when the ball came flying back to Chelsea.
Chelsea’s lip curled as she caught the ball, and she shook her head at Violet disappointedly. “No. And that’s why. You’re afraid of the ball, Vi. You can’t catch it and you can’t throw it.” Chelsea holstered the ball at her waist and looked dubiously at her friend. “Can you even dribble?”
Violet shrugged. “Not really,” she admitted. “But I don’t wanna be stuck playing with the coach again. She throws too hard, and she yells at me when I miss. Everyone stares at us.”
Chelsea shook her head, launching the ball back at Jules. “I’m sorry, I really am. But you suck at basketball.”
Violet did her best not to shrink away this time when the ball came hurtling back to Chelsea, trying to show that she could be part of their team. “Please. Just until we start dribbling drills?”
Chelsea closed her eyes as she dropped her chin to her chest. She clutched the ball in both hands and let out a long, dramatic sigh. Violet didn’t even need her to answer now—she knew Chelsea was giving in. Chelsea was her best friend, after all, and while she tried to be indifferent—to everything and everyone—Violet knew she couldn’t resist her friend’s puppy-dog eyes for long. Jules wouldn’t be thrilled—Violet would definitely slow them down—but if Chelsea agreed, Jules wouldn’t argue either.
The whistle sounded, interrupting Chelsea’s melodramatic scene.
“Ambrose!” the coach barked out warningly.
Violet’s head snapped up as she tried to explain: “I didn’t have a partner, and Chelsea and Jules are letting me join them.” The last thing she needed was to get in trouble for disrupting drills. It was bad enough that she had no talent on the court; she didn’t need to lose points for being a troublemaker too.
“Well, it looks like it’s your lucky day. I found you a partner. Ambrose, Sorrells, pair up!”
Violet’s stomach sank.
Perky and athletic, Jacqueline Sorrells joined Violet at the line, her gleaming ponytail swaying behind her as her hips wiggled in her snug-fitting gym shorts. “Great,” Jacqueline complained. “This is what I get for being late; I get paired with you.” She was already holding a basketball and she tossed it gently—as if Violet was somehow handicapped—across the few short feet that separated the two of them. “How’s that?” she cooed in baby talk. And when Violet caught the ball, she clapped her hands, her shimmery pink lips squeezed together to form a mock O. “What a big girl!”
“Knock it off, Sorrells,” Chelsea chimed in from beside Violet as Jacqueline found her spot beside Jules.
Jules stared down at Jacqueline, her eyes narrowing. The look on her face—the unabashed distaste—was more than enough to let the shorter girl know what she thought of her. Jules might not say much, but she gave the best dirty looks, and her support for her friends was unwavering.
Jacqueline tried to glower back but she was no match for Jules, and she was the first to look away. She flipped her ponytail and lifted her hands, signaling to Violet that she was ready.
Violet shoved the ball away from her as hard as she could, trying to mimic what she’d seen Chelsea and Jules doing. The ball was supposed to go straight to her partner, landing directly in Jacqueline’s hands—a clean line from one player to another.
Instead, it listed to the right and bounced about four feet in front of her partner.
“Nice job, Special Ed.” This time there was no pretend good cheer in the other girl’s voice, just bitter sarcasm.
Jacqueline took off after the ball and when she returned, finding her spot again, she shot it straight at Violet, this time holding nothing back.
Violet flinched as much outwardly as she did inwardly, and she fumbled to make the catch but the ball hit her squarely in the chest. On the other side of the key, Jacqueline snickered.
Violet inhaled deeply, getting ready to throw the ball again. But before Violet had the chance to throw it, she watched as a ball—not her ball—flew through the air and smacked Jacqueline in the face.
She didn’t mean to, but her hand shot up to cover her mouth so no one could see her openmouthed gape as Jacqueline cried out in shock and pain, bending over to cover her nose. Violet had seen exactly where the ball had come from, and she was sure Jacqueline knew too as the cheerleader looked up, accusation in her dark gaze as she noted that neither Chelsea nor Jules had a ball any longer.
Violet’s eyes went wide as she turned to Chelsea, who just shrugged. “Oops,” was her one-word explanation. And then she jerked her head toward the exit, where the double doors were propped open to let fresh air in the gym. “Your boyfriend’s here. You might wanna get h
im outta here before Sorrells tattles on you to Coach.”
Jay stood in the opening, leaning against the doorjamb as he studied her, a grin curving his lips.
Violet glanced to where Coach was already escorting Jacqueline to the locker rooms so she could put some ice on her nose—she wouldn’t want one of her star cheerleaders to swell or bruise—so Violet took her opportunity to jog over to the entrance.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking around to see if anyone was watching them. “Shouldn’t you be in Chem?”
“Yeah, but this is way more entertaining than the covalent bonds. I can’t stay long, though, I’m supposed to be getting my homework from my locker.”
Violet grimaced. “Ugh! How much did you see?”
Jay’s eyes glinted knowingly. “Enough to know you probably shouldn’t be playing any sport that involves a ball.”
Trying to defend her athleticism was pointless, Violet realized, her shoulders deflating. They both knew he was right. She’d stopped playing softball in junior high when it had become clear to everyone she was afraid of the ball and had no other redeeming skills, like hitting or pitching. “Yeah, I guess I should just stick to running, something I can do alone.”
“And without a ball.”
She punched him in the arm. “Yes. Without a ball.” But she had to bite her lip to stop herself from giggling.
Jay reached out and absently wrapped one of Violet’s curls around his finger as he changed the subject. “I missed you this morning.”
“I know, I didn’t hear my alarm go off so I got up late.” She pointed to her ears. “I had my headphones in.”
She didn’t have to explain and he moved in closer, his voice dropping. “Did something happen last night? Were you listening to those things your shrink gave you again?” He looked at her more closely, examining her for signs of strain.
Glancing up, she met his worried gaze. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I found a girl last night—a body. But it’s okay. I feel . . .” Her brow furrowed as she tried to put it into words. “I don’t know . . . not terrible, I guess.” A nervous laugh bubbled from her lips. Since when did “not terrible” become the gold standard she aspired to?