She was relieved that her uncle hadn’t ordered a police escort for the two of them to the dance. She had half expected to see a procession of marked police cars, lights swirling and sirens blaring, in the wake of Jay’s sleek black Acura.
Despite sitting behind the wheel of his shiny new car, Jay could scarcely take his eyes off her. His admiring gaze found her over and over again, while he barely concentrated on the road ahead of him. Fortunately they didn’t have far to go.
Even the parking lot at school had an entirely different feel as the cover of night began to fall in a sheer dark curtain, allowing the distant twinkling of the stars to break through the dusky sky. Violet could hear the music migrating out from the open doors of the gymnasium as couples paraded into the dance.
Jay patiently led Violet inside, showing his student ID, and then helping Violet with hers, to the two teachers manning the door and checking identifications. Once inside, Violet was surprised at herself. She had expected her hypercritical eyes to devour everything and mentally tear it to shreds, from the cheesy décor to the dorky DJ playing the music and trying to be “hip” to what the kids were into. Right down to the obnoxious and unpleasant Queen Lissie.
But she didn’t. She kind of liked it, in all of its tacky splendor.
She let Jay lead her to the photographer, a man in a cheap suit with a greasy comb-over-style hairdo. They had their picture taken in front of a backdrop of draped tulle in shades of pink and red, and flanked by freestanding white—probably Styrofoam—pillars that were meant to look Greek and tragically romantic. Instead, they looked tragically shabby, as if they might crumble at any moment from years of overuse. But Violet didn’t care about any of it; she could hardly breathe whenever she glanced sideways at her arrestingly handsome date.
When they were finished they saw Chelsea and Claire. Actually, the two overly wound-up girls came running right at Violet, screaming with excitement to see her. As if they didn’t see her every single day.
“Oh…my… God, Violet! You look amazing!” Claire gushed at her, and Violet tried not to be insulted by the insinuation that it was so far-fetched for her to look good.
And then Jules walked up with her date, a senior from another high school, and Violet almost didn’t recognize the tall, leggy bombshell towering over her. Jules wore an almost sinful black dress with a bustier top that left little to the imagination and no room for a bra of any kind. Before this moment, Violet hadn’t even realized that Jules had boobs, let alone full-on cleavage.
“Wow!” Claire breathed, unable to say anything beyond that single word. And suddenly Violet wasn’t so insulted, because Jules’s transformation had actually left Claire, the girl who always had something to say, completely speechless.
The music was loud, and the bass was up way too high, making everything from floor to ceiling vibrate. They had to raise their voices just to hear one another.
“Yeah, Jules!” Chelsea said in a voice thick with envy. “Go away, you’re making the rest of us look bad.” She winked at Jules’s date wickedly. “I bet you just want to eat her up, don’t ya?”
He stared at Chelsea with bewilderment and glanced back at Jules for help.
“Just ignore her,” Jules explained over the noise from the sound system. “She doesn’t get out much.”
Chelsea tried to look hurt by Jules’s words, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. “I’m just sayin’, Jules, he’d better watch his back tonight, or I might be trying to take you away from him.” Chelsea loved to play the potentially bi-curious card, even though everyone knew she liked boys far too much to go to bat for the other team.
“Gross!” cried Claire, who wasn’t pretending at all. Claire hated it when the conversation deviated too far off her straight and narrow path. The operative word being straight.
“Don’t worry, Claire-bear,” Chelsea soothed condescendingly. “I’m not going to hook up with Jules.” She wrapped her arm around Claire’s waist and then said suggestively in her ear, “I’m much more likely to make a move on you.”
“Eww!” Claire shrieked, shoving Chelsea away. “Get away from me!”
“Leave her alone, Chels,” Jules interrupted. “Or you’re gonna make her start her ‘It’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve’ speech. And, sorry, Claire, but none of us really want to hear that.”
Jay pulled Violet close to him as they listened to the familiar, playful bantering. He slid his arm around her waist from behind, and let his lips gently tease her earlobe while no one was paying attention to the two of them. Violet wanted to turn around right there, in his arms, and forget this whole dance thing altogether.
“Hey!” Chelsea’s voice interrupted them, and Violet jumped a little, realizing that everyone was staring at them. “Did you hear me?”
Violet leaned forward on her crutches and away from Jay, still feeling bemused by the close and intimate contact. “What?” she asked, trying to focus on what had been said.
“I said, ‘I gotta pee.’ Let’s go to the bathroom,” Chelsea repeated as if Violet were some sort of imbecile, incapable of understanding normal human speech.
“Keep it up, Chels, and none of us is gonna want to hook up with you tonight,” Violet promised jokingly.
Chelsea grinned at Violet. “I like the way you think, Violet Ambrose. Maybe you’ll be the lucky girl I choose.” And then she turned to Jay. “Don’t worry, I’ve got her from here,” Chelsea announced. Jules and Claire followed.
Violet laughed and glanced back at him. “I’ll only be a few.”
Jay gave her a skeptical look that no one else would have even noticed, as he assessed the three girls who would be escorting Violet. And then he finally nodded. “Okay, I’m gonna show these guys my car.” He was beaming again. “I’ll be right outside, but I won’t be long.”
Violet did her best to keep up with the trio ahead of her, but it was hard on one high heel and two crutches. Finally she yelled at them exasperatedly, “If you guys don’t wait, I’m not going!”
They all three stopped and turned around.
Chelsea tapped her lovely silver shoe impatiently. “Hurry up, Violet, or I swear I’ll take you off my list.”
IN PLAIN SIGHT
SHE WAS EASY TO SPOT, THE GIRL, CHIEF AMBROSE’S niece. She was the only girl at the dance on crutches.
She was pretty. Beautiful even, he thought longingly as he studied her. She had the air of a girl who had no idea how seductively appealing she was to the men of this world. He liked that…her innocence.
He’d been watching her since she’d arrived, keeping his distance in case she somehow managed to recognize him from that day in the woods, when he’d chased her. He still couldn’t figure out how she’d known he was there. He’d been so careful, creeping stealthily behind her, and then somehow, some way, she’d known, and she’d run. But even then, he almost had her.
At least until her boyfriend showed up.
He knew, of course, that she hadn’t seen his face out there. He knew that there was no way she could identify him. If she could have, she would have done it already. But there was no point in taking chances…not when he was so close.
It had been hard to wait, frustrating. He’d been forced to bide his time until those watching her slipped, letting down their guard just enough to give him a chance to move in quietly.
And here he was. At last.
The dance was turning out to be more fun than he’d anticipated. He felt like a kid in a candy store, as lovely young ladies floated past him in colorful shades of chiffon and taffeta. They looked like mouth-watering little confections. Only, he couldn’t have any of them.
He could only have one of them. He just needed to be patient…to wait until he could get her alone.
None of them even seemed to notice him there, at their dance, barely affording him a first glance, let alone a second. He blended into the background, an everyday fixture that hardly deserved notice.
It was the perfect disguise. All dressed up as him
self.
He kept a close eye on her, on Violet, on his Violet, trying not to have his attention sidetracked by the other blossoming girls all dressed up in women’s bodies. He could smell their youthful essence, and it was distracting.
He observed his girl interacting with her friends, playful and carefree. He watched her boyfriend pulling her close, kissing her on the neck.
And then he saw her leaving. Not all alone, but not with her hovering date either.
He felt a blistering flash of energy course through him, and he lifted himself away from the wall.
He followed in their general direction but was careful to keep a good length of space between them.
Mentally he prepared for what he was about to do.
CHAPTER 26
THE GIRLS’ BATHROOM, THE ONE CLOSEST TO THE interior gymnasium doors, was a central hub of activity, and as soon as they went inside, Chelsea changed her mind about being there.
“Come on. I know it’s farther, but let’s go to the one past the locker rooms. There’s probably no one there.” She looked meaningfully at a couple of senior girls wearing their fake-jewel-encrusted princess crowns and lowered her voice. “Where the workers are, the queen can’t be far behind.” And Violet couldn’t help laughing at Chelsea’s stupid bee analogy, as she pictured Lissie Adams buzzing around with a stinger sticking out of her ass.
They all agreed, even though they knew it would take forever to get there since they would have to wait for Violet. But this time no one complained.
Chelsea was right. The bathroom was deserted. But even way out here, they could still feel the floor vibrating from the deep bass coming from the gym. It was nice to be able to talk, just the four of them, especially since what they really wanted to talk about was the other girls at the dance. This way they didn’t have to worry about whose feet were under the stalls or who might be eavesdropping on their conversation.
Chelsea, of course, was the first one to speak up. “Okay, am I the only one who noticed how gi-mungous Mimi Nichols’s dress makes her ass look? Of course, you can barely notice it since her freakishly giant boobs are practically hanging out the top of it.” Chelsea glanced at Jules and grinned. “No offense, of course,” she offered, raising her eyebrows at Jules’s chest.
Claire giggled, and Jules wrinkled up her face in disgust at Chelsea’s teasing barb. “You’re just jealous,” she retorted, eyeing Chelsea’s chest in return.
“Touché, Jules. Touché!” Chelsea admitted.
Claire wanted so badly to join in on the catty conversation, but she was terrible at finding other people’s flaws…at least intentionally. Still, she gave it her best shot. “And what about Jennifer Cummings?” she asked accusingly, trying to mimic one of Chelsea’s cutting looks.
They looked around at one another, wondering what it was that they weren’t getting. Chelsea was the only one brave enough to ask, “What about her, Claire?”
“She does not even look kind of cute!” Claire stated, her face a mask of mock horror.
They all stared at her, not sure what to say.
And then once again, of course, it was Chelsea who broke the stunned silence. “I swear, Claire-bear, I am going to call your mom and tell her you need to start riding the short bus. You really need to start practicing your bitchy comments. What are you gonna do when we’re not here to get your back?”
Claire rolled her eyes, too oblivious to be insulted, which was why she was the perfect friend for Chelsea, who was too insulting to be oblivious. “Geez, Chels, I don’t even ride the bus.”
Jules couldn’t help herself; despite her best efforts to hold on to her detached cool, she started laughing. And pretty soon they were all laughing, even Claire, who still didn’t realize what they were laughing at.
“You guys are so mean!” Violet charged accusingly. “Can’t you just have fun and stop picking everyone apart?”
Chelsea looked disgusted. “You’ve gone soft, haven’t you? Jay has made you soft!”
Violet rolled her eyes, smiling despite her best efforts. “Whatever. Everyone’s soft compared to you.”
“Ouch!” Chelsea pretended to be wounded. But again, she just couldn’t pull it off.
They spent some time primping in front of the mirror, fixing stray pieces of hair and touching up lip gloss. Violet looked down at her bandaged foot and tried to wiggle her toes, which felt like they were being pinched in an unyielding vise. Her mom had obviously wrapped it too tight.
She sat down on a wooden bench that was bolted to the floor…in case some high school hooligan like herself decided to make off with it, she supposed. She set down her crutches, leaning them against the wall, as she assessed the damage to her throbbing foot. She wondered briefly if the stretchy Ace bandages could actually cut off her circulation. She only half jokingly hoped her toes wouldn’t fall off.
“Ready?” Chelsea asked after using the bathroom, as if now that she was finished, they all should be.
“Mmm…not yet,” Violet said, leaning down to loosen the wrapping around her ankle. She glanced up at her three best friends, who looked amazing in their dazzling dresses, and she felt guilty about keeping them away from the dance any longer. “You guys go ahead. I’m just gonna redo this and I’ll be right there.”
Chelsea looked a little skeptical about leaving Violet behind, the first hint of humanity she’d shown all evening. “I don’t know….”
“Go on, I’ll just be a few minutes,” Violet assured her.
“You sure?” Jules asked.
“Seriously. I’m right behind you,” she said convincingly.
Violet watched them go before turning her concentration back to her foot. She carefully unrolled the bandage, breathing easier as she felt the restricted blood begin to flow more freely. She sighed out loud when she felt the last remnant of bandage slacken and then snap elastically off her swollen ankle. She could see the impression of the bandage in her distended skin. She leaned back, giving herself just a brief moment to savor the relief, allowing her foot to breathe a little.
She knew she needed to get on with it, before Jay got impatient and decided to come in after her.
She leaned down, suddenly glad that she wasn’t strapped into a tight, corset-style dress like Jules was wearing. Honestly, she didn’t think she’d be able to breathe in that thing, let alone bend over. She started to wrap the flexible fabric around and around, giving her foot a little more space than her mom had. The bench beneath her began to vibrate harder, as a song change meant even more of the insufferable bass, setting Violet’s teeth on edge as she struggled to concentrate on what she was doing.
She heard the door, but she was almost finished, she almost had the last piece of bandage right where she needed it. She absently reached for one of the small silver clasps with the jagged teeth that would hold the binding in place. When the door opened, the music grew louder, as did the deep rumbling from the speakers. Violet assumed that someone else had the same idea that Chelsea had, about avoiding the overcrowded bathrooms nearest to the dance. She didn’t look up to see who it was.
She fumbled with the first fastener, finally getting it right, and then reached up to grab the second where she had placed it on the bench beside her. Her fingers groped but found nothing there.
She glanced back at the bench beside her, moving only her eyes, but before she could find it, she was distracted. A hand reached out in front of her, holding the clasp out to her.
“Thank you,” she said, her fingers momentarily brushing the warm skin as she reached out to take it.
And she froze, her hand feeling scalded by the brief contact. She looked up, again with only her eyes, and she gasped, instinctively drawing away her hand and holding it against her chest.
“You don’t need it now?” the deep male voice asked her casually, as if it were perfectly natural that he was in the girls’ bathroom with her.
She sat up, ignoring his question as she studied him, from head to toe, taking in every detail of h
is outfit…his uniform. She should have felt better, reassured by his presence, but she couldn’t…not knowing what she knew. Not after touching his hand and feeling what she’d felt.
The shrill vibrations. The ones that had nothing to do with the pulsating beat coming from the dance. The same high-pitched, ear-piercing resonance she’d felt before…in the woods when she’d fallen. The day she’d been chased.
And she recognized him, not just by the familiar imprint he carried, but by his face as well. Although it wasn’t from the day he’d followed her, tracking her like a wounded animal among the trees. She recognized him from a different day, the day that she, along with everyone else in town, had been searching in the woods for Mackenzie Sherwin.
She’d run into him that day, right before she’d located the killer, when she’d been following Brooke’s bells. He was the officer she’d collided with.
He raised his eyebrows, as he watched all of this cross her face. Each of them scrutinized the other…she trying to figure out how he could possibly be the killer, one of her uncle’s own officers…and he, trying to decide how she knew.
He spoke first, his curiosity getting the better of him. “How did you do it? When no one else could, how did you figure it out?”
Violet’s mouth went dry as her mind raced through half a dozen options, some of which she ruled out immediately. Running was impossible. Screaming was futile all the way out here, especially with the DJ trying his best to rupture eardrums. Her cell phone was in her purse, but she’d left that with Jay since it was too difficult for her to carry. Crying…begging…pleading. All viable options.
And then she decided. Lying.
She did her best to look confused, praying that he didn’t know as much as he seemed to. “What are you talking about?” Her voice was quivering. “Is something wrong, officer?”
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