by Alison Stone
She positioned herself in a corner of the kitchen, against the granite counter, with a set of butcher knives at her back. Not that she thought she could actually use a knife on someone.
Blood leaked out of Abby's neck into a pool of dark liquid on the slate floor.
Blinking rapidly, she tried to ignore the buzzing panic even as it morphed into an out of body experience. She was truly losing it. Truly.
Bracing her hands on the corner counter behind her, she stared at the French doors, convincing herself that she had been at fault. If the doors weren't latched just right, they swung open. She remembered her aching fingers carrying the wood in, her relief at dumping the logs by the fireplace. It wouldn't be unreasonable that she had carelessly closed the doors.
Swallowing hard, she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hand to her mouth. The idea of saying a prayer flitted across her brain and then disappeared. God had let her down a lot recently and she wasn't counting on Him to come to her in a pinch. He could have helped her get over these panic attacks already.
He could have saved Abby.
She shook the dark thoughts away.
Betty had taught her the calming effects of prayer and trusting in God.
Deep breath.
No, she had to count on herself. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly. Her nerves tamped down just a fraction. Then an idea hit her.
She picked up her cell phone and dialed Theo's number, grateful he had given it to her for whatever. This felt like just such an occasion. She held her breath waiting for the line to connect.
"Hello," he said, his voice scratchy as if she had woken him up, but it was too early for him to have been in bed for the night.
"Hi, Theo. It's Violet."
"Hey, Violet. What's up? Is everything okay?" The concern in Theo's voice almost broke her down into tears.
"Um, I was working and I had a few questions about a couple receipts." She bowed her head, suddenly feeling silly. "It…um…can wait until tomorrow. I'm not sure why I called. I guess I thought we could go over a few things without any distractions."
"Okay. Why don't I stop over? It's early yet. I can explain those receipts."
Violet's gaze drifted to the wall clock. It was only seven o'clock, even though the black night made it seem later.
"You don't have to." She held up her hand as if he could see her. "It can wait. I'm not sure why I bothered you. Sometimes I get working and forget others have family. It can wait, really," she repeated, feeling herself blathering on.
I'm afraid to be alone doesn’t seem like a grown-up excuse.
"You mind if Liam comes with me?"
"No, really. Tomorrow's fine. You probably need to get him to bed."
"Are you kidding? He'd love to go for a ride." Theo laughed. The lightness in his voice already had Violet feeling better.
"Well, okay, if you're sure." Violet ended the call and felt more than a little silly. But she also felt relieved. The big house on the hill wouldn't seem so creepy if she had company.
Chapter 7
Theo heard several bolts scraping in the lock before Violet's face appeared in the crack of the open door. Concern creased the lines around her eyes. She pushed the door closed, releasing the chain, then opened it wide.
"Hi," she said, stepping back then holding out her hand. Her expression transformed into a cheery smile that seemed forced. "Come in."
Liam scooted in past him and craned his neck in awe as he took in the chandelier dangling from the two-story foyer. "This place is humongous inside, too."
Violet smiled brightly, genuinely this time. "My mom likes fancy things."
Lights blazed in every room. "Everything okay?" Theo whispered close to her ear to avoid scaring Liam. She smelled fresh, like soap with some floral scent. He took a step back, realizing he wasn't here on a date. He was here for professional reasons. To explain some receipts.
Violet shrugged and glanced up at him sheepishly, but she didn't answer. Their eyes locked and held.
Is she hiding something? Is she afraid of something? Had something else happened after her flat tire?
"Do you have toys?" Liam's earnest question broke the temporary spell. His son leaned on the wall outside an impressive office outfitted in mahogany paneling and rich leather. The room probably cost more than the house he grew up in. His son twisted his little body to peer into the room. Dirt caked the corner of his boot and Theo rushed over to slip them off, then stepped out of his own, leaving them lined up on the entryway rug. "Sorry about that."
"It's okay," Violet said, apparently sensing his unease. "You won't find any toys in that room. That's my mom's study."
Liam turned around, his face all scrunched up. "You live with your mom and dad?"
"It's my mom's house, but she's currently staying in her apartment in New York." Violet made a playful face at his son. "You live with your dad."
"Yeah, I'm five."
Violet tilted her head as if to say, We all have to live somewhere.
Theo was a little surprised with the easy banter between her son and Violet. Liam didn't always warm up to adults. And as far as Theo knew, Violet didn't have much experience with kids. It must be part of her professional nature to be able to adapt to situations, engage anyone in conversation.
"I have the receipts in the sitting room by the fireplace."
His feet felt cool through his socks as they crossed the tiled foyer.
She turned to Theo. "Is it okay if Liam watches TV?"
"I'm sure he'd love that."
"What do you like to watch on TV?" she asked.
"My dad doesn't let me watch much and when I'm at my mom's house she doesn't get many channels. Mostly talk shows with people yelling at each other." He shook his head, not even trying to hide his disapproval.
Smiling, Violet picked up the remote and aimed it at the TV. A popular news anchor on one of the 24/7 news stations filled the screen. She began flicking through the stations. "I'm not really sure what's on that's appropriate for a little boy—"
"I'm not a little boy!" Liam stuck out his lower lip, but she didn't miss the twinkle in his eyes. "I'm in kindergarten."
Violet lifted her palms in a surrender gesture. "My apologies, sir." She handed the remote to him as if she were offering him a prize on a silver platter. "Perhaps you'd like the remote."
Liam's eyes lit up. He took the remote, then climbed up onto the sofa across from the TV. He aimed the remote at the large screen, then settled on something on a kid-friendly station.
"You all set?" Theo asked his son. "Miss Violet and I have a little work to do."
"I'm good." Liam seemed transfixed by the cartoon characters dancing on the screen.
"I have my computer in the sitting room right over here." Violet led him to another sofa in an adjacent room separated from the TV area by a two-sided fireplace. "Have a seat." Violet picked up the box of receipts and her laptop from a chair next to the fireplace.
He smiled. "Nicer working conditions than the office trailer."
"Warmer, that's for sure." Violet sat down next to him on the couch. She placed the box and laptop on the coffee table in front of them. She took off the lid and flattened out the first few receipts. "These receipts seem incomplete. Missing dates."
A niggling feeling dogged him. What kind of businessman kept his receipts in a shoe box without dates? As outwardly confident as he always tried to portray himself, sitting here in Jacque Caldwell's mansion with his supposedly professional business transactions in a kid's shoe box left him feeling completely out of his element. He shook off the feelings. He wasn't that same cocky young man anymore who had to prove his salt by being a tough guy.
Theo picked up the first receipt and examined it. There was no date and he couldn't read the handwriting. "I'm going to have to consult with Chad on a few of these." He shook his head. "We had really meant to be disciplined about staying organized, but then orders started rolling in. I suppose it's a good problem to have
. With the improving economy, more people are spending money on luxuries like play sets."
"I'm glad to hear it. I imagine growing a business is very fulfilling." Violet smiled ruefully.
"Your mother's enterprises are successful. Or so I hear."
"Yes, my mother has some definite ideas on her brand. But she also has the added benefit of fame. No one's going to offer just anyone a clothing line or a perfume."
He could tell he'd touched on a sore spot so he picked up another receipt. He sensed she didn't begrudge her mother her success, but she did seem to wish she had been born into a less public life. "You have software you'd like to show me?"
Violet nodded and pulled her laptop up into her lap.
Sitting close to her, Theo angled his head and studied her. "You seem a little out of sorts."
She ran her finger over the touchpad, then stopped. She sighed heavily. "Truth?"
He jerked his head back in surprise. He hadn't expected her to open up to him. "I generally prefer the truth," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Theo followed Violet's gaze over to his son, visible around the brick wall containing the two-sided fireplace. Liam was absolutely transfixed by the TV program. That was why he rarely let his son watch it. He became like a zombie. Never mind that Theo had watched hours and hours of TV when he was a kid, and for a while there Theo wasn't sure if he was ever going to get on the right path. He couldn't blame his father, though. His father did the best that he could as a single dad. And Theo was now doing the same with more resources than his father had.
"Okay, what's going on?" Theo urged.
Violet stood and walked toward the kitchen. Theo followed. She crossed the room to the French doors and shook the handle, as if to convince herself it was still locked.
"What is it?" he asked, placing his hand on the small of her back.
"Earlier when I was working, the French doors—well, the one French door—blew open."
He furrowed his brow at her. He quickly gazed around. "Do you think someone broke in?"
She bit her lower lip but didn't say anything, as if her boldness in telling him had evaporated like water on the roof of a car on a hot day.
She plowed her hand through her dark hair. She looked far different than the confident businesswoman who first appeared in his office yesterday. Maybe he wasn't the only one practiced at putting on a false front.
"I don't know what to think. I mean, yesterday someone shoved four screws in my tire. I have a right to be worried, right?"
"Of course you do." Then he remembered what Chad had said about Abby's murder. Her body being found in Violet's apartment. Running off the road had only been the latest misfortune Violet experienced. "I'll take a quick look around."
"I'd appreciate that."
"Then I want you to tell me what's really going on."
Violet stared out over the expansive yard stretching down to the lake as Theo checked outside the property. She couldn't remember the last time she had relied on a man. On anyone. She had prided herself on her independence. She had worked hard and overcome much to achieve it.
But it had come at a cost. She didn't know how to reach out to someone when she did need help. It felt too much like weakness. And weakness felt like failure.
Instead, she bottled up her fears and suffered debilitating panic attacks as a result.
Violet stared past her reflection in the French doors and startled when she refocused her gaze on Theo striding across the lawn directly toward her. She pulled open the door.
"Anything?" She hated how her heartbeat sounded loudly in her ears, making the single word sound breathless and scared.
"There are tracks." Large snowflakes dotted his hair. She resisted the urge to reach up and brush them off and instead tucked her arms in a tight fold across her chest, waiting for him to continue. Tell her it was deer or a bunny. Something cute and harmless. "It's almost as if someone was trying to disguise their tracks by dragging a branch across the snow."
Violet ran a hand across her mouth. "Not a deer?"
He gave her a curious gaze. "A really smart deer?"
Violet laughed, a high-pitched nervous sound that pierced her ears. "Where did the tracks lead?"
"Into the tree line."
Violet shook her head slowly, trying to get her head around this.
"You want to tell me what's going on?"
She bit her lower lip and slipped onto a stool at the kitchen island. In the background, Liam giggled at a cartoon. "Maybe we should talk about this another time."
"Liam's not listening." He slipped onto the chair across from hers and rested his hand on her wrist. The coolness of his touch felt good. "Talk to me. Yesterday someone gave you a flat tire. Today someone's lurking outside. Maybe tried to come in." Theo slid off the chair and glanced toward the sounds of the television. "Any chance someone's in your house?"
The bottom dropped out of Violet's stomach and the floor shifted. "No, not possible. I was sitting by the fire. If someone came in, they would have only gotten as far as the kitchen before I saw them."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, absolutely. But why make the effort to come that far?"
"You tell me." He dragged the stool closer to hers and sat back down, his knees brushing hers.
She took a deep breath, wondering how much she should share. He had burned her before, but something in his warm brown eyes made her take a chance. "My stalker's back."
Theo's eyes flared wide. "From when you were a teenager?"
Theo had been the only person she had ever confided in from Hunters Ridge High School. She'd told him about her stalker and the panic attacks that had led her to the big house on the hill.
"I…" She immediately began to doubt herself. Isn't that what my mother always makes me do? "I mean, it only makes sense."
Instead of leaning back and laughing and telling her she was imagining things, he rested his elbows on his thighs and pulled her hands into his. "What's been going on?"
Violet let out a long, slow breath between tight lips. "It always starts out as an inkling. Like someone’s watching." She shrugged, feeling the intensity of his gaze searching her face. Then he started to smooth the pad of his thumb across the back of her hand, giving her an alternate focal point that calmed her nerves. "But I can’t trust myself.” She drew in a deep breath before continuing. “When I was twelve, thirteen, I was convinced I had a stalker then, too. Turns out my paranoia resulted in a photographer—paparazzi—getting detained. My mother was livid. Jacque Caldwell is of the 'no publicity is bad publicity' school of thought, unless it's your daughter acting crazy."
"You're not crazy," he said softly.
She tilted her head. She felt crazy.
"That photographer was well respected and often sold photos to top magazines. My mom couldn't deal with me anymore. Shortly after that, she moved me here." She smiled even though sadness pulled at the corners of her mouth. "But you already know all that."
"They never made an arrest back then?-”
She shook her head. "Two months ago, someone broke into my apartment and killed Abby."
"I'm sorry." The sympathy in his eyes was almost her undoing. "Chad told me. He had read about it in the papers. I guess I was out of touch."
"Well, the police dismissed it as her being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I feared someone had broken into my apartment to get close to me and found Abby instead. Killed her." She struggled to swallow around her dry mouth. She searched his face and he seemed to be waiting for her to continue. "There's no proof. Just a feeling. That same creepy feeling of being watched." She waved her hands in dismissal. "I'm being silly." That's how she had been made to feel.
"Stop dismissing your concerns. Talk to me."
She hiked her chin. "I remember talking to you once. It ended up blowing up in my face." Her gaze drifted to the counter behind him. The butcher block of knives sat tucked in the corner. The fear from earlier, of feeling alone and trapped and wo
ndering if she could use a steak knife for protection sent a fresh wave of apprehension rolling over her. She had to trust someone or she'd go…crazy.
"I never meant to hurt you." His thumb kept up the steady back and forth across the back of her hand.
It was her turn to wait for him to continue. He had tried to talk to her after the prom, but she had been so humiliated and angry, she'd refused his calls. Ignored him the few times she bothered to show up at school, the dwindling days of high school prior to graduation.
"I never told Jenny that you were a pity date."
Her eyes snapped up to meet his. Those were the exact words Jenny had used when she cornered Violet in the girls' bathroom the night of the prom.
He only invited you because he felt sorry for you. You're a pity date.
Nine years later the memory slammed into her with all the emotions from that night, a night that had started out fun and exciting and ended so horribly. Not so much because of the words, but because of what happened next. Jenny had known exactly how to ruin Violet’s night, as if someone had told her.
Violet tugged her hands away from his and casually rested an elbow on the island and dragged her other hand through her hair. "That was so long ago. Don't worry about it." She had offered the words casually, but they sounded stiff. Stilted. Insincere.
"We need to discuss it so we can move past it."
"Why? I'm capable of working with you without dredging up the past." She pushed back a fraction and the legs of the stool made a horrible screech on the tile floor.
Theo reached out and brushed his fingers across her knee. "Stop doing that. I need you to trust me. To confide in me. Tell me what's going on so I can help you."
Squaring her shoulders, she stared at him, feeling like she had been rushing toward this moment since she first stepped foot back in Hunters Ridge. "You told Jenny about my panic attacks, the one secret I didn't want anyone to know. You humiliated me." Violet hated the tears filling her eyes, revealing her weakness.