Desires of the Dead (14 page)

Greed

It was the strangest thing, seeing Violet get up from her lunch table and walk right toward her. It was as if Violet had known she was being watched.

But that was impossible.

She’d only meant to spy for a moment, to numb herself just a little. And when she saw Violet heading right toward her, wearing that strange look of recognition on her face, she’d backed away before Violet could discover her . . . hiding there, stealing a glimpse into the life she could never have.

Perfect Violet. With the perfect life.

She slipped out of the building before Violet could reach her, disappearing around the corner. She paused for a moment, frozen—trapped—as she waited for her father to get into his truck. She hated that he’d insisted on coming inside to sign her in, resentful that he’d made her late in the first place as she stayed awake half the night, waiting for him to pass out.

As he pulled away, she circled the building, searching for another way inside, and wondered what would happen if she let Violet catch her.

She toyed with the notion of opening up to Violet, and the idea was oddly appealing.

What if she
could
tell someone the truth? What if she could share her burdens?

And what would she say? That her mother had run off? That her father was a drunk?

Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to tell anyone. There was no one she could trust . . . no one who cared about her pathetic existence.

Especially not Violet Ambrose.

She reached an open doorway and took a relieved breath. She entered the stream of students pouring into the halls before their next class. She moved among them, reassured that she was once again undetectable.

Just the way she liked it.

Anonymous. Faceless in the crowd.

Just another girl.

Chapter 17

When Violet and Jay walked together to the parking lot after school, Violet couldn’t help inspecting everyone around her. Studying them. Searching them.

One of them carried an imprint.

She kept telling herself to just forget it, but she couldn’t.

“Hey, it’s for you,” Jay announced, interrupting her thoughts as he reached for the pink paper that was tucked beneath his windshield wiper. He sniffed it before handing it to her. “Smells good.”

Violet laughed at him for smelling the note, then turned it over in her hands.

Her name had been written with purple felt-tip marker in distinctly girly lettering. She sniffed it apprehensively; it smelled like grape. A lacy heart sticker held it closed.

“That’s weird.” She picked at the corner of the sticker, flashing Jay a sly look. “Maybe I have a secret admirer.”

Jay threw his bag in the backseat and climbed inside to start his car.

Violet unfolded the letter and read it. Her heart stopped.

The words inside were written in the same feminine handwriting as her name on the outside. She read them again, thinking that she’d made some sort of mistake the first time.

She hadn’t.

She refolded the paper, this time in a hurry, trying to ignore the unnerving sensation that someone was watching her. She shoved it into her backpack and then threw hers in back with Jay’s.

“So? Who was the love note from?” he asked absently as she got in the passenger seat.

Violet shook her head, trying to find the words, but they weren’t there. She felt like she was stuck in her dream again, the nightmare in which she was trapped, entombed, in the suffocating darkness. Unable to save herself.

“Violet?”

She blinked. “What?” She still hadn’t answered his question. “Chelsea,” she floundered. “It’s just a note from Chelsea.”

He looked worried. “You okay?” He touched her cheek, his brow wrinkled.

She nodded. “I’m tired. Really, really tired.”

He accepted that, mostly because he knew, probably better than anyone, that it was true. And it had been.

Up until she’d read that note.

Jay had to work that afternoon, so Violet had planned on going home to take a well-deserved nap. But when she got there, her dad was still at work and her mom was gone for the afternoon, and Violet realized that there was no way she’d be able to sleep. Not yet. Not while her house was empty.

She wandered around, trying to find a way to make herself comfortable. It was crazy that she was afraid there, of all places. Violet had never been afraid in her own home, not even as a little girl.

She’d never believed in the bogeyman or monsters that hid in the shadows beneath her bed or in her closet, in the places where a night-light couldn’t reach . . . if she’d been the kind of girl who had actually needed a night-light.

And yet, here she was, terrified in the one place she should feel the most secure.

Thanks to that stupid note.

She pulled it out of her backpack and stared at it again, not sure what she hoped to gain from reading it one more time:

Rosie Is Dead

Violet Is Blue

You Can’t See Me . . .

But I’m Watching You

Ever since she was a little girl, she’d heard that nursery rhyme put together a hundred different ways using her name. But it had never felt so threatening, so ominous. Violet understood the implied meaning behind the words.

It was another message from the person who’d left the cat. The same person she’d followed today through her very own school.

He,
or she
, Violet corrected herself as she scrutinized the girlish handwriting, was taunting Violet. Stalking her, openly baiting her.

And that person knew where she lived.

Violet shoved the note into the bottom of her backpack and closed all the blinds in the family room, sitting on the couch in the dark and trying to trick herself into feeling isolated, safe. She wanted to be tired again, enough so she could fall asleep, so she would feel better and be able to think more clearly. But the longer she sat there trying to make herself relax, the more she realized it was impossible.

Finally she decided that she needed to get out of her house. At least for a while. At least until her parents got home. But she needed to do one thing before she left.

She put on her shoes and her jacket and double-checked that Carl was safely inside before slipping through the kitchen door at the back of the house and hurrying across the lawn to her mom’s art studio. Inside she rummaged around the messy tabletops until she found a small piece of wood. It was flat and smooth, the perfect size for what she needed. She hoped her mom wasn’t saving it for anything special.

She opened a small container of acrylic paint and grabbed a thin paintbrush. The color she’d chosen was a pretty shade of pink.

Violet worked meticulously—respectfully—on her project, making sure to give it the care it deserved. When she was finished, she rinsed the brush and replaced the paint where she’d found it.

She crept quietly around the shed, toward the edge of the woods to where her tiny cemetery bordered the back of their property. She walked around the grave markers and homemade headstones, watching her step, until she found the site she was looking for.

Then she knelt down in front of the fresh grave and set the small painted plaque with the little cat’s name on it:

ROSIE

Violet had planned to hit the drive-through and grab a cup of tea, a little something to keep her going for the rest of the evening. Something to keep her alert.

But when she got to Java Hut and saw Chelsea’s car in the parking lot, she changed her mind. It wasn’t like she had anyplace better to go.

As she locked her car, Violet couldn’t help wondering if the person who’d written the note also hung out at the Java Hut. The thought made her suspicious of everyone she passed.

Inside she spotted Chelsea and Jules at a table in the back corner.

Violet ordered a cup of tea at the counter and carried it back to where her friends were sitting. She was surprised that Claire wasn’t with them, since Claire hated being left out.

Chelsea made a face at Violet’s tea. “Shouldn’t you be having a milk shake or something?”

That was Chelsea’s way of saying Violet should order a milk shake so Chelsea could “share” without actually paying.

Violet shook her head, ignoring the not-so-subtle hint. “Nope, I’m good.” She pulled the plastic top off her cup and stirred in a packet of honey.

“
I’ll
split one with you, if you want,” Jules volunteered to Chelsea.

“
Aww
. See? Jules gets me.” Chelsea’s response was meant as a commentary on Violet’s intentional snub.

Jules held out her hand, palm up.

Chelsea frowned at it. “I thought
you
were getting it.”

Jules smiled and wiggled her fingers. “I said I would
split
it with you. So pony up, sister.”

Chelsea glared at Jules as she dropped some change in her hand. “Anything but strawberry.”

Jules grabbed the money and headed toward the counter to order their milk shake.

“I thought you loved strawberry,” Violet said once Jules was gone.

“I do. It’s reverse psychology. She’ll get the strawberry.” Even when her statements were outrageous, Chelsea always sounded so sure of herself.

Violet just laughed. “Just because you would do the opposite doesn’t mean Jules will.”

She sipped her tea; it was perfect, hot and sweet. Just the jolt of caffeine Violet needed to ward away the exhaustion for a bit longer.

“So are you and Jay coming to the cabin?” Chelsea asked.

The question was unexpected, and from so far out of left field that Violet thought she’d finally succumbed to the lack of sleep. “What are you talking about, Chels?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right, you took off during lunch today. Hey, where’d you go, anyway?”

Violet wasn’t about to tell Chelsea that she’d been chasing invisible lights through the school. “I had to take care of something before class started. So, what cabin?”

Chelsea didn’t question Violet’s nonexplanation; instead she answered, “Mike’s family has a hunting cabin up in the mountains. Some of us were thinking of taking an overnight trip up there in a couple of weeks to play in the snow and hang out. You know, snuggle up by the fire and all that good stuff.” Chelsea’s eyes glittered enthusiastically.

Violet hated to let her down. “I really doubt my parents are going to let me stay the night in a remote cabin with a bunch of boys.”

“Oh, please, Snow White, Mike’s dad’ll be there. He’s actually kinda funny . . . you know, in a weird dad kind of way. Don’t worry, your purity will remain intact. Scout’s honor.” She made some sort of gesture with her fingers that Violet assumed was supposed to be an oath, but since Chelsea had never actually
been
a Girl Scout, it ended up looking more like a peace sign.
Or something
. Violet maintained her dubious expression.

But Chelsea wasn’t about to be discouraged, and she tried to be the voice of reason. “Come on, I think Jay’s checking to see if he can get the time off work. The least you can do is ask your parents. If they say no, then no harm, no foul, right? If they say yes, then we’ll have a kick-ass time. We’ll go hiking in the snow and hang out in front of the fireplace in the evening. We’ll sleep in sleeping bags and maybe even roast some marshmallows. It’ll be like we’re camping.” She beamed a superfake smile at Violet and clasped her hands together like she was begging. “Do it for me.
Ple-eease
.”

Jules came back with their milk shake. It was strawberry, and Chelsea flashed Violet an
I-told-you-so
grin.

Violet finished her tea, mulling over the idea of spending the weekend in a snowy cabin with Jay and Chelsea. Away from town. Away from whoever was leaving her dead animals and creepy notes.

It
did
sound fun, and Violet
did
love the snow. And the woods. And Jay.

She could at least ask.

Like Chelsea said,
No harm, no foul.

Chapter 18

The exhaustion had finally caught up with her, and that night Violet slept like the dead. For the first time in weeks, she felt completely and totally rested. And by morning, she felt sane again. Clear.

It was a great feeling.

She got up early. Well, maybe not
early
, but not late either, and in time to actually eat something before she had to leave for school. Not bad.

In the rush of the morning, she easily ignored the first hang-up call she received, chalking it up to mistaken dialing. The call log had simply read:
Unknown Caller
.

She shoved her cell phone into the pocket of her hoodie, and crammed her math book, and the homework assignment she’d been working on over her bowl of cereal, into her backpack.

Inside her jacket, she felt the phone vibrating. She pulled it out to check it.

Unknown Caller again.

“Hello?” She glanced out the window to make sure Jay wasn’t there to pick her up yet.

There was a moment in which she thought that the person on the other end might say something, a long, empty pause, but nothing happened. Finally, Violet pulled the phone away from her ear.

The call had ended.

She tucked it away for a second time. Jay would be there any minute.

Violet cleaned up her mess at the table and rinsed her bowl in the sink. She was listening for the sounds of his car when she felt the vibrations in her pocket.
Again
.

Now she was getting annoyed. She dried her hands on a towel and pulled the phone back out. It was the same thing:
Unknown Caller.

“What?” she answered irritably.

On the other end, there was silence.

She sighed softly. “Hello?” she tried again, this time trying not to sound so sharp. She checked the phone to make sure the call was still connected. It was.

Nothing.

“Is anyone there?”

And then, something
.
What was it? A breath? A whisper? Violet heard
something
from the other end.

“Hello?
Who is this?
” she asked expectantly, hopefully.

She waited for a moment and then checked the phone. The call was gone, disconnected.

She chewed her lip as she stared at the screen on her cell phone, waiting for it to buzz again. She wondered who it could have been and reassessed her initial assumption that it had been a wrong number . . . who would call and then hang up when she answered three separate times? She could think of only one person.

She looked down at her backpack, lying on the floor by the kitchen table. Inside there was a pretty pink note with a disturbing message written in scrawling purple script.

She heard Jay’s car outside in the driveway just as the phone in her pocket vibrated once more. She hesitated, taking the phone out and staring at it. She thought about answering it, about telling whoever was on the other end to go screw themselves and to stop harassing her, but she doubted it would do any good. So she took another approach.

She picked up her backpack, and on her way to the front door scrolled down and hit Ignore on her phone.

If the person on the other end thought they were going to frighten Violet with stupid poems and hang-up calls, they were messing with the wrong girl. Even the dead-animal thing was right up her alley.

Far more terrifying people had come after Violet.

And failed.

The plans to go to the cabin came together surprisingly well. Mostly surprising because Violet’s parents had actually agreed to let her go.

She was still a little stunned, since it was, after all, a boy-girl sleepover. Which sounded like a little kids’ slumber party, but to the parents of teenagers usually conjured up images of illicit sex and illegal alcohol consumption.

Violet had expected her parents to have similar concerns. But apparently they trusted her.

Of course there were several strings attached. Violet’s parents insisted on meeting Mike’s father before the trip, since he was chaperoning. And they wanted to know the names, the parents’ names, and the phone numbers of everyone who would be going on the Saturday night sleepover. They also wanted the address of the cabin. And, of course, an ironclad guarantee from Jay that he would keep an eye on Violet.

That last promise had been easy enough to secure. It was funny how quickly Jay had taken on the role of Violet’s protector once they’d started dating. Actually before then, even.

Funnier still how much faith her parents put in him, considering the fact that Jay would officially be younger than Violet in less than a week.

Violet was about to turn seventeen, while Jay would still be sixteen for nearly two full months.

Jay liked that, the whole older-woman thing. He also liked to joke about the fact that Violet would soon be dating a younger man.

One night, when Violet’s parents had gone out, he teased her about it, whispering against her throat, “I should probably be dating girls my own age now that you’ll be over-the-hill.” Jay was stretched out on Violet’s bed as she curled against him.

Violet laughed, rising to the bait. “Fine,” she challenged, pulling away and leaning up on her elbow. “I’m sure there are plenty of men my own age who would be willing to finish what you’ve started.”

Jay stiffened, and Violet realized that she’d struck a nerve. “What is it?”

He shook his head, and Violet thought he might say, “Nothing,” so when he answered, his words caught her off guard. “
Is
there someone else, Vi?”

Violet frowned, baffled by the unfamiliar jealousy she saw on his face. She wondered what in the world he meant as she reached down and smoothed a strand of hair from his forehead. “What are you talking about, Jay?”

His eyes met hers. “I saw you with that guy at the movies, Vi. Who was he?”

Violet closed her eyes. She wasn’t ready yet. She didn’t want to tell him about the FBI, about Sara and Rafe or what she’d learned about Mike’s mother. She wondered briefly if he knew about Mike’s mom—if his friend had ever confided in him. But somehow she doubted it. Jay wasn’t like her; he didn’t keep secrets.

“It’s not like that,” she explained, hoping that would be enough.

Jay got up and went to the window, pushing the curtain aside. Every muscle in his body was rigid. “Like what, Vi? What’s going on? Something’s been bothering you lately. Why can’t you tell me?”

He was right. She owed it to him to at least try. “I don’t know how to explain, but I just feel like everything’s changed between us—”

“Of course it’s changed, Violet, what’d you expect?”

Violet tried to ignore the bitterness in his voice, telling herself she had no right to be hurt. “It used to be that I would never keep secrets from you. You were my
best friend
. But now that we’re dating, it’s just . . .
different
. I feel like I have to watch what I say, or you get all worried. Sometimes I just want you to be the old Jay again, so I can talk to you.” Violet crept behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back.

It wasn’t exactly a confession but it was progress, she decided. And soon,
very soon
, she hoped she’d feel comfortable enough to open up completely.

She felt him relax, and his voice softened. “Is that what this is all about? You feel like you can’t talk to me anymore?
We
haven’t changed; we’re still the same people.”

She slipped her hands beneath the front of his shirt, slowly running her fingertips over his chest and back down to his waist. He turned in her arms and smiled, but his grin was filled with mocking suspicion. “Are you trying to distract me, Violet Ambrose?”

“I guess you’re smarter than you look,” she teased as he pushed her backward so that they both fell on her bed.

“And
you
are not as funny as you think you are.” His mouth hovered over hers, his arms tightening, crushing her against him. Violet giggled and tried to squirm free, but Jay wouldn’t let her. He kissed her throat, his lips teasing her until it wasn’t his grip that made it hard for Violet to breathe.

“Oh, and Violet,” he whispered against her ear, his breath tickling her cheek, “I’m
still
your best friend. Don’t ever forget it.” His words were fervent and touching.

Violet tried to think of a response that made sense, something appropriate, but all she could manage was: “
Please.
Don’t stop.”

She didn’t mind begging if it meant getting her way.

Apparently that was enough to satisfy Jay, and he kissed her possessively. Thoroughly. Deeply.

He eased her back until she was lying against the pillows, and she waited for him to stop, to tell her that they’d gone far enough for tonight. But she didn’t want him to. She wanted him to keep going. She wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, to explore her. Her body ached for it. She reached for him, clinging so tightly that her fingers hurt. Everything inside of her hurt.

Jay settled over her, covering her with his body, reacting to her. Violet wrapped her legs around him, pulling his hips closer, telling him with her every movement that she wanted
him
, that she wanted
this
.
Now.

“Are you sure?” Jay asked into the warm breath between them, barely lifting his mouth from hers.

She nodded, but when she tried to speak, her voice trembled. She hoped he didn’t read it wrong. “Of course I am.” She was nervous and terrified and thrilled all at the same time.

He smiled against her mouth, still kissing her, and she melted into him, unable to stop her heart from thundering.

He reached around for his wallet. “I have a condom.” His voice was rough.

Violet smiled. She’d been waiting for this moment for far too long
not
to be prepared, but she was happy to hear that he’d been considering it seriously also. “Me too,” she told him, reaching into her nightstand drawer and pulling out a handful of them. “I knew you’d give in.”

He groaned, his lips moving to her neck as he tugged at his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Violet thought he was beautiful. He was right for her; he always had been.

And as he slowly slid
her
shirt up, his fingertips stroking her bare skin and making goose bumps prickle in the wake of his touch, she wondered why it had taken them so long to get to this place.

Nothing had changed in that moment when Violet and Jay had finally decided to have sex. Nothing—and everything.

Violet was amazed by what they’d done. Amazed that they’d shared themselves with each other,
like that.
It was wonderful, and beautiful, and not anything that Violet had expected it to be.

The pain had been more intense than she could have imagined, and she’d done her best not to cry out. But, of course, Jay had noticed as her body tensed, and then she shuddered. Tears dampened her lashes, yet she’d refused to let them fall.

Jay had insisted that they stop, but Violet wouldn’t let him. Instead they’d waited, with Jay holding her, stroking her hair, her shoulders, her face, until the pain subsided, becoming something . . .
less
.

Later, when she was lying in his arms, she shuddered again.

Jay hugged her tight. “What’s wrong? You’re not sorry, are you?” The tenderness of his words made her heart twist.

“Of course not. How could I be sorry for
that
?”

He kissed her eyes, gently. “Then why are you shivering? I didn’t mean to hurt you, Vi.”

She shook her head, clumsily bumping his chin. “I don’t know why.” She ran her fingertips over his arm, memorizing the feel of his coarse hairs, his skin, the muscles beneath it all. “It’s just . . . it’s a lot. You know?”

Jay smiled. It was a satisfied smile. “Yeah.” He leaned back and pulled her to him, tucking her against his shoulder. “It
was
a lot. A
really
good lot.”

She wanted to shove him, to banter, to play, but she was too exhausted.

When Jay finally got up to leave, Violet leaned up on her elbow and watched as he buttoned his jeans. She wished they could stay like that—together—for longer. Forever.

She already missed the feel of him beside her, and the scent of him around her. She sat up to give him back the T-shirt she was wearing.

His lazy smile was far too beautiful to be real. “Keep it,” he insisted. “I like it better on you anyway.” The way he stared at her made her stomach flip. It was a look brimming with tenderness. They were a part of something more now; they belonged to each other.