Dead Silence
Page 66
Violet considered that. She thought about the kind of place they might be walking into, and the kind of people who might be there watching a band called Safe Word, and she weighed that with the fact that they might actually find a clue there, something to help them figure out who’s been doing this. Who killed the girl . . . and her family.
She looked at the address and frowned. “Do you know where this place is?”
Sam nodded, looking more eager, more confident now. “It’s an all-ages club, near the Space Needle. And the show starts at eight, so don’t be late.” Before Violet could say anything, he said, “Did ya hear that? It rhymed.”
She reached out and shoved Sam in the shoulder. “I think the fact you just pointed that out tells me you’re not ready for a club like this—all ages or not.”
Sam smirked at her. “You’re just jealous ’cause you didn’t think of it first.” And then he sauntered away from her, heading toward the corner as he checked his phone for the time. Violet saw a station wagon turning down the street, an older one with fake wood paneling strips on the side of it. “Gotta go,” he said. “My ride’s here.”
Violet lifted her hand to her eyes as she watched the car come closer, a woman with a full head of white hair sitting behind the wheel. “Is that your mom?” Violet asked casually.
Sam grinned back at her. “Nah. My folks work late, so my gram gives me a lift when I can’t get a bus.”
“Your gram?” Violet teased.
“What? It beats walking.” He turned to go, but Violet stopped him one more time.
“What’s your gram’s name?” she asked, trying to sound only mildly interested even as her heart began to beat a little too hard. Behind him, the station wagon was waiting.
“Her name . . . ?” He looked puzzled, and then shook his head, as if mentally shrugging it off. “Thelma,” he said. “Why? You wanna meet her?”
Violet made a face, scoffing at the idea. “That’s okay. I gotta go too.” She waited while Sam climbed inside, and then she waved politely. Really, she was trying to get a better look at the woman behind the wheel. Trying to decide if she’d been mistaken.
She stood there as the car disappeared in the opposite direction, and waited for her pulse to return to normal again before she looked down at the flyer once more. She wasn’t as confident as Sam had been, not about the place or the band or about finding a clue there. She concentrated on the large skull in the center of the creased paper, the one with a knife protruding from its eye socket.
She hoped Sam was right. She shook her head as she started to fold up the flyer to put it away.
But then something stopped her. Something in the bottom corner caught her attention. Something small and buried in the layout, obscured by the busy font and the floating, disembodied eyeballs that seemed to be watching Violet from the page.
At first she thought it was her mind playing tricks on her. And if she hadn’t known what she was looking at, she most certainly would have missed it. But then she leaned closer, holding it up to the light and squinting.
It wasn’t a trick, though. It was definitely there.
A small brimstone cross, just above the address to the club.
Exactly like the one from the crime scenes.
A HOUSE DIVIDED
IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THIS WAY. TOGETHER, they should be strong, united, cohesive. Instead, they were splintered. Fractured.
Just like his other family had been.
Before . . .
He wasn’t sure where he’d gone wrong.
No, not him, Colton. It was all Colton’s fault. And now, because of what Colton had done to the girl, they were all at risk. They were in danger of losing their family.
He’d have to figure a way to fix it. To make Kisha stop crying and to make Boxer stop glaring at Colton like he wanted to rip his throat out with his bare hands. He had to find a way to keep Bailey comfortable, and to make them all remember why they’d come together in the first place: Because they needed one another. Because they had no one else.
It wouldn’t be easy though. But that’s why he was there. That was his job, to fix things. That’s what leaders did. What fathers did.
And he understood his role. He’d known from the beginning that the others—his lost children—looked up to him, that they needed him.
Without him, they were nothing.
With him, they were a family. His family.
They’d already had to get rid of one member, their newest member . . . their little Butterfly. All because of Colton. Because he’d wanted a girl. Because he couldn’t be patient.
They couldn’t afford to lose any others.
He needed to stay clearheaded and focused. It was his job to keep them on track.
Boxer would get over the girl. Kisha too. But he’d have to watch Colton. Colton was getting out of hand. He couldn’t allow Colton to jeopardize them again.
He couldn’t let Colton think he had the upper hand.
He was the father . . .
Maybe Colton needed a reminder.
CHAPTER 14
“I’M SURPRISED YOU CALLED. YOU DIDN’T LOOK so good back at the Center, I thought you’d probably go home and crash.”
Violet surveyed Krystal’s striped tights and her bright purple boots. She imagined herself trying to pull off the same look and knew she could never do it, that she’d only seem ridiculous. Yet Krystal rocked it, wearing her black lace-up bustier dress with the deep purple ruffles that peeked out from beneath the thicker layers of black that covered them like sable clouds. “I was hoping we could talk,” she said, looking around The Crystal Palace.
She looked at the address and frowned. “Do you know where this place is?”
Sam nodded, looking more eager, more confident now. “It’s an all-ages club, near the Space Needle. And the show starts at eight, so don’t be late.” Before Violet could say anything, he said, “Did ya hear that? It rhymed.”
She reached out and shoved Sam in the shoulder. “I think the fact you just pointed that out tells me you’re not ready for a club like this—all ages or not.”
Sam smirked at her. “You’re just jealous ’cause you didn’t think of it first.” And then he sauntered away from her, heading toward the corner as he checked his phone for the time. Violet saw a station wagon turning down the street, an older one with fake wood paneling strips on the side of it. “Gotta go,” he said. “My ride’s here.”
Violet lifted her hand to her eyes as she watched the car come closer, a woman with a full head of white hair sitting behind the wheel. “Is that your mom?” Violet asked casually.
Sam grinned back at her. “Nah. My folks work late, so my gram gives me a lift when I can’t get a bus.”
“Your gram?” Violet teased.
“What? It beats walking.” He turned to go, but Violet stopped him one more time.
“What’s your gram’s name?” she asked, trying to sound only mildly interested even as her heart began to beat a little too hard. Behind him, the station wagon was waiting.
“Her name . . . ?” He looked puzzled, and then shook his head, as if mentally shrugging it off. “Thelma,” he said. “Why? You wanna meet her?”
Violet made a face, scoffing at the idea. “That’s okay. I gotta go too.” She waited while Sam climbed inside, and then she waved politely. Really, she was trying to get a better look at the woman behind the wheel. Trying to decide if she’d been mistaken.
She stood there as the car disappeared in the opposite direction, and waited for her pulse to return to normal again before she looked down at the flyer once more. She wasn’t as confident as Sam had been, not about the place or the band or about finding a clue there. She concentrated on the large skull in the center of the creased paper, the one with a knife protruding from its eye socket.
She hoped Sam was right. She shook her head as she started to fold up the flyer to put it away.
But then something stopped her. Something in the bottom corner caught her attention. Something small and buried in the layout, obscured by the busy font and the floating, disembodied eyeballs that seemed to be watching Violet from the page.
At first she thought it was her mind playing tricks on her. And if she hadn’t known what she was looking at, she most certainly would have missed it. But then she leaned closer, holding it up to the light and squinting.
It wasn’t a trick, though. It was definitely there.
A small brimstone cross, just above the address to the club.
Exactly like the one from the crime scenes.
A HOUSE DIVIDED
IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THIS WAY. TOGETHER, they should be strong, united, cohesive. Instead, they were splintered. Fractured.
Just like his other family had been.
Before . . .
He wasn’t sure where he’d gone wrong.
No, not him, Colton. It was all Colton’s fault. And now, because of what Colton had done to the girl, they were all at risk. They were in danger of losing their family.
He’d have to figure a way to fix it. To make Kisha stop crying and to make Boxer stop glaring at Colton like he wanted to rip his throat out with his bare hands. He had to find a way to keep Bailey comfortable, and to make them all remember why they’d come together in the first place: Because they needed one another. Because they had no one else.
It wouldn’t be easy though. But that’s why he was there. That was his job, to fix things. That’s what leaders did. What fathers did.
And he understood his role. He’d known from the beginning that the others—his lost children—looked up to him, that they needed him.
Without him, they were nothing.
With him, they were a family. His family.
They’d already had to get rid of one member, their newest member . . . their little Butterfly. All because of Colton. Because he’d wanted a girl. Because he couldn’t be patient.
They couldn’t afford to lose any others.
He needed to stay clearheaded and focused. It was his job to keep them on track.
Boxer would get over the girl. Kisha too. But he’d have to watch Colton. Colton was getting out of hand. He couldn’t allow Colton to jeopardize them again.
He couldn’t let Colton think he had the upper hand.
He was the father . . .
Maybe Colton needed a reminder.
CHAPTER 14
“I’M SURPRISED YOU CALLED. YOU DIDN’T LOOK so good back at the Center, I thought you’d probably go home and crash.”
Violet surveyed Krystal’s striped tights and her bright purple boots. She imagined herself trying to pull off the same look and knew she could never do it, that she’d only seem ridiculous. Yet Krystal rocked it, wearing her black lace-up bustier dress with the deep purple ruffles that peeked out from beneath the thicker layers of black that covered them like sable clouds. “I was hoping we could talk,” she said, looking around The Crystal Palace.
