Desires of the Dead
Page 47
“Sounds serious.” His tone was still mischievous. Violet wished she could play along.
“It is.”
There was a pause, and then, “Do you want me to come over?”
“No.” Violet hesitated. It seemed so much harder now. She’d been thinking about this all evening, replaying the words in her head, in conversation after conversation. And in every one, she’d felt so confident, so sure. Now, not so much.
She sighed again.
“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out, Vi. What’s wrong?”
She shook her head against the handset. “I saw something tonight.” Again she felt so unsure. Crap! Why was this so hard? “I went for a run before it was too windy, and while I was out there I saw an echo. An imprint, actually, of an echo that I’ve seen before.”
His voice was playful once more. “You’ve seen a lot of echoes, Vi.”
He still didn’t get it.
“You know I haven’t been entirely honest lately, that something’s been bothering me.” She was sitting up now, no longer cold. She let out a breath. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“The truth would be good.” There was nothing playful about his tone now, but there was no going back.
She took another breath. “A couple of weeks ago someone left a dead cat at my house. It was the middle of the night, but I know it was meant for me, because whoever put it there left the box next to my car.”
There was a brief silence on the other end, and Violet worried that she’d made a mistake confiding in him. “Jesus, Violet, why didn’t you tell me? Why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?” She could practically hear him raking his hand through his hair, just as he always did when he was stressed.
And that was exactly why she hadn’t said anything. That, and his next unambiguous words.
“What did your uncle say?”
She didn’t know how to answer. She knew Jay would be upset when he heard her response. She braced herself. “I haven’t told anyone else. You’re the only one who knows.”
“Why would you keep this to yourself? What if someone’s after you again? What if whoever did this decides that a dead cat isn’t threatening enough? Was it that guy from the movies last week?” He sounded breathless, and she knew he was pacing. “I’m coming over,” he insisted. “We have to tell your uncle.”
“Wait, Jay. Please, just . . . wait,” Violet cut him off. “Just let me finish. It wasn’t the guy from last week.”
She heard him exhale. “Okay. Fine. Go ahead. . . .”
“I do know who left it, though,” she continued before she could change her mind again. “The imprint I saw tonight—the one from the cat—it was coming from inside Mike’s house.”
At first Violet thought the line might have gone dead; Jay said nothing.
Her voice, when she spoke again, was like a dry whisper, barely a breath. “Hello?”
“I’m here.” But there was an edge now that Violet hadn’t heard before, one that had nothing to do with concerns for her safety. She could feel her heart plummeting. “So what are you saying, Vi? You think Mike left the dead cat? You think Mike did that?”
“No, not at all.” She leaned forward, needing him to understand. “There were other things that happened. A note, the one that was left on your car; it wasn’t from Chelsea. I didn’t know who put it there, but it was from a girl. And there were some hang-up calls.” Her heart was hammering as she got closer to it, hovering near the threshold of her accusation, and when she finally made it, her voice came out reedy and weak. “I think it was Mike’s sister.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from him in that moment, but it certainly wasn’t anything like the response she got.
“Megan?” he countered, his voice incredulous. “Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know, Jay. But I think it’s safe to say she’s messed up.” Frustration flared, setting her cheeks on fire. Violet recalled the way the girl had flirted with Jay the night they’d stopped at her house to drop off Mike’s wallet. “Maybe she likes you. Maybe she doesn’t like that we’re together, and she wishes that she was your girlfriend.”
And then he laughed. Softly. Just beneath his breath.
But that was all it took. Violet bristled, her back stiffening as resentment overshadowed reason. “What the hell, Jay? This is definitely not funny. Whatever her problem is, it’s serious. She killed a cat. And for some twisted reason, she left it at my house as some sort of message. And then there was the note. She’s a psycho, Jay. She needs help.”
Violet waited. She wanted him to say something, anything, to let her know that he understood. She squeezed a handful of her quilt in her fist, balling it tightly and then releasing it as she waited for his response.
“I think you’re wrong, Violet.”
Violet squeezed her eyes shut.
“They’ve been through so much this year. Mike’s mom isn’t around, and his dad is barely hanging on. Mike’s sister is pretty much all he has left.”
The last thing she wanted right now was to feel sorry for Megan. “It doesn’t change what I saw.”
“Maybe you were confused. It was dark, maybe it wasn’t an echo at all. We both know you’ve been wrong before. Remember Mrs. Webber?”
“It is.”
There was a pause, and then, “Do you want me to come over?”
“No.” Violet hesitated. It seemed so much harder now. She’d been thinking about this all evening, replaying the words in her head, in conversation after conversation. And in every one, she’d felt so confident, so sure. Now, not so much.
She sighed again.
“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out, Vi. What’s wrong?”
She shook her head against the handset. “I saw something tonight.” Again she felt so unsure. Crap! Why was this so hard? “I went for a run before it was too windy, and while I was out there I saw an echo. An imprint, actually, of an echo that I’ve seen before.”
His voice was playful once more. “You’ve seen a lot of echoes, Vi.”
He still didn’t get it.
“You know I haven’t been entirely honest lately, that something’s been bothering me.” She was sitting up now, no longer cold. She let out a breath. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“The truth would be good.” There was nothing playful about his tone now, but there was no going back.
She took another breath. “A couple of weeks ago someone left a dead cat at my house. It was the middle of the night, but I know it was meant for me, because whoever put it there left the box next to my car.”
There was a brief silence on the other end, and Violet worried that she’d made a mistake confiding in him. “Jesus, Violet, why didn’t you tell me? Why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?” She could practically hear him raking his hand through his hair, just as he always did when he was stressed.
And that was exactly why she hadn’t said anything. That, and his next unambiguous words.
“What did your uncle say?”
She didn’t know how to answer. She knew Jay would be upset when he heard her response. She braced herself. “I haven’t told anyone else. You’re the only one who knows.”
“Why would you keep this to yourself? What if someone’s after you again? What if whoever did this decides that a dead cat isn’t threatening enough? Was it that guy from the movies last week?” He sounded breathless, and she knew he was pacing. “I’m coming over,” he insisted. “We have to tell your uncle.”
“Wait, Jay. Please, just . . . wait,” Violet cut him off. “Just let me finish. It wasn’t the guy from last week.”
She heard him exhale. “Okay. Fine. Go ahead. . . .”
“I do know who left it, though,” she continued before she could change her mind again. “The imprint I saw tonight—the one from the cat—it was coming from inside Mike’s house.”
At first Violet thought the line might have gone dead; Jay said nothing.
Her voice, when she spoke again, was like a dry whisper, barely a breath. “Hello?”
“I’m here.” But there was an edge now that Violet hadn’t heard before, one that had nothing to do with concerns for her safety. She could feel her heart plummeting. “So what are you saying, Vi? You think Mike left the dead cat? You think Mike did that?”
“No, not at all.” She leaned forward, needing him to understand. “There were other things that happened. A note, the one that was left on your car; it wasn’t from Chelsea. I didn’t know who put it there, but it was from a girl. And there were some hang-up calls.” Her heart was hammering as she got closer to it, hovering near the threshold of her accusation, and when she finally made it, her voice came out reedy and weak. “I think it was Mike’s sister.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from him in that moment, but it certainly wasn’t anything like the response she got.
“Megan?” he countered, his voice incredulous. “Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know, Jay. But I think it’s safe to say she’s messed up.” Frustration flared, setting her cheeks on fire. Violet recalled the way the girl had flirted with Jay the night they’d stopped at her house to drop off Mike’s wallet. “Maybe she likes you. Maybe she doesn’t like that we’re together, and she wishes that she was your girlfriend.”
And then he laughed. Softly. Just beneath his breath.
But that was all it took. Violet bristled, her back stiffening as resentment overshadowed reason. “What the hell, Jay? This is definitely not funny. Whatever her problem is, it’s serious. She killed a cat. And for some twisted reason, she left it at my house as some sort of message. And then there was the note. She’s a psycho, Jay. She needs help.”
Violet waited. She wanted him to say something, anything, to let her know that he understood. She squeezed a handful of her quilt in her fist, balling it tightly and then releasing it as she waited for his response.
“I think you’re wrong, Violet.”
Violet squeezed her eyes shut.
“They’ve been through so much this year. Mike’s mom isn’t around, and his dad is barely hanging on. Mike’s sister is pretty much all he has left.”
The last thing she wanted right now was to feel sorry for Megan. “It doesn’t change what I saw.”
“Maybe you were confused. It was dark, maybe it wasn’t an echo at all. We both know you’ve been wrong before. Remember Mrs. Webber?”
