The Last Echo
Page 41
She was about to close the paper when an article at the bottom of an inside page caught her eye. It wasn’t so much the article that had captured Violet’s interest, however; it was a name: Casey Atkins.
The missing girl.
Violet scanned the all-too-brief article, her heart speeding up as she noted that there was no mention of the serial killer suspected of abducting Casey Atkins. Maybe the story had gone to print before they’d made the connection. Maybe they didn’t want to let the public in on the details.
Maybe it was better if the killer didn’t realize they were on to him . . . for Casey’s sake.
But there was something else about the article that made Violet’s breath catch. A photograph.
It was grainy and small, the black-and-white matrix dot style of newsprint pictures, and she lifted it, holding it closer to the light to get a better view. She bit her lip as she stared at it, trying to decide what it was about the image that niggled at her memory, making her brain reel.
Just as she was about to give up, wilting back into her chair in defeat, it came to her and her hand shot up, covering her mouth. She was reaching for her phone before she could solidify her thoughts.
Rafe answered on the first ring, but she cut him off before a single word was out of his mouth.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” The words rushed from her lips. “You wanna meet me downtown?”
“Um, sure. I guess so. What’s this all about? I tried to call you all day. Is everything all right?”
At the sound of his voice, Violet gritted her teeth. In her enthusiasm, she’d forgotten what Sam had told her about Rafe being different with her. She’d forgotten to worry about what that might mean. And she tried to decide if any of that was even important now. What really mattered was finding a killer, wasn’t it? “I . . . uh . . . I’m fine. Much better. And I think I found something . . . about Casey Atkins.”
“What? How?”
“I went down to Seattle after school today, to a café called The Mecca. I found the name on a receipt the night we were in Antonia Cornett’s house.” She smiled, sitting back now. “Well, actually, you found it. It was in the paperback you were holding when the cop came in. I snagged it when no one was looking.”
“V . . .” The warning in his voice was loud and clear, but Violet ignored him. “Why didn’t you say something? I would’ve gone with you.”
Using her finger, she dragged the plate closer again and picked off a congealed mushroom. “I didn’t have anything better to do, and for all I knew the receipt was a dead end.”
“But it wasn’t?”
She leaned forward once more, balancing on her elbows. “That’s the thing. I don’t really know yet. Meet me there tomorrow and I’ll let you know for sure.”
She hung up the phone and stared at it for several long moments, wondering if it was really such a good idea to spend any more time with Rafe than necessary. She was about to call him back, to tell him she’d changed her mind, when there was a soft knock on the back door.
Violet crept across the kitchen floor on bare feet and peeked outside, craning to see out the window in the door. Her pulse leapt when she saw Jay there, standing on the other side, smiling back at her. He held a pizza box in one hand and a grocery bag in the other.
She turned and quickly dropped her paper plate and cold pizza into the trash can before she unlocked the door and let him in.
“What are you doing here? I sorta thought you’d be going to the party after work.”
Jay set the box on the counter and kicked the door closed behind him. “Are you kidding? You said you couldn’t go out; you didn’t say anything about having to stay home alone. I’d way rather be with you than at some stupid party.” He lifted the bag as if he were offering her a prize. “I brought ice cream. Chocolate-chip cookie dough.”
Violet smiled, taking the plastic bag and setting it by the pizza as she wrapped her arms around him, inhaling deeply and wishing they could have more nights like this. Just the two of them.
“You don’t mind that I came, do you? Should I have called first?”
She shook her head, not wanting to let go of him, grateful that he’d decided to come. That he’d rather be with her than with Jacqueline. “No, of course not. I just hope you realize how important you are to me.”
He squeezed her back, a silent reassurance that he knew, and that the feeling was mutual. Then he picked her up and carried her fireman-style to the family room. Laughing, they dropped onto the couch and Jay kissed her, at last. Violet forgot all about the pizza and the ice cream. She forgot about Jacqueline, and any crazy notions that Jay should be with someone else.
He was hers, plain and simple.
And no one could change that.
Chapter 12
IT HAD BEEN HARD TO SLEEP THAT NIGHT, AND Violet was up way earlier than she needed to be. She was anxious to know if what she suspected was true.
Since she had so much time to spare, she’d decided to swing by the Java Hut on her way out of town to grab a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. She was surprised when she got there and saw Chelsea’s car in the lot. It was early for Chelsea, practically ungodly.
It was fairly busy for a Saturday morning, although Violet didn’t know if that was true or not, since she hadn’t spent a lot of Saturday mornings at the internet-café-turned-restaurant. She found all three of her friends, Chelsea, Claire, and Jules, sitting at one of the booths, plastic menus piled near the edge of the table.
The missing girl.
Violet scanned the all-too-brief article, her heart speeding up as she noted that there was no mention of the serial killer suspected of abducting Casey Atkins. Maybe the story had gone to print before they’d made the connection. Maybe they didn’t want to let the public in on the details.
Maybe it was better if the killer didn’t realize they were on to him . . . for Casey’s sake.
But there was something else about the article that made Violet’s breath catch. A photograph.
It was grainy and small, the black-and-white matrix dot style of newsprint pictures, and she lifted it, holding it closer to the light to get a better view. She bit her lip as she stared at it, trying to decide what it was about the image that niggled at her memory, making her brain reel.
Just as she was about to give up, wilting back into her chair in defeat, it came to her and her hand shot up, covering her mouth. She was reaching for her phone before she could solidify her thoughts.
Rafe answered on the first ring, but she cut him off before a single word was out of his mouth.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” The words rushed from her lips. “You wanna meet me downtown?”
“Um, sure. I guess so. What’s this all about? I tried to call you all day. Is everything all right?”
At the sound of his voice, Violet gritted her teeth. In her enthusiasm, she’d forgotten what Sam had told her about Rafe being different with her. She’d forgotten to worry about what that might mean. And she tried to decide if any of that was even important now. What really mattered was finding a killer, wasn’t it? “I . . . uh . . . I’m fine. Much better. And I think I found something . . . about Casey Atkins.”
“What? How?”
“I went down to Seattle after school today, to a café called The Mecca. I found the name on a receipt the night we were in Antonia Cornett’s house.” She smiled, sitting back now. “Well, actually, you found it. It was in the paperback you were holding when the cop came in. I snagged it when no one was looking.”
“V . . .” The warning in his voice was loud and clear, but Violet ignored him. “Why didn’t you say something? I would’ve gone with you.”
Using her finger, she dragged the plate closer again and picked off a congealed mushroom. “I didn’t have anything better to do, and for all I knew the receipt was a dead end.”
“But it wasn’t?”
She leaned forward once more, balancing on her elbows. “That’s the thing. I don’t really know yet. Meet me there tomorrow and I’ll let you know for sure.”
She hung up the phone and stared at it for several long moments, wondering if it was really such a good idea to spend any more time with Rafe than necessary. She was about to call him back, to tell him she’d changed her mind, when there was a soft knock on the back door.
Violet crept across the kitchen floor on bare feet and peeked outside, craning to see out the window in the door. Her pulse leapt when she saw Jay there, standing on the other side, smiling back at her. He held a pizza box in one hand and a grocery bag in the other.
She turned and quickly dropped her paper plate and cold pizza into the trash can before she unlocked the door and let him in.
“What are you doing here? I sorta thought you’d be going to the party after work.”
Jay set the box on the counter and kicked the door closed behind him. “Are you kidding? You said you couldn’t go out; you didn’t say anything about having to stay home alone. I’d way rather be with you than at some stupid party.” He lifted the bag as if he were offering her a prize. “I brought ice cream. Chocolate-chip cookie dough.”
Violet smiled, taking the plastic bag and setting it by the pizza as she wrapped her arms around him, inhaling deeply and wishing they could have more nights like this. Just the two of them.
“You don’t mind that I came, do you? Should I have called first?”
She shook her head, not wanting to let go of him, grateful that he’d decided to come. That he’d rather be with her than with Jacqueline. “No, of course not. I just hope you realize how important you are to me.”
He squeezed her back, a silent reassurance that he knew, and that the feeling was mutual. Then he picked her up and carried her fireman-style to the family room. Laughing, they dropped onto the couch and Jay kissed her, at last. Violet forgot all about the pizza and the ice cream. She forgot about Jacqueline, and any crazy notions that Jay should be with someone else.
He was hers, plain and simple.
And no one could change that.
Chapter 12
IT HAD BEEN HARD TO SLEEP THAT NIGHT, AND Violet was up way earlier than she needed to be. She was anxious to know if what she suspected was true.
Since she had so much time to spare, she’d decided to swing by the Java Hut on her way out of town to grab a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. She was surprised when she got there and saw Chelsea’s car in the lot. It was early for Chelsea, practically ungodly.
It was fairly busy for a Saturday morning, although Violet didn’t know if that was true or not, since she hadn’t spent a lot of Saturday mornings at the internet-café-turned-restaurant. She found all three of her friends, Chelsea, Claire, and Jules, sitting at one of the booths, plastic menus piled near the edge of the table.
