Desires of the Dead

She struggled to move, and to breathe, beneath him, and when she heard his words, she understood.

“No, I was wrong. I wasn’t thinking about this the right way. It would have been better if it was Megan. It’s worse now. It means you aren’t safe, because someone left that cat.” He loosened his hold only enough so that Violet could breathe. “Shit! Shit, Vi, someone left you a dead cat. Someone who’s still out there. You have to tell your parents. And your uncle. We need to find this guy.”

Violet thought about the note she’d received, the pink paper with the flowing script and the disturbing poem inside.

She tipped her head back and stared at Jay, realizing that he was right. “Or girl,” she corrected absently.

Chapter 23

Violet didn’t tell her parents, or even her uncle, right away. In fact, she didn’t plan on telling them at all. Instead, Violet proposed a different solution. An alternative.

Jay wasn’t crazy about her idea at first. Or at all, really. He would have preferred to go to her uncle. Someone he knew. Someone he trusted.

But Violet was adamant, insisting that they keep her family out of it this time. She didn’t want to worry them. And selfishly, she didn’t want them crowding her, smothering her with concern. Justified or otherwise.

She wanted to try a different approach first.

Jay reluctantly agreed, but only for the short term.

Meaning that he was putting her plan on the clock. If her proposed solution didn’t work out within the week, he was calling it off and going to her family himself. He wanted Violet safe, no matter what.

Violet grudgingly accepted his terms, believing that her way was better and that it would work. Right up to the point of execution.

Now that she was sitting in her car carrying it out, she had her doubts. Serious ones.

She glanced down nervously at the scrap of paper in her hand and then up at the dilapidated-looking building again. It was the right address. She checked the street sign on the corner one more time—maybe she’d misread it and was on the wrong block.

Nope. Right street, right block. Damn!

She tried to ignore the prickling reservations about being here by herself after dark as she rubbed the hairs on the back of her neck to stop them from tingling.

It wasn’t exactly what she’d imagined, the location.

Violet had told Jay all about Sara and how she might be able to help, but she’d expected it to be a day or two before she could actually get an appointment. She was surprised, then, when Sara had agreed to meet with her that evening. And even more surprised that they would be meeting at this new place.

She called Jay at work, knowing he’d want to go with her, but explained that things were moving quickly and she needed to go. He offered to leave work, but they both knew the offer was empty; he’d never leave the store unattended.

So here she was, all alone.

Violet stuffed the piece of paper into her purse, trading it for her small can of pepper spray as she shoved her car door open. She positioned her finger on the canister’s trigger. Just in case.

The fact that no one was around should have made Violet feel safer, but it didn’t. It made her feel like bait.

Young, helpless bait armed with a tiny can of pepper spray.

She hurried up the steps to the lit doorway and pressed the chipped button. She heard it buzz from somewhere inside. Her finger remained in ready position on the trigger in her hand.

She jumped when a voice blared from beside her. “Can I help you?”

Violet glared at the black plastic intercom. She already felt like a worm on a hook—the woman’s voice was like slipping a colorful lure around her neck. Definitely baitlike.

“I’m here to see Sara Priest.” She said it as quietly as she could and hoped she could still be heard.

There was a click on the other end, like the machine had gone dead. And then nothing.

Crap! Violet silently cursed. Maybe she’d written the address down wrong after all. Maybe she was in the wrong place.

She thought about pressing the button again, but her sense of self-preservation, and her fear of the woman’s way-too-loud voice, kept her from going near it. Instead she just stood there, growing more and more anxious by the second.

Violet didn’t realize that she’d pressed herself so tightly against the door until it opened from the inside and she stumbled backward.

She fell awkwardly, trying to catch herself as her feet slipped and first she banged her elbow, and then her shoulder—hard—against the doorjamb. She heard her can of pepper spray hit the concrete step at her feet as she flailed to find something to grab hold of.

Her back crashed into something solid. Or rather, someone. And from behind, she felt strong, unseen arms catch her before she hit the ground. But she was too stunned to react right away.

“You think I can let you go now?” A low voice chuckled in her ear.

Violet was mortified as she glanced clumsily over her shoulder to see who had just saved her from falling.

“Rafe!” she gasped, when she realized she was face-to-face with his deep blue eyes. She jumped up, feeling unexpectedly light-headed as she shrugged out of his grip. Without thinking, and with his name still burning on her lips, she added, “Umm, thanks, I guess.” And then, considering that he had just stopped her from landing flat on her butt, she gave it another try. “No . . . yeah, thanks, I mean.”

Flustered, she bent down, trying to avoid his eyes as she grabbed the pepper spray that had slipped from her fingers. She cursed herself for being so clumsy and wondered why she cared that he had been the one to catch her. Or why she cared that he was here at all.