The Last Echo

Mutely, Violet nodded, not caring that people, Sara and the police officers around them, had stopped what they were doing to watch the two of them. “And Sara shot him?”

She nodded again, her cheeks brushing his hands as they framed her face. His grip was so soft, so tender.

Violet could see the fear in his eyes. “I have to tell you, the idea of losing you scares the hell out of me, Vi. You know that, don’t you?” He sighed heavily, still holding on to her as he stared back at her. “Promise me, no more gang fights.”

Violet half-laughed and half-grimaced. “I swear it.” She reached up and gripped one of his hands, turning into his palm. He squeezed back, lacing his fingers through hers as he dropped his other hand and pulled her to him.

It was Sara’s voice that interrupted them, making Violet jump. “They found your cell phone . . .” She handed it to Violet. “And your keys.” Sara dangled the familiar surfboard keychain Jay had gotten her when he and his mom had gone to Hawaii. It said Maui on one side and Victoria on the other, the closest he could find to Violet. “It’s nice to see you again, Jay.” Violet had nearly forgotten that they’d met before, that night at the mountain cabin. “Are you driving her home?”

“Is that okay? Is she almost done here?”

“I think that’s a great idea. She shouldn’t drive herself.” Then she turned to Violet. “We’ll have someone bring your car to your house by tomorrow. And I’ll call your parents as soon as I can.” Sara tucked the keys in her pocket and then turned to Jay.

Violet gripped Jay’s hand; she wasn’t ready to explain this to her parents, but she knew she had no choice. They were parents, after all.

“What about my purse?”

Sara shook her head. “It wasn’t there. Are you sure you had it with you? Could you have left it somewhere else?”

Violet’s head whirled. It had to be there; she wasn’t wrong about this. There were only two places it could have been: in front of the Center, or in the alley.

“Don’t worry, they’ll keep looking,” Sara assured her, patting her arm.

There was a quiet moment as Sara thoughtfully surveyed the scene before them.

Violet glanced toward the woman who Sara had been talking to. “Why didn’t you tell her? Officer Durden? You know, about me. That I knew James Nua killed his family?”

Sara glanced reluctantly at Jay, but didn’t hesitate. “Not everyone needs to know what you kids are capable of. Sometimes it’s better to keep what you can do . . . quiet. Even the DA never really knows where I get my information. We have an understanding, I tell him he needs to dig deeper, and he doesn’t question how I know.” She glanced down regretfully at Violet. “I really am sorry, Violet. It was dumb luck you even ran into Nua in the first place, and that you happened to be wearing your school sweatshirt at the time.” She shook her head. “I mean, really, what are the odds?” Her voice took on a pensive quality. “We should never have gone back there that next day. I should never have taken the chance he’d see you again. It’s my fault. I’m supposed to keep you kids safe, and I let you down. I’d do anything to protect you.”

“I know,” Violet said, and meant it. Sara emphasized safety in everything she did, every decision she made. There was no way she would have intentionally put Violet—or any of her team, for that matter—in danger.

They stayed there like that for a long, quiet moment.

Finally, Violet asked the question she was hesitant to broach. She was trembling as the words left her lips. “What about James Nua? What happens now?”

Sara gave a cursory nod. “Every agency in town is looking for him. I got a partial plate, but I imagine he and his buddies have already ditched the car somewhere. Either way, he’s going to have to go for help eventually—that wasn’t a flesh wound. And the second he walks into any emergency room, clinic, or doctor’s office, we’ll be notified and he’ll be arrested. I’d say he has three . . . maybe four hours tops.” She rested her hand on Violet’s shoulder.

But that wasn’t what Violet noticed, the gentle, reassuring gesture. It was something else altogether that made Violet freeze. Literally.

Sara’s fingers were frigid. Not cold, but arctic, like they’d been turned into solid ice. And her skin was equally hard and unyielding.

Violet turned toward Sara. Everything moving slower now, as if time too had frozen. Sara smiled at her, her face the same as it always was. Her lips, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, everything formed as they should be. Even her eyes, that same brilliant blue as Rafe’s, remained the same.

Everything but her pallor, which was now far too white. There was a thin veneer of frost that coated every surface of her skin and dusted her perfectly tweezed brows and the thick fringe of her lashes, making them look brittle but beautiful.

“Is everything all right?” Sara asked, her breath coming out in a plume of steam that only Violet could see. Sara’s eyebrows furrowed and Violet knew she was staring, but she couldn’t stop herself.

It was the most striking imprint she’d ever witnessed.

“You’re wrong,” Violet breathed, her voice filled with wonder. “He’s already dead.” She blinked slowly. “James Nua. He just died.”

Sara thought about that. “You . . . you can feel it?”

Violet stared at the woman in front of her. “See it, actually.”