The Last Echo

It was almost hard to believe that they’d once been given free rein to her bedroom, with closed-door privileges and all . . . especially considering they’d now been relegated to the public areas of the house only. Not that she blamed her parents, really. Back then, before Violet and Jay had been a couple, the worst her parents had had to worry about was how much junk food they were sneaking before dinner. Or whether they were actually doing their homework or just playing around on the internet.

Now there were other things they could be doing when no one was watching.

Either because of Violet’s injuries, or because they felt guilty about trying to force her off the team, tonight was different. Not only was Jay in her bedroom, but the door was closed.

And Violet was too hurt to make it count.

Jay crossed the room to her dresser and pulled the top drawer open. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you this, but you’re kind of a mess,” he teased, pulling a T-shirt out and tossing it onto the foot of her bed. “Besides, you should probably put something more comfortable on.” He was just pushing the drawer closed again when he paused.

Violet saw the bottle in his hand when he turned back around to face her, the transparent brown pill container he held. “What’s this?” he asked, his tone serious now.

She shrugged. “Dr. Lee gave them to me. I was having trouble sleeping.”

“Maybe you should take one now,” he said, glancing pensively at the bottle.

She thought about how fuzzy she’d felt when she’d taken them before. “I don’t think so. I’m fine . . . really.”

“Come on, Vi,” he implored as he drew her curtains closed, his brows raised. “Stop trying to be so tough. I mean, look at you. You’ve been shivering ever since I picked you up. It seems like sleep might be exactly what you need.” He read the handwritten label and shook one of the white caplets into his palm.

Violet didn’t argue when he offered it to her. She knew he was right. Her body ached and she was exhausted. And the doctor had prescribed them for just that reason. She reached for the water on her nightstand and swallowed it. Then she climbed beneath the covers, grimacing as she rolled onto her side, trying to get comfortable.

Jay turned off the overhead light, leaving just the light coming in from between her curtains as he crossed back to her bed. He tucked the covers around her before climbing on top of them, curling his body around her.

As his heavy arm draped over her gently, she heard herself ask, “Why not under the blankets?”

His arm tightened, just the barest of squeezes, and she felt his breath in her hair. “Because there’s no way I’d ever be invited back if your dad caught me in the bed with you.” And then his lips brushed the back of her head. “Now, go to sleep, Violet.”

At some point Violet was aware Jay was no longer in the bed with her, even though she’d never actually heard him telling her good-bye or felt the shift of the bed as he’d gotten up to leave.

But, now, hours later, as morning approached, she became distinctly aware of the fact that someone else was in her room with her.

Shuffling footsteps found their way through the blackness of her bedroom, and she forced her eyes to stay shut. There was the soft clink of glass on her bedside table and then the sound of pills clattering inside a plastic bottle. Violet thought of the pills tucked away in her dresser drawer, the ones Jay had given her earlier, and realized she still felt hazy. But the effects were beginning to wear off, if only slightly. “I brought you some more Tylenol,” her mother’s voice said softly. “In case you need them . . .” There was a heavy sigh, and then her bed dipped.

Her mom’s hand reached out and gently brushed her cheek, so lightly that Violet almost didn’t feel it at first. “You understand why we’re worried, don’t you, Vi?” she asked softly.

It didn’t matter why, Violet thought, bracing herself against her mother’s explanations. Their reasons didn’t change anything; they were talking about forcing her to give up the one place she felt . . . normal.

“I know you do.” Her mother went on, not seeming to care—or even notice—that this was a one-sided conversation. “I can’t let anything else happen to you. I’ve been second-guessing my decision to let you do this . . . with them . . . since the very first day. And every time you walked out that door. Do you know how many nights I’ve lain awake, waiting until I heard you come in again? Do you think I ever slept until I knew—for sure—that you were safe?” There was another pause, but it was brief. “This,” she said, her thumb moving gently to the bruise beneath Violet’s eye, “is nothing. This isn’t my biggest fear and you know it.”

There was a long pause, a weighted, expectant pause. Violet held her breath, waiting for what was coming.

“Sara called to say they found Casey Atkins. They got a call that she was in a warehouse downtown, just like the other girl.”

Her mom didn’t have to say that Casey was dead. Violet understood. She lay there, silently mourning for the girl, wishing she’d been able to do something for her. Wishing she’d been able to find a way to stop her killer.

Wishing her parents weren’t thinking of pulling her from her team.

“I can’t lose you.” Her mom’s voice sounded steely. Determined. “I won’t.” She stood then, and again Violet forced herself not to groan against the discomfort of her bed shifting.