The Body Finder (15 page)

Even if it wasn't in the way she'd hoped for, he still cared.

She watched as Jay let Grady fall back to the ground. Well, not
fall
exactly, it was more of a shove, releasing him and making him smack his head against the car as he collapsed backward.

But he wasn't quite finished with his warning to Grady, and he snarled at him from between gritted teeth, “If you ever…
ever…
touch her again, I swear to God, Grady, I'll fucking kill you. Do you hear me?”

Violet was stunned by the rage in Jay's voice as well as in his words.

Grady just nodded, wiping his bloody hand on his jeans. He looked like he wanted to say something more but
couldn't quite find the words.

Jay didn't wait for him. “There's no way you're driving tonight, Grady. Give me your keys,” he demanded then, holding out his hand impatiently.

Grady started to dig in his pockets and then had second thoughts. “How'm I supposed to get—?” he started to ask, but Jay cut him off.

“I don't give a shit; you'll find a ride. Now give them to me.”

Jay's voice left little room for argument, and Grady decided not to test his luck. “Violet has them,” he finally admitted before stumbling away from them, back toward the party.

Violet jumped when she heard her name. She felt like she'd been eavesdropping on the two of them. “Oh…yeah…” she seemed to be saying to herself as she held up the keys and then dropped them into Jay's outstretched hand.

For a moment, she wasn't sure what to say to him. Finally she opted for the obvious. “Thank you.” It kind of said it all.

Jay pocketed Grady's keys and walked over to his mom's car. It was the car she must have heard pulling up while Grady was trying to attack her with his disgusting tongue. He opened the passenger-side door, and without so much as a glance in her direction, he turned that same commanding voice on her. “Get in the car, Violet.”

And that was it…the end of her brief thrill at seeing Jay tonight.

His demanding tone, which she had appreciated when it was directed at Grady, felt like sandpaper rubbing against
her already frayed nerves when he used it with her. All of the gratitude that she'd felt just moments before fragmented like shards of irreparable glass, and Violet narrowed her eyes at him. The entire week without him, missing him and craving his company, seemed to melt away…and now
she
was the one who was furious.

“Are you kidding me? You don't give me the time of day for the past week and then you want to come around and start giving me orders?” She put her hands on her hips, daring him to argue with her. Her cheeks seared as her temper burned fiercely. “I don't think so, Jay. That's not how it works.”

Suddenly she wanted to go back to the party…to go back to her
real
friends, the ones that hadn't given her the silent treatment all week or disregarded her very existence. She turned on her heel and started back toward the house, following the trail of loud music that reached all the way down the street.

Jay didn't follow her. He didn't try to talk her into staying. It hurt her feelings that he didn't pursue her, begging her forgiveness for behaving like such a jerk.

But on the other hand, she decided, she'd made herself pretty clear, and Jay had certainly proven that he was capable of stubbornly standing his ground. And despite her wounded ego, no matter how relieved she'd been that he'd shown up when he had, there was
no way in hell
that she was going to let him start telling her what to do now.

She didn't look back to see if he was watching her leave.

She was too afraid of what she might see if she did….

That Jay wasn't coming after her.

WHEN HE FIRST SAW THE GIRL WALKING ALONE
down the narrow, darkened street, he nearly overlooked her.

It was too soon, he told himself. He had just buried one, and not enough time had passed to create the frenzied desire he usually craved.

But there was something about her…she looked lost…in need.

He slowed his car, way…
way down,
watching her progress as she made her way through the night, tripping as if she were incapable of watching her own steps. She never looked back. It was as if she was oblivious to his very presence, despite the unnatural beam of his headlights filtering away the darkness from her path.

And then he realized it, like the dawning of the first morning's light, clearing the way for the day.
She needed him.

Almost as much as he needed her.

He moved his car closer, easing up behind her, careful to keep her in his sights should she become alarmed…frightened by his proximity.

The silhouette she created in his headlamps was the very essence of youth. Her movements, clumsy with inattention, were graceless and inelegant in a way that was lost in womanhood. Her body was still supple; her skin would be soft.

He cast sideways glances at the parked cars around him, watching for anyone who might be watching his approach.

There was no one.

He reached her, still without notice on her part, and he pulled his car silently alongside her.

She looked up then; her innocent, tear-filled eyes stared at him hauntingly, stirring his desire into a scorching frenzy. Recognition cleared them as she stopped walking then, and the tears were replaced by supplication.

He exited the car, moving fluidly now as the dance began again.

Few words were exchanged, mostly from him, and within the span of a heartbeat, he had slipped a comforting arm around her shoulder and led her to the passenger's side….

All while she gazed up at him with unguarded gratitude.

VIOLET HATED THE ANGRY TEARS THAT BURNED
her eyes as she stumbled over an unseen rock on the ground in front of her.

She wished that she could just go back in time, to that moment. She wished that she had just gotten in his car when he'd commanded her. Even as angry as she'd been at him, she couldn't help thinking it would have been better than this…this lonely walk through the chilly darkness, berating herself with second thoughts and what-ifs. Better than the rejection that seeped like venom through her every pore.

She hated Jay at that moment, for making her feel so vulnerable and weak. She wasn't supposed to be that girl, she had
never been that girl before…needy…and pathetic.

By the time the car was pulling up beside her, she didn't have time to wonder why she hadn't noticed it before. She hadn't heard the sound of the tires across the ancient asphalt with its gravel-filled potholes, or even noticed the headlights that blanched the blackness into pale shadows.

She turned her head sideways, squinting slightly, to get a look at who was inside.

When she saw him there, behind the wheel, she stopped walking, trying not to look so thankful as she blinked away the tears.

She heard the door opening, and before she could catch her gratified breath the driver was out of the car and she was in his arms.

She wanted to breathe, to inhale his lethally musky scent, but she couldn't find the air around her. She was suffocated in the strength,
the warmth
, of him.

Time seemed irrelevant at that point; it could have been seconds or hours. It didn't matter. She didn't even realize she'd been crying again until he pulled away and leaned down to kiss her wet cheek.

And then his lips moved softly, gingerly, tracing a path to hers. Electric shock waves, which started below her stomach and shot upward, made her tingle and burn as his mouth caressed hers.

She'd imagined this moment so many times, dreamed of him holding her like this for so long.

Violet sighed, sinking farther against him, forgetting
herself…forgetting her anger and her hurt, losing herself in the moment.

Jay kissed her, hard, and long, and deep. And she kissed him back, matching his intensity. He banished any trace of doubt that might have remained.

Violet was acutely aware of her own heartbeat, fluttering in strategic pulse points throughout her body, and echoing its heady rhythm through her veins. She was flushed and shivering at the same instant. She could smell the intoxicating heat coming off him in waves.

When his mouth left hers, she felt bruised and raw. She could still feel his touch on her lips.

He looked down at her, his eyes as glazed as her own, his voice thick with barely restrained desire. “Get in the car, Violet.”

This time instead of sounding like a granite command, it sounded like warm silk wrapping around her. And instead of bristling against it, she just nodded as she stared at his beautiful face, unable to think of anything but the wonderful things his lips had just done to her.

They didn't move for a long moment, they just stood there, looking at each other. His gaze moved to her mouth and then lazily back to her eyes, as if he were memorizing her.

Somewhere in the distance, but probably closer than it seemed, Violet heard a car driving away. But she didn't bother looking up, because she had other things on her mind.

Jay had come back for her.

VIOLET STAYED AWAKE FOR MOST OF THE NIGHT,
thinking over and over again about what had happened. She wanted to remember every tiny detail, capturing it forever in her memory so that she could recall it again at a moment's notice.

Jay had kissed her.

Finally.

And not just any kiss. It wasn't one of the sisterly kisses of their childhood. There was nothing childlike about it. He had finally closed that chasm that had been growing between them since the end of the summer.

Finally.

Violet could hardly stand it. She was excited…elated…electrified all at once.

But along with those feelings came the others, the insecurities and the doubts. The questions of what his sudden appearance last night really meant. What the kiss really meant.

They hadn't talked about it at all during the ride home. They didn't talk about anything; the charged silence between them seemed to speak volumes. But there were no repeat performances, even as he walked her up to the door to make sure that she got inside safely. He hadn't held her hand or even touched her again. And now, in the morning's light, she couldn't help but wonder if he had simply been overwhelmed by relief that she was safe, that he had saved her before Grady had gone too far. Had he merely been reacting to a sudden surge of adrenaline…kissing her on impulse, without thinking it through?

She hoped not. She prayed not.

She pushed those negative thoughts away, remembering instead the feel of his soft lips against hers. And the heat of his body pressed, heart to heart, with her own.

By morning she was both exhausted and exhilarated.

She finally gave up chasing sleep and peeled herself from the rumpled warmth of her bed at just after seven o'clock. She could smell the rich scent of coffee brewing from downstairs and felt drawn to it.

Her mom was in the kitchen by herself. She didn't say anything about Violet coming home last night.

Violet looked around, a little surprised. Her dad was usually the early riser; it was her mom who could sleep until
nearly noon. “Did Dad go to work already?” Violet asked, knowing that he often went to the office on Saturdays to catch up on his work without the weekday commotion.

Her mom looked haggard and weary, and she pulled her steaming mug closer to her, hugging her hands around it as if drawing strength from its warmth. “No,” her voice croaked, and then she cleared her throat and tried again. “No, your uncle Stephen picked him up about a half hour ago.”

Violet hesitated only briefly as she reached into the cupboard for one of the mismatched coffee mugs that littered the shelf. She found her favorite one, a faded ceramic mug with a garish picture of the Golden Gate Bridge splashed across it. Her parents had brought it home from a vacation before she was born, and she found the time-crackled paint charming. “Why?” she asked as she filled her own mug and reached into the fridge for the vanilla-flavored creamer. She was generous with it, turning her coffee a pale, milky tan.

When her mother didn't answer right away, Violet turned toward her to see what was the matter. “What is it?”

Her mom sighed, looking suddenly older…and worn out. She shook her head for several seconds before speaking, but she couldn't avoid it forever. “Another girl.” Her voice cracked with quiet frustration. “From Buckley. From White River, Violet.”

Violet hovered where she was, half standing, half sitting, in the chair beside her mom at the kitchen table. “Who?” was all she could manage, too stunned by the news to move.

“Mackenzie Sherwin. She's a little younger than you.”

Violet froze. That name. She
knew
that name.

“Is she a friend of yours?” her mom asked, placing her own chilled hand over Violet's as Violet sank like a stone into the chair. “She was at a party last night, and then no one saw her again. Do you know who she is?” she asked again.

There was no point in lying. Even if they weren't bound to discover the truth about where she'd gone last night, which they definitely were, this was no time for lies.

“I saw her last night,” Violet admitted, raising her eyes to meet her mom's. “I was at the same party.”

Violet watched the looks that played across her mother's face, from the dawning flash of anger as she realized that Violet had lied to her about where she'd been, to the fleeting panic that it could have been her own daughter, to relief. And, finally, to acceptance. She must have decided, like Violet had about the lying, that this wasn't the time for reprimands. Although Violet knew that it would come…later.

“There's a search party. They're combing the woods to look for the girl. They can't rule out the possibility that she just wandered away in the night and got lost. The reports coming in are that she was drinking pretty heavily.”

Violet thought about Mackenzie Sherwin. She could picture the younger girl who had thrown up in the bushes and then spent the rest of the night wandering in and out of the party with her own vomit drying in her hair. She could barely walk upright when Violet had last seen her.

“What if she's not lost?” Violet asked, hating the question even as it poisoned her lips.

“They can't rule that out either. They have every cop in the area looking for evidence, while half the city is combing the woods around the Hildebrands' house looking for that poor girl.” Her mom squeezed Violet's hand before letting it go. “Since you were there, your uncle Stephen might want to talk to you.”

“I'll get dressed and go over there,” Violet decided.

Her mom looked up, as if surprised by the declaration. “No, Vi. I think you should stay here today….” She didn't finish her thought, but Violet could hear the unspoken words that hung in the air…
where it's safe.

She thought about holing up in the house again, watching the clock and waiting, not doing anything productive, and she just couldn't take it. And then she wondered if she would sense anything when she got there…a new echo maybe. She pushed away the troubling thought.

“No, Mom. I'm gonna go talk to Uncle Stephen. Maybe something I saw,
anything
, can help them find her.” She was surprised by her own conviction, but she knew she hadn't yet convinced her mother, who was still wrestling with her own silent fears. “Don't worry, Dad's there. I won't do anything without his permission.”

Violet waited for her mom to say something, holding her breath and willing her mother to agree to let her go.

When she did finally speak, her words were unsteady and filled with defeated fatigue. “I'd feel better if Jay was going with you,” she said.

Me too,
Violet thought without giving her words voice.
Me too.

 

Violet wasn't sure what she'd expected to find when she turned down the road toward the house where she and her friends had partied just the night before. She had assumed there would be small groups moving around the area, calling out to the lost girl in hopes of finding her, misplaced among the thick stands of tall trees that practically overcrowded and dwarfed the few homes in the area.

But it wasn't just a few Good Samaritans helping a missing neighbor. This was a full-on search-and-rescue operation. It had the feel of organized chaos, with emphasis on the
organized
part.

Violet had to park her car much farther away than anyone had the night before, when they were just a bunch of teenagers converging on the semi-isolated house. And people were still arriving behind her. While ahead of her, emergency vehicles, both police and fire, hovered around the entrance to the forests that lay beyond.

Men and women, young and old, volunteers and professionals, all dressed in brightly colored vests, many of them carrying walkie-talkies, moved in smaller groups in all directions, efficiently combing the endless landscape with deliberate order. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. They were like a swarming sea of fluorescent vests, bobbing and shifting in steady progression.

Violet made a quick scan of the area as she walked toward the mass of people, to see if she could spot her father or her uncle in the throng of rescue workers. But if they were there,
they were lost among the crowd.

She approached what seemed to be the central hub of activity. Groups grew larger as more people arrived, waiting to be told what they could do to help. She recognized some of the people among them, parents of her friends, neighbors, people who worked at stores in the area, and even one of the teachers from her school.

A woman was passing out the neon-colored vests, while another was taking down the names of the volunteers and organizing them into search teams, each with a leader who was assigned a walkie-talkie. A man with a bullhorn was shouting out orders about where to check in and instructions on how to proceed once they got started. Everyone was handed a black-and-white flyer with a picture of the missing girl, and Violet was glad to replace the mental image she had of the stumbling, incoherent girl from the night before with this smiling photo.

She waited with a crowd of people who were hanging around one of the many uniformed police officers; she was hoping he might be able to tell her where she could find her uncle. Other people shouted out questions all around her.

How long has she been missing?

Was this where she was last seen?

Do they think the killer might have taken her?

Do they expect to find her alive?

Violet tried to push her way to the front of the gathering, to get the officer's attention, but it was like swimming upstream, and she found herself making backward progress instead as she was squeezed toward the rear of the group. She didn't want to
yell out and draw attention to herself, so eventually she just pried herself free from those looking for answers.

She wondered if coming here had been a mistake. Maybe she shouldn't have been so adamant about trying to help. But she felt guilty, riddled with a sense of at least some degree of responsibility for being among those who had last seen the girl…and one who hadn't bothered helping her when she'd so obviously been in need.

She drifted around, feeling a little like a wayward snowflake caught in a breeze, finally landing near the cluster of volunteers who were busy checking in.

“Are you already assigned to a team?”

Violet looked up, caught off guard by the woman passing out vests. “No,” she answered, thinking to tell the woman that she wasn't planning to join the search but never quite finding the words.

The woman handed Violet a vest and another woman assigned her to a team. She was introduced, only briefly, to her team leader, a man who was probably in his late fifties or early sixties. His gray hair was cut high and tight, army style, and he looked like he'd done a tour or two in some branch of the military. He handled his walkie-talkie like a seasoned veteran.

Surprisingly to Violet, however, especially since he gave the air of a man who had seen some action in his day, she sensed nothing at all from the über-militant team leader. John Richter carried none of the imprints of death she would have expected.

Maybe he wasn't so tough after all. Or maybe he'd just been lucky.

The no-nonsense team captain took the lead, reading the coordinates on the map he held and piloting them to the area they'd been assigned to search, which was circled in red Sharpie. There were five other members of her team, two women and three men. Violet didn't know anyone in her grouping, and she didn't really care. That way she didn't feel the need to make polite chitchat.

The farther they walked, passing other teams as they scoured the area, and moving deeper and deeper into the damp, darkening woods, the more ominous it all began to feel. Violet wasn't afraid, but she was definitely troubled by what they were doing out here. She had the foreboding sense that this was an effort in futility, that they were out here simply to rule out the possibility that Mackenzie had wandered away from the party and had gotten turned around among the trees…when it seemed so obvious to Violet, and probably to almost everyone around her too, what had really happened to her schoolmate.

He had gotten her.

Violet could hear the others, in all directions, calling out Mackenzie's name. They passed a few men who were carrying long wooden poles that looked like unpainted broom handles, and she could only imagine what they were meant to prod or uncover.

She followed her group until they reached their designated coordinates, and they were ordered by John Richter to fan out, keeping one another in their sights but spreading wide enough apart to cover as much ground as possible.

Violet moved with careful steps, losing herself in the process
of the search. The familiar, reassuring smells of the woodlands drifted around her. The Christmassy smell of the fir trees surrounded her, along with the dank, earthy scent of fallen autumn leaves left to decompose. The air was moist and thick with the kind of misty precipitation that was common this time of year in the Pacific Northwest. It seeped through Violet's clothing and her shoes, until it was pressing itself damply against her skin and chilling her all the way to the bone.

While she explored she was aware of several weak echoes around her, which she generally assumed were long-dead animals buried in the underbrush of the thickly overgrown forest floor. They were easy enough to ignore under the circumstances.

Other teams moved past and around them, moving in larger circles, widening the search and covering more and more area. The sheer number of people involved in looking for Mackenzie Sherwin seemed endless, and Violet took some amount of comfort in the fact that so many people were trying…that so many people cared.

She hoped beyond hope that their efforts would be rewarded.

But she wasn't holding her breath.