The Body Finder (11 page)

Violet didn't want to waste her time arguing, so she just shook her head as she opened the door. “You're crazy! You know that, don't you?” She didn't wait for him to answer as she disappeared into the empty bathroom, but she swore she heard the sound of his laughter following her inside.

There was something mildly creepy about the pale, washed-out bathrooms at this theater. They were usually empty while the movies were running in the multiplex, and
the cold, ghostly lighting cast an almost menacing pallor across the small, white, hexagonal tiles of the floors. The fluorescent tubing even made an ominous humming sound that echoed against the walls around her. She was actually kind of glad that Jay was waiting outside the door.

Violet hurried in and out of the stall, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she washed her hands. Even in this lighting, she had to admit that she didn't look too terrible. She'd never really thought of herself as pretty, but she knew she wasn't unattractive either. She never wanted to be one of those girls who looked for flaws, picking themselves apart with unjust criticisms.

She turned on the air dryer hanging on the wall, but got impatient with how long it was taking and finally dried her hands on her jeans as she went back out to where Jay was waiting for her, still leaning casually against the wall.

She didn't stop to wait for him, and he had to rush to keep up with her. “What took you so long?” he whispered as they looked for their seats in the dark again.

She didn't respond to his question; she was still annoyed that he thought she needed an escort just to go to the restroom. But once they were sitting, Jay reached out and took her hand once more.

Violet didn't complain about it. She liked it too much to complain.

His hands were strong and so much larger than hers now. His skin felt thicker—tougher—than her own, and the contrast was exhilarating. Just his touch made her feel warm all over.

She was disappointed when the movie came to an end, even though he showed no signs of releasing his grip on her hand. And she was more than a little embarrassed to realize that she'd barely paid attention to the show at all. She'd had other, more interesting, things on her mind. She desperately hoped that Jay didn't ask her any questions about the movie she was supposed to have watched.

They saw Amanda's little group on their way out to the parking lot, but this time Jay barely acknowledged them, simply nodding his head in their direction as they passed. Violet was aware of the looks exchanged by the three girls as they made it clear that they'd noticed he was holding her hand.

Jay must have seen it too, because he gave her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze.

It made Violet curious about all the times that she thought Jay was completely clueless about the attention he'd been getting from the girls at school. She wondered if he was more aware than he let on about how much interest he'd stirred in the female population at White River High.

And then her blood ran cold as another thought occurred to her. If he wasn't entirely ignorant about what he was doing to the other girls, what did he know about her own thoughts and fantasies? Could he possibly suspect how she really felt about him? Was she as transparent as Amanda and the other girls at school had been?

That would be terrible!
Violet thought miserably. She was going to have to be more careful around him and stop obsessing over him like one of his little groupies.

She decided that, from this point on, despite the fact it was something she desperately wanted, she couldn't risk ruining what they had. Their friendship, which had been a part of her life for almost as long as she could remember, was far too important to her to do anything that might jeopardize it.

She pulled her hand away from his, feeling suddenly decisive and strong. But it turned out to be less a show of resolve than she'd meant it to be, considering that they'd reached the car and she would have had to let go anyway. Jay opened the passenger-side door, and she slid inside.

She looked down at her hand, which was still warm from his touch, and she could already feel herself missing the contact with him. She didn't entirely understand the sense of loss she felt about something that she'd never really had in the first place.

Besides, Violet thought, she had more important things to worry about right now.

She needed to find the killer, to stop him before he could hurt anyone else.

How was she ever going to do that if she was too busy crushing on her best friend?

SUNDAY, VIOLET AND JAY SPENT MOST OF THE DAY
at the local mall. They wandered in and out of the stores, had lunch at the food court, and even spent some time playing video games in the arcade, which, as it turned out, was more for Jay's benefit than for hers. She was so terrible at all of the games she tried that she'd spent ten dollars in less than ten minutes. Jay was still on his first two quarters by the time she was finished.

She decided that she couldn't afford to spend too much time in the arcade.

Violet stood beside the game Jay was playing—
very well
, she had to admit—and she looked around her. The electronic
sounds of the games were almost deafening, especially to someone who was so hyper-aware of her senses. But Violet already knew that the man she was looking for wasn't here. It would have been easy for her to spot the radiant imprint she was looking for, especially in the dark confines of the arcade.

She looked back to the video game monitor and tried to feign interest in what was happening on the screen, but soon she was bored, and she decided she would rather wait for Jay in the mall. He didn't look up from what he was doing long enough to notice that she was leaving.

She left the sensory overload of the arcade behind her as she stepped into the wide-open space of the atrium. They'd already had lunch, and Violet had no desire to eat again, so instead she started to wander the storefronts near the food court.

She glanced around her. The mall was crowded, and there were lines at several of the eateries. Women with toddlers and preschoolers in tow converged on the McDonald's. The smells from the different fast-food restaurants, all lingering together, were strong but not entirely unpleasant.

And then she noticed something strange.

Suddenly it wasn't the smells that Violet was acutely aware of but rather the
taste
. She had the strangest sensation of garlic in the back of her mouth…it was pungent and thick, and nearly overpowering.

This was it. This might be the something she'd been looking for.

An echo of some sort.

Violet looked around her, trying to imagine where it might be coming from, but there was really only one way to be sure.

She started walking, leaving the food court behind her and moving farther into the mall. When the pungent taste grew stronger, Violet knew she was heading in the right direction.

Her heart rate increased and her other senses heightened as she looked around her, wondering if she might be walking right toward the killer. She was terrified and at the same time exhilarated. She knew Jay would be mad at her for wandering off.

She reached the end of the offshoot of the mall that housed the food court and arcade, and met the larger inner space of the shopping center, where big department stores dwarfed the outlets and boutiques. She had to decide which way to go now.

She chose to go left and found herself heading toward two of the larger department stores. It seemed like a fine choice, a busy section of the mall, but after walking past several stores she knew she'd picked the wrong direction. The garlicky taste in her mouth began to fade. She turned around and headed back in the opposite direction.

She passed her starting point and kept going, moving toward Sears and Macy's. She concentrated on the sensation inside of her mouth, savoring the garlicky flavor…not because she enjoyed the taste, but because it was acting like a compass…guiding her way.

The taste grew stronger, and more tangible, the farther
she walked. Her pulse quickened and her breathing began to feel hoarse and erratic. She looked everywhere, at everyone, trying to decide who it might be…where the echo, or imprint, was coming from. She had to weave around mothers pushing strollers and couples holding hands.

And then, without warning, the taste began to fade again, and Violet felt herself spiraling into a frustrated panic. She stopped right where she was, in the middle of the mall, in the middle of the heavy pedestrian traffic, looking around her for a clue as to where she should go next. A shopper passed her, bumping Violet with the overflowing shopping bags that hung from her arms. Violet ignored the woman.

She walked back the other way, trying to recapture the taste.

When she did, it only grew stronger for several long strides, before disappearing again.

Violet watched the people around her, trying to see where he was…and just
who
he might be. But there were so many people, moving in so many directions, that she couldn't tell who it was coming from. She glanced at the nearest stores and tried approaching each of them, one at a time, but the taste only faded when she did.

He wasn't in the stores. So where was he, then?

She turned around, feeling waves of disappointment washing over her, and just when she decided that she might have to give up, the taste hit her again…stronger than before. And she realized that he had to be close.

That was when she noticed it…the long, narrow hallway
leading off the main drag of the mall, with the sign hanging above the entrance that read
RESTROOMS
.

Violet approached the poorly lit hallway slowly…cautiously, feeling overwhelmed by the unexpected apprehension. She couldn't be sure, but she thought that her legs might be shaking as she made her way toward the public bathrooms.

She approached the men's room, and when her taste buds nearly exploded from the burst of hot garlic that shot through them—her mouth felt like it was on fire—she knew that whoever he was, he was inside.

She paused, suddenly unsure. She didn't know if she could do this. She was so close to discovering whoever it was that carried the imprint of death, the one who was making her mouth feel like she'd just eaten an entire plate of warm, buttery-soft garlic cloves. But she couldn't help thinking that maybe she was too close. Maybe Jay had been right. Maybe this
was
too dangerous.

She felt frozen in place as time slowed down. She could hear the beat of her thundering heart in her ears, and her mouth was suddenly parched. She tentatively stepped closer to the door in front of her, just one small step. She was still trying to decide whether she should go inside or just stay put until whoever was in there came out. Goose bumps prickled up and down her arms, and she held her breath, afraid that if she let it out, somehow he might hear her behind the door…waiting for him.

She took another tense step forward.

It wasn't until she felt a hand close around her wrist that she realized someone was standing right behind her. A strong
arm pulled her backward before she even had a chance to react. Her eyes widened, and she tried to remember how to scream, but her voice was frozen, and for a moment, she thought she might have forgotten how to breathe as well.

“What the hell are you doing here?”
She was stunned to hear Jay's voice whispering against her ear. He didn't sound happy.

She turned to face him and wasn't quite sure what she saw there. Concern? Irritation? Annoyance?
Definitely
annoyance.

But before she could even try to explain why she'd left the arcade, he put his finger to his lips, dragging her close to him so he could speak in a voice that was quieter than a whisper. “Did you sense something?” The words were just a sliver of sound.

Violet nodded, a little surprised by the rigid expression she saw on his face.

Again, his voice was nearly inaudible but it was filled with purpose. “Is he in there?” Jay asked, indicating the public restroom.

She nodded for a second time.

“You.”
He barely said the word, but Violet felt the gravity of his frustration. “Go wait in the center of the mall, by the benches.
And don't move until I get there
.”

Violet started to protest, finally realizing that he meant to go into the men's room by himself. “What if—?” she began, but he cut her off with an unwavering stare that silenced her before she could finish her argument.

“Seriously, Violet.
I mean it.
” He nudged her back toward the mall, and Violet decided that now wasn't the time to argue with him. She knew from the look on his face that he was
determined, and that nothing she said was going to change his mind.

She was certain that she was shaking now as she made her way back through the endless stream of shoppers. She was suddenly all too aware of what she'd been about to do, of what Jay had just stopped her from doing, and she realized how absurdly dangerous it had been.
Had she really been about to do something so foolish?

The unfortunate answer was yes. And Jay had known it too, which was why he was so angry with her. He'd told her not to leave his sight; he'd made a promise to her parents that he would take care of her, and she'd ignored all of it.

She sat down on a bench in the middle of the bustling shopping center and tried to focus on something other than what Jay might be doing at that very moment. She felt raw with terror. What if the killer was in there? What would Jay do? And worse, what could the killer do to Jay?

Violet wrung her hands nervously in her lap as she waited for what seemed like an eternity, watching the entrance of the hallway anxiously and hoping for a glimpse of Jay.

When she finally saw him, and he appeared to be all in one piece, she jumped up and nearly shoved passersby out of the way to get to him. The look on his face hadn't changed in the minutes that had passed, but Violet didn't care, because even though he was still mad at her, he was obviously safe.

“You're okay.” It was a statement, not a question, and her words were filled with relief. “What happened?”

Jay pulled her aside, to where they were out of the way of the foot traffic. His touch was comforting to Violet despite
the fact that it completely lacked any trace of tenderness.

“There were just some punk kids in there…smoking. So unless the guy's in junior high, it wasn't him.” Violet was surprised to hear an edge of frustration in his voice that had nothing to do with her. She'd assumed that Jay was there only to humor her and to keep her out of trouble. She hadn't believed that he had any real interest in finding this guy. And yet, when he'd told her that the killer wasn't in there, he seemed genuinely disappointed.

Suddenly a wave of garlic burst freshly across her tongue. She spun around in time to see a group of boys exiting the hallway where the restrooms were, and walking right toward where she and Jay stood.

Violet reached out and grabbed Jay's arm for support, feeling nauseous from the fiery blast that assaulted her mouth.

As they passed, a boy, maybe only thirteen or fourteen years old, looked up at her. The contrast of his dyed black hair against his pale, sallow skin made him seem anemic and sickly at first glance. But when his eyes met hers, in that split second, she felt a level of cruelty coming from deep within him that practically blistered her with its intensity. The searing flashes of garlic were like explosions that angrily scalded her tongue as he stared back at her.

Whether real or imagined, Violet could envision this boy, who was probably accustomed to hurting small creatures at random, growing into the kind of man who
could
actually kidnap and murder young girls.

But for now, at least, he wasn't the person she was searching for.

Violet had to look away first, closing her eyes until he'd passed her by completely.

“Was that who you sensed?” Jay asked.

Violet could only nod, waiting until the queasiness, and the lingering flavor of the boy's particular brand of evil, faded away.

Jay didn't ask her if she was ready to go or not; he just put his arm around her. There was nothing gentle or reassuring about the contact, it was meant more to guide than to comfort her, as he led her out of the mall to the car.

They drove home without speaking—Jay was too angry, and Violet too exhausted from her brush with malevolence. She was still reeling from the intensity of the sensations she'd experienced from the hate-filled boy.

She knew she couldn't do that again, just go randomly looking for a killer in their midst. It had been too hard on her today. She was used to trying to buffer herself from those kinds of feelings; she had practiced building up walls to shield herself from experiencing that kind of intensity. Especially when she wasn't even sure exactly what she was looking for. She didn't think she could take much more of that.

If she was going to try again, she was going to need a better game plan, she decided. And this time it was going to require some serious preparation.