The Body Finder (8 page)

Grady grinned back at her. “Cool. I'll give you a call, and we can figure out the details later.”

As she pulled out of the parking lot, thirty-three minutes after school had let out, she waved at Grady, who looked like
he'd just won the lottery and needed to find someone he could gloat to.

He waved back at her, but she never even saw him. She was already lost in her own thoughts, trying to figure out why Jay had blown her off so unexpectedly.

VIOLET SPENT THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON
brooding…getting angrier and angrier, and feeling worse and worse. She'd hoped that her homework might provide some sort of diversion, occupying her thoughts with something other than being annoyed with Jay.

But there hadn't been enough homework for her to do, there probably wasn't enough homework in the world, to distract her for very long. She thought about Jay while she was doing her trig assignment, she thought about him while she wrote her English paper, and she even thought about him when she was reading about the Lewis and Clark expedition. And not a single one of the thoughts she'd had was very pleasant at all.

Violet knew that her parents were concerned about her from the way they kept asking if she was feeling okay, or if everything was all right at school, casually trying to coax her problems out of her. She felt a little guilty that she didn't want to talk about it, especially after all the worry she'd put them through when she'd discovered the dead girl in Lake Tapps. But she couldn't help it, and as soon as she finished dinner, which consisted of a delivery pizza and a bag of prepackaged Caesar salad, she hurried up to her room where she could be alone.

She turned on the stereo and tried to finish her math homework. But instead, she ended up doodling along the edges of her paper and replaying the day's events through her head. She wished again that she had just left after school let out, without waiting there like an idiot for Jay.

And now, with a little distance from the moment, she also wished that she hadn't agreed to go to Homecoming with Grady. She wouldn't have done it if she hadn't been so angry with Jay, so somehow even
that
became his fault.

She was sprawled across her bed on her stomach, trying to concentrate on the next equation, when she heard her mom knocking on the door. She tried to pretend she didn't hear it. She just wasn't up for a lecture about how holding her feelings inside wasn't healthy and would block her chakras. But her mom didn't give up easily and she knocked again…louder this time.

Violet pressed her forehead against her palms, trying to ward off the headache that was starting to pound behind her
eyes, probably from her backed-up chakras, and she sighed her answer, half hoping it wouldn't be heard. “Come in.”

She listened as the door opened, but she just couldn't bring herself to look up. She didn't have the energy to have this conversation right now, so she decided to lie to her mom. “I have a lot of homework,” she said before her mom could ask her what was wrong again. “I'm fine.
Really
. And I need to get this done.”

When her mom didn't say anything right away, Violet felt hopeful that maybe she'd bought it and had decided to leave her alone after all. She waited to hear the sound of the door closing again. Instead she heard Jay's voice.

“Really…you're fine? Because I'm not.”

Violet looked up in surprise. Jay was the last person she'd expected to find in her room tonight.

He gave her an apologetic smile when she didn't say anything right away. “You're not gonna kick me out, are you?”

Violet wasn't sure how she should react. She really
wanted
to stay mad at him; it was easier than admitting, even to herself, that her feelings had been hurt today. But, somehow, seeing him standing there—in person—took some of the wind out of her sails. She suddenly wished she could read his thoughts.

She shrugged, trying to keep her fragile hold on her already disintegrating anger. “No” was all she said, still waiting to see why he'd come. She sat up, watching him cautiously.

He sat down on the edge of her bed, and she felt herself shifting toward him as her mattress sank beneath his weight.
“Look, Violet, I'm really sorry about today. I shouldn't have left without you.
You
didn't do anything.”

When she looked at him, listening to his explanation, she felt her heart foolishly clamoring inside her chest.

He paused, and then continued. “It's not like I'm mad that you're going to the dance. I was
hoping
you'd go to the dance.” He grimaced, and Violet thought he seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and she wondered what it was that he
wasn't
saying. He let out his breath and admitted, “I guess I just didn't expect it to be with Grady.”

So this was about Grady? She opened her mouth and started to say something, to tell him that she hadn't planned on telling Grady yes, but before she could interrupt him, he plunged on. “I know…it's stupid, and it's really none of my business, and we've all been friends for so long, and…and I don't know, Violet…I guess I didn't want the fact that you two are going on a date to mess things up.”

Violet could no longer hold on to her frustration; now she was struggling with unspoken regret for not being able to tell him how she really felt about him. But he kept talking. “I realize that I had no right to get pissed off about it, though, and I acted like a total baby by leaving school today without telling you. I guess I just didn't want to run into the two of you since you said you were meeting him after school.”

She picked at a piece of fuzz on her blanket. Violet wished now, more than ever, that she'd told Grady no.

“It's okay, I guess. But it's not like Grady and I are dating
or anything. It's just a dance—
one night
—it doesn't mean
anything.
I promise it's not going to ruin friendships. Especially not
ours.
”

“I know. I don't know why I got so bent about it. For some reason it just caught me off guard and I acted like a total jackass. I'm really sorry, Violet.” The sweet sincerity of his voice caressed her.

She grinned at him. “Yeah, I know, you said that already.” She nudged him with her sock-clad foot. “I forgive you…you know, for being such a
jackass
.”

He grabbed her foot and yanked it until she was lying on her back. She giggled, feeling better already just knowing she didn't have to spend any more time being angry with him.

But she also decided that this was as good a time as any for her to say something she'd been meaning to tell him for a while now…something that she hadn't been able to bring herself to say before.

“Hey,” she said seriously, “since we're apologizing tonight, I want to say something too.”

He flopped down on the bed, lying right beside her. She waited for the sense of calm that his nearness usually brought to her, but it never came. She wasn't exactly sure what she was so nervous about, but somehow lying here, with his face only a breath away from hers, she was more uncomfortable than ever, and her uneasiness, and quite possibly the heat of his body against hers, made her hesitate.

Once again, Jay seemed to be reading her mind, and Violet wondered if she were really that transparent. She hoped he
couldn't read
everything
that was going on up there.

“Go ahead, Vi. You can say anything to me.” His lazy half-smile was mesmerizing, and she found herself staring at his lips for too long. “Anything,” he reassured her gently, and she wondered what those lips would feel like against her own.

It was now or never, she thought wryly, and she blinked to break his mind-numbing spell over her. “I…I'm really sorry…about that day at the lake. I didn't mean to make you see that….” Now that she was in the middle of it, the words seemed even harder to find, and she wasn't sure just how to say what she was trying to say. Inside her head she always sounded so confident and sure of herself, but somehow when the words reached her lips they fell out in a stammering mess. “…I shouldn't have gone there…especially since I was pretty sure there was…you know,
something
there.”

Jay shook his head and propped himself on his elbow so that he was looking down at her. “You don't have to apologize for that. I know that what you
find
is out of your control.” He reached out and brushed a stray piece of hair out of Violet's face. His words were as gentle and thoughtfully sincere as his touch. “Besides, if you'd have told me ahead of time that you were sensing something there, I would have gone with you anyway. It's not your fault it happened to be
a girl
and not some animal in there.

“I just don't want you to shut me out when you're
feeling
something. We've been friends for too long, Violet. I
want
you to tell me if you're ever sensing anything strange.”

His hand fell away from her face, and Violet had to fight
the urge to shudder in the wake of the electric charge she felt from his touch. Where his fingertips had brushed against her flushed cheeks they were still tingling. She decided to keep that
strange sensation
to herself.

“I know it's not my fault, but I should have at least warned you.” She wanted him to understand how badly she felt about making him a witness to something he never should have seen. “Anyway,” she continued, “I'm sorry for that.”

“I'm pretty sure you said that already,” he responded, using her earlier words against her.

She smiled, desperately wishing he'd touch her again. She hoped he couldn't see that in her face too. “I just don't want anything bad between us,” she offered by way of an explanation.

“I know.” He reached out, capturing her hand in his. He laced his fingers casually through hers.

Violet leaned against him and the calm finally came, settling over her peacefully.

And then he kissed her. Gently. Softly. Not on the lips, as she'd imagined so many times before, but on her forehead.

The gesture was sweet and a little possessive.

Violet hoped, maybe, it was a start.

EACH HUNT WAS AS UNIQUE AS THE GIRL HERSELF.

It was better if no two girls were
extracted
in exactly the same way. Or from the same area.

But that had become increasingly difficult, as absences from his job became more and more conspicuous. So he'd been forced to hunt closer to home recently, and that meant taking more precautions than he had in the past. It meant being even more diligent. Meticulous.

Not that he'd been sloppy before. He was never sloppy; it went against everything he believed in.

He ran his finger along the razor-smooth edge of his KA-BAR tactical knife. He knew he wouldn't have to use it; the terrifying effect of the weapon in the presence of the girls was enough to cause total
submission. Just stroking the steel blade stimulated him in ways no woman ever had.

He stuffed the military-grade knife in his “briefcase,” a nondescript duffel bag he carried whenever he went out on a hunt, next to the duct tape and the zip ties.

He didn't mind the extra safety measures he had to take. In fact, for some reason it added to the excitement of it all, the increased risk of searching out girls who lived in such close proximity to where he lived and worked. It was like pissing in his own backyard. Sick and wrong. And he liked it.

He checked himself in the mirror one last time before heading out the door.

The hunt was on.

 

By a quarter past twelve, he was in a shitty mood.

Nothing had gone well. He hadn't spotted even one promising prospect out on the streets after dark.

He'd been afraid this might happen. Not so much that he wouldn't find a girl, but that his choices would be limited, his options less attractive. Literally. He preferred the pretty ones.

He knew that word of the disappearances had spread, and families were watching their daughters a little more closely. But there were exceptions to every rule. The stupid and weak always separated from the herd eventually.

All of the girls he'd seen tonight had either been traveling in groups or weren't worth his effort.

He was about to call it a night when he spotted her. Crossing the dark street. Alone. And pretty.

He didn't waste any time.

“You need a ride?” he asked through his open window, his car slowing to match her pace.

“It's okay,” she answered, glancing up just long enough to acknowledge him. “I just live down the street.”

“I don't mind at all. In fact, I'd feel better if you let me drive you.”

She slowed down a little but didn't stop. He knew she was wavering, but not enough, so he added, “With everything that's going on lately…you know, with the girls that have been found…” He left the sentence hanging, hoping to strike some fear in this one, but he must have misjudged her.

There was fear, all right, but not the kind he'd hoped for. He saw the alarm flash across her face, and he couldn't help but wonder what she recognized in him that the others hadn't.

Her pace quickened, and he could see her fumbling nervously for something in her pocket. He saw what it was the second she had it free. Her cell phone.

She wanted to call for help.

He couldn't let her, but he'd have to act fast if he planned to stop her.

He slammed on his brakes and shoved the transmission into park. The girl started running before he was even out of his car.

The little bitch was fast!

He raced after her, his heavy boots falling loudly against the pavement. The advantage she'd gained in her head start was quickly lost to his superior agility.

Plus, it was always easier to be the predator than the prey. Prey panicked.

He hit her from behind, and he heard her squeal as the air was knocked from her lungs beneath his weight when he crushed her to the ground. The cell phone skittered across the street.

His hand shot out, before she could find her breath again, covering her mouth. It was bad enough she'd run; he didn't need her screaming too.

He rolled swiftly onto his back, taking her with him so that she was lying on top of his chest as he surveyed the area for possible witnesses. This had the potential for true disaster; this could be the mistake he'd avoided making for so long.

But they were still alone. Just the two of them.

She fought him, thrashing violently against his grip, even though he knew she was aware of his strength as he restrained her. She was like a rag doll flopping helplessly in his arms. He tightened his grip on her anyway, struggling against an instinct to smother her with his hand.

In one rapid motion, he jumped to his feet, hauling her up with him. His car was still running, and was far too easy to spot with its headlights filling the darkened street.

He was angry with the girl. She shouldn't have run. She wasn't supposed to do that; they were
never
supposed to do that.

She had ruined the hunt for him…ruined the mood.

He reached inside the open car door and released the trunk. He didn't take care with this one
—this girl—
she didn't deserve his concern or his gentle reassurances.

When she saw where he was taking her, she kicked at him with her legs. He slammed her against the hard edge of the trunk's opening, letting her head smack against the metal exterior of the car before
throwing her inside. In the split second that her mouth was uncovered she tried to scream for help, but his fist found her jaw before the sound could gain any momentum. It came out in an injured whimper instead.

Some of his mood was restored.

He worked quickly, grabbing his tool bag, and ripping a piece of duct tape from the roll. She thrashed sideways, away from the silver adhesive, but he tangled his fingers into her hair and jerked her back, sealing her mouth shut once and for all.

The zip ties made her hands and feet useless, forcing her to be the kind of docile victim he preferred. He watched as he saw some of the fire fading from her eyes. She stared back at him pleadingly.

He felt much better.

In a moment of compassion, he tried to stroke her face comfortingly, but the instant he touched her, the panic returned, and she struggled all over again, straining against the plastic strips that bound her wrists and ankles.

Bitch,
he silently cursed her.
Stupid little bitch!

He slammed the trunk hard, glad to be done with her. He was tired of looking at her. He didn't care if she was afraid or if she suffered.

He knew one thing for certain…the next time he saw her, she wouldn't be fighting.