The Body Finder

CHAPTER 26

THE GIRLS’ BATHROOM, THE ONE CLOSEST TO THE interior gymnasium doors, was a central hub of activity, and as soon as they went inside, Chelsea changed her mind about being there.

“Come on. I know it’s farther, but let’s go to the one past the locker rooms. There’s probably no one there.” She looked meaningfully at a couple of senior girls wearing their fake-jewel-encrusted princess crowns and lowered her voice. “Where the workers are, the queen can’t be far behind.” And Violet couldn’t help laughing at Chelsea’s stupid bee analogy, as she pictured Lissie Adams buzzing around with a stinger sticking out of her ass.

They all agreed, even though they knew it would take forever to get there since they would have to wait for Violet. But this time no one complained.

Chelsea was right. The bathroom was deserted. But even way out here, they could still feel the floor vibrating from the deep bass coming from the gym. It was nice to be able to talk, just the four of them, especially since what they really wanted to talk about was the other girls at the dance. This way they didn’t have to worry about whose feet were under the stalls or who might be eavesdropping on their conversation.

Chelsea, of course, was the first one to speak up. “Okay, am I the only one who noticed how gi-mungous Mimi Nichols’s dress makes her ass look? Of course, you can barely notice it since her freakishly giant boobs are practically hanging out the top of it.” Chelsea glanced at Jules and grinned. “No offense, of course,” she offered, raising her eyebrows at Jules’s chest.

Claire giggled, and Jules wrinkled up her face in disgust at Chelsea’s teasing barb. “You’re just jealous,” she retorted, eyeing Chelsea’s chest in return.

“Touché, Jules. Touché!” Chelsea admitted.

Claire wanted so badly to join in on the catty conversation, but she was terrible at finding other people’s flaws…at least intentionally. Still, she gave it her best shot. “And what about Jennifer Cummings?” she asked accusingly, trying to mimic one of Chelsea’s cutting looks.

They looked around at one another, wondering what it was that they weren’t getting. Chelsea was the only one brave enough to ask, “What about her, Claire?”

“She does not even look kind of cute!” Claire stated, her face a mask of mock horror.

They all stared at her, not sure what to say.

And then once again, of course, it was Chelsea who broke the stunned silence. “I swear, Claire-bear, I am going to call your mom and tell her you need to start riding the short bus. You really need to start practicing your bitchy comments. What are you gonna do when we’re not here to get your back?”

Claire rolled her eyes, too oblivious to be insulted, which was why she was the perfect friend for Chelsea, who was too insulting to be oblivious. “Geez, Chels, I don’t even ride the bus.”

Jules couldn’t help herself; despite her best efforts to hold on to her detached cool, she started laughing. And pretty soon they were all laughing, even Claire, who still didn’t realize what they were laughing at.

“You guys are so mean!” Violet charged accusingly. “Can’t you just have fun and stop picking everyone apart?”

Chelsea looked disgusted. “You’ve gone soft, haven’t you? Jay has made you soft!”

Violet rolled her eyes, smiling despite her best efforts. “Whatever. Everyone’s soft compared to you.”

“Ouch!” Chelsea pretended to be wounded. But again, she just couldn’t pull it off.

They spent some time primping in front of the mirror, fixing stray pieces of hair and touching up lip gloss. Violet looked down at her bandaged foot and tried to wiggle her toes, which felt like they were being pinched in an unyielding vise. Her mom had obviously wrapped it too tight.

She sat down on a wooden bench that was bolted to the floor…in case some high school hooligan like herself decided to make off with it, she supposed. She set down her crutches, leaning them against the wall, as she assessed the damage to her throbbing foot. She wondered briefly if the stretchy Ace bandages could actually cut off her circulation. She only half jokingly hoped her toes wouldn’t fall off.

“Ready?” Chelsea asked after using the bathroom, as if now that she was finished, they all should be.

“Mmm…not yet,” Violet said, leaning down to loosen the wrapping around her ankle. She glanced up at her three best friends, who looked amazing in their dazzling dresses, and she felt guilty about keeping them away from the dance any longer. “You guys go ahead. I’m just gonna redo this and I’ll be right there.”

Chelsea looked a little skeptical about leaving Violet behind, the first hint of humanity she’d shown all evening. “I don’t know…”

“Go on, I’ll just be a few minutes,” Violet assured her.

“You sure?” Jules asked.

“Seriously. I’m right behind you,” she said convincingly.

Violet watched them go before turning her concentration back to her foot. She carefully unrolled the bandage, breathing easier as she felt the restricted blood begin to flow more freely. She sighed out loud when she felt the last remnant of bandage slacken and then snap elastically off her swollen ankle. She could see the impression of the bandage in her distended skin. She leaned back, giving herself just a brief moment to savor the relief, allowing her foot to breathe a little.

She knew she needed to get on with it, before Jay got impatient and decided to come in after her.

She leaned down, suddenly glad that she wasn’t strapped into a tight, corset-style dress like Jules was wearing. Honestly, she didn’t think she’d be able to breathe in that thing, let alone bend over. She started to wrap the flexible fabric around and around, giving her foot a little more space than her mom had. The bench beneath her began to vibrate harder, as a song change meant even more of the insufferable bass, setting Violet’s teeth on edge as she struggled to concentrate on what she was doing.

She heard the door, but she was almost finished, she almost had the last piece of bandage right where she needed it. She absently reached for one of the small silver clasps with the jagged teeth that would hold the binding in place. When the door opened, the music grew louder, as did the deep rumbling from the speakers. Violet assumed that someone else had the same idea that Chelsea had, about avoiding the overcrowded bathrooms nearest to the dance. She didn’t look up to see who it was.

She fumbled with the first fastener, finally getting it right, and then reached up to grab the second where she had placed it on the bench beside her. Her fingers groped but found nothing there.

She glanced back at the bench beside her, moving only her eyes, but before she could find it, she was distracted. A hand reached out in front of her, holding the clasp out to her.

“Thank you,” she said, her fingers momentarily brushing the warm skin as she reached out to take it.

And she froze, her hand feeling scalded by the brief contact. She looked up, again with only her eyes, and she gasped, instinctively drawing away her hand and holding it against her chest.

“You don’t need it now?” the deep male voice asked her casually, as if it were perfectly natural that he was in the girls’ bathroom with her.

She sat up, ignoring his question as she studied him, from head to toe, taking in every detail of his outfit…his uniform. She should have felt better, reassured by his presence, but she couldn’t…not knowing what she knew. Not after touching his hand and feeling what she’d felt.

The shrill vibrations. The ones that had nothing to do with the pulsating beat coming from the dance. The same high-pitched, ear-piercing resonance she’d felt before…in the woods when she’d fallen. The day she’d been chased.

And she recognized him, not just by the familiar imprint he carried, but by his face as well. Although it wasn’t from the day he’d followed her, tracking her like a wounded animal among the trees. She recognized him from a different day, the day that she, along with everyone else in town, had been searching in the woods for Mackenzie Sherwin.

She’d run into him that day, right before she’d located the killer, when she’d been following Brooke’s bells. He was the officer she’d collided with.

He raised his eyebrows, as he watched all of this cross her face. Each of them scrutinized the other…she trying to figure out how he could possibly be the killer, one of her uncle’s own officers…and he, trying to decide how she knew.

He spoke first, his curiosity getting the better of him. “How did you do it? When no one else could, how did you figure it out?”

Violet’s mouth went dry as her mind raced through half a dozen options, some of which she ruled out immediately. Running was impossible. Screaming was futile all the way out here, especially with the DJ trying his best to rupture eardrums. Her cell phone was in her purse, but she’d left that with Jay since it was too difficult for her to carry. Crying…begging…pleading. All viable options.

And then she decided. Lying.

She did her best to look confused, praying that he didn’t know as much as he seemed to. “What are you talking about?” Her voice was quivering. “Is something wrong, officer?”

He paused thoughtfully, seeming to consider her questions. He was tall, massive really, with broad, boulderlike shoulders that seemed to shrink the space of the restroom. His uniform stretched tightly across the wide expanse of his chest. He grinned at her, showing a glimpse of his white teeth, but still he remained silent.

Violet’s heart surged violently. She decided to try another tack, in case he didn’t know who she was. “Did my uncle send you in here?” she tried nervously. “Chief Ambrose?”

He took a step closer to her, if that was even possible. “You can drop the act.” He skipped a beat, and then he added, “Violet.” He said her name in a way that suggested that there was never a doubt; he knew exactly who she was. And then his voice changed, leaving no wiggle room when he commanded her harshly, “Stop toying with me. I’m asking the questions here. Understand?”

Violet jumped. Her stomach felt queasy, and she started to shake, unable to contain the shuddering fear coursing through her. She nodded apprehensively, her eyes wide.

“I did some digging,” he finally explained, his voice oddly composed again. “You’ve been there all along the way. I’m not even sure that you know how far back you and I go.” He stepped back in an informal manner, his body relaxing as he launched into his explanation. “I didn’t realize it right away. In fact, I might never have realized it, if I hadn’t seen you in action for myself.” His gaze swept over her as she sat, transfixed, listening in frozen horror to the menacing tenor of his deep voice.

She had a hard time concentrating, separating his words and his voice from the high-pitched ringing reverberations he unwittingly carried. She could barely believe that she hadn’t noticed it sooner, that she hadn’t recognized the sound earlier when it was so close to her. How could she have missed it? Even if she had been deaf she should have noticed that sensation.

It was impossible to ignore now. He, of course, was completely unaware of it.

“I would never have suspected you if I hadn’t been there that day, at my partner’s house, when your uncle brought you out to look for…for what? Clues? Bodies? Of course, you must know by now that I had a partner. I doubt you thought it was a coincidence that I was in the woods with you when you had your”-he paused-“your accident.”

Violet thought it was ludicrous that he would call it anything other than what it was. He had tried to attack her, and if it hadn’t been for Jay showing up, he would have. “It wasn’t an accident,” she heard herself saying with more conviction than she would have thought possible under the circumstances.

He laughed at her. “It was, actually. That was not how I intended for things to end up. It was simply fortuitous for you that your boyfriend came along when he did.” And then he added, as if boasting, “I could have killed you both out there, but I hadn’t planned on using a weapon…” He smiled at her. “And I really didn’t want witnesses to what I was going to do, even the kind that don’t live to tell about it. So I decided to wait. I wanted to have you all to myself.”

“Why?” Violet asked, even though she already knew the answer to the question. Because she knew too much, and he couldn’t risk being revealed.

He didn’t bother answering her question. Instead, he kept talking. “After I saw you out there at my partner’s house, pointing out spots that your uncle later ordered exhumed, I realized that somehow you knew where the bodies were buried. Even the ones that didn’t turn out to be human.” He raised his eyebrows. “Did you know that? That we found animals buried in those places?” He shrugged. “You probably already knew that,” he said, more to himself than to her now.

“I was curious about you, so I started to go through the case files. I found something interesting. Your name, it showed up in only one place. One place,” he announced, seemingly baffled by the solitary connection, as if he’d expected more. “You found my poor little lake girl. But you know…” he added, narrowing his eyes with the anticipation of a hunter targeting its prey. His eyes locked on to hers. “…She wasn’t the first of my girls that you found.”

His news wasn’t a complete surprise; she’d known about the girl in the woods, the one she’d found when she was eight years old, and her uncle had already told her that the other man had confessed to killing the girl. But somehow imagining that these two lunatics had been hunting together for that long, that these psychotic killers had found each other in the first place, and then stayed together for over eight years, was appalling to Violet.

Her head was spinning.

This is crazy, she told herself.

He didn’t wait for her to respond, and she didn’t. He seemed to like flaunting his twisted prowess. Besides, what difference did it make if she knew? She doubted he planned on letting her get away from him again.

“That’s right,” he said, enjoying the game he was playing now. “The little girl who found the little girl. Of course, at the time I had no idea that you were involved, and according to the official records, you weren’t. But the name listed in the file was close enough. An Ambrose is an Ambrose, and your father’s name was as indicative as your own would have been.” He leaned closer to her, as if he was telling her a secret, even though they were all alone. “I wonder why he felt the need to leave your name out of it.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to; he wasn’t really asking her a question. But his nearness was unnerving, and Violet found herself leaning back against the wall to get away from him.

He straightened up, his voice taking on a deceptively casual quality once again. “I didn’t actually kill them, you know?” He watched her, waiting for her reaction.

She wasn’t sure she should rise to his bait, but his cryptic explanations were wearing thin. And curiosity was a powerful emotion. He had no way of knowing that she could recognize the lie he spoke. “I don’t believe you,” she stated flatly.

“It’s true. Or at least it was true. He was the one who killed them,” he said, alluding to his partnership again. “I would find them and bring them to him. That was the part I loved, the hunt. That was the part that did it for me. After that, at least until it was time to dispose of the bodies, they were his problem.” He said it as if the girls themselves were insignificant. And Violet believed that, to him at least, they were. Their lives meant nothing to him; they were simply quarry to track, useless once captured.

It suddenly made sense to her, why the other man had carried so many echoes on him, like a patchwork coat he wore all around him. She hadn’t wondered before, but if she would have had time to process it, to think it through, she would have noticed it. That this man, the cop in front of her now, carried only one shrill echo.

So whose echo was it?

It was a question she couldn’t ask.

But she didn’t have to; he answered anyway.

“They’ll never find her, you know, the girl they were searching for out in the woods.” He smiled again, only slightly, and it made Violet’s skin crawl as she studied him. “I was always so careful, dumping each of them in different locations, in different ways. Never the same place twice.

“But not this time, not her. She was my first kill, and this time they’ll have no idea to look for her in the exact same spot where they found my partner, standing guard over the McDonald girl.” His smile grew, revealing a flash of glistening white teeth. “And they’ll never find you either.”