The Body Finder

CHAPTER 1

THE SOUND OF THE ALARM CLOCK WAS AN irritating intrusion into the comfortable haze of sleep that wrapped its arms around Violet. She dragged her hand out from beneath the warm cocoon of blankets to hit the snooze button. She kept her eyes closed; trying to let the haze reclaim her, but the damage had already been done. She was awake now.

She sighed, still not ready to untangle herself from the covers, and she tried to recall what she had been dreaming about before being so rudely interrupted. For a moment, she thought she might remember, but the elusive whisper of her dream escaped her.

She made a disgusted sound to herself as she finally threw off the blankets and sat up in one not-so-smooth motion. She turned off her clock before it could reach its nine-minute snooze interval.

This was the third day of school, and she didn’t want to start her junior year with a tardy slip. She rubbed her face with both hands, trying to stimulate the flow of blood in an effort to stay alert. She wasn’t much of a morning person.

She stumbled through most of her before-school routine; showering, brushing her teeth, dressing. After scrutinizing herself in the mirror and noting the dark circles beneath her eyes, she once again thought about how badly she wanted to crawl back beneath the mound of already cooling blankets that covered her bed like an inviting nest.

She pulled her hair into a messy ponytail-the only kind of ponytail that her unruly curls allowed-before grabbing her backpack off the floor. She hated it when adults told her how lucky she was to have such gorgeous, natural curls, when she wanted nothing more than to blend in with the sea of shiny, flat-ironed, stick-straight hair with which every girl in her school seemed to have been blessed.

But what did she expect? Life didn’t seem to want her to blend like everyone else.

After all, how many girls had inherited the ability to locate the dead, or at least those who had been murdered? How many little girls had spent hours of their childhood scouring the woods in search of dead animals left behind by feral predators? How many had created their own personal cemeteries in their backyards to bury the carnage they’d found, so the little souls could rest in peace?

And how many eight-year-olds had been drawn to discover the body of a dead girl?

No, Violet was definitely different.

She brushed aside the disturbing thoughts and hurried out the door, crossing her fingers, like she did every morning, that her ancient little car would sputter to life when she tried to start it.

Her car.

Her father called it a “classic.”

She wasn’t quite so kind in her description of the small 1988 Honda Civic, with its original factory paint that was fading after years of being battered by the rainy Washington weather.

She called it dilapidated.

Reliable, her father would argue back. And Violet couldn’t entirely disagree. So far, despite its morning protests and groans-so much like her own-her Honda had never been the cause of one of her (many) late slips.

Today was no different. The car coughed and spewed when she turned the ignition, but the engine caught on the first attempt and, after a few coaxing moments, the sound turned to something closer to its usual not-so-quiet grumbling.

Violet had just one stop to make on her way to school, the same stop she’d made every day since getting her license six months earlier. To pick up her best friend, Jay Heaton.

Best friend. The expression seemed so foreign now, like an old, comfortable sneaker that once practically molded to your foot but now strained against each step you took because it no longer fit.

The summer had changed things…too many things for Violet’s liking.

She and Jay had been best friends since they were six years old, when in the first grade Jay had moved to Buckley. It was the day that Violet dared him to kiss Chelsea Morrison at recess, telling him she’d be his best friend if he did. Of course Chelsea had pushed him down for doing it, which Violet had known would happen, and all three of them were hauled into the principal’s office for a discussion about “personal boundaries.”

But Violet was true to her word, and she and Jay had been inseparable ever since.

In the first grade, they’d played tag on the playground, always ganging up on the other kids to make someone else “it” in order to avoid playing against each other. In second grade, they moved on to the jungle gym, choosing teams and using the tunnels as makeshift forts to defend against their enemies. By third grade, they’d learned to play four square and wall ball. Fourth, tetherball. And fifth was the year they discovered the giant boulder at the edge of the playing field, behind which the recess teacher couldn’t see what was happening.

It was the year of their first kiss-or kisses, rather-their one and only foray into romance with each other. They tried it once with their lips closed tightly, a small quick peck, and then again, they tried it by touching their tongues together. The sensation was slippery, supple, and foreign. They both immediately agreed that it was gross and swore they would never do it again.

By middle school, their parents, who had become something like chauffeurs, ferrying the two of them almost daily across the mile-long distance that separated their homes, had resigned, maintaining that if Violet and Jay really wanted to see each other, then the exercise would do them good.

But neither of them minded the walk. They had spent years of their childhoods combing through the forested areas that surrounded both of their homes, as they explored and built clubhouses out of old timber. They had mapped and named entire sections of the woods, several of them after themselves or unusual arrangements of their combined names. Things like “Jaylet Stream”…“Amberton Woods”…“Hebrose Trail.”

They also named the makeshift graveyard behind Violet’s house, using neither of their names, simply calling it Shady Acres.

They were ten at the time, and the name sounded ominous and dark…which was exactly what they were going for. They would dare one another to go out there, to see who could wait alone, until well after darkness had fallen, telling each other tales of the strange occurrences they were sure must be happening out there…especially at night.

Violet always won, and Jay never complained that she did. He seemed to understand that she wasn’t afraid, even when she pretended to be.

He understood a lot of things. He was the only person, besides her parents, and her aunt and uncle, who knew about her strange penchant for seeking out ravaged animals, and her need to rebury them within the safe chicken-wire enclosure of Shady Acres. It had been an adventure that they’d shared together, combing through fern groves and blackberry thickets in search of the lost bodies. He’d even helped her build little crosses and headstones to mark the tiny graves.

Before they were buried, before they were properly laid to rest, those animals left behind would call out to Violet. They would emit an energy-a sensory echo-in the wake of their murder, like a beacon that only she could find, letting her know where they’d been discarded. It could be anything…a smell, a burst of color, a taste in the back of her mouth, or a combination of several sensations at once.

She didn’t know how…or why…It just happened.

But what she did know, what she’d learned early on, was that once she placed them in her graveyard, they no longer called out to her. She still felt them, but it was different. She was able to filter them out, until they became nothing more than the comforting static of white noise.

Jay also understood the need to keep Violet’s secret, even though he’d never been told to. He seemed to sense, even from an early age, that he needed to keep that secret close to him, like a treasure he protected, saving it just for the two of them. He’d always made Violet feel safe and secure…and even normal.

So why, then, had everything changed so suddenly?

Already, as her car sputtered down his driveway, with gravel crunching beneath the tires, her heart rate was racing within the suddenly too-confined space of her chest.

This is ridiculous, she chided herself. He’s your best friend!

She saw the front door opening even before she slowed to a complete stop. Jay was yanking his hooded sweatshirt over his head, dragging his backpack in his wake. He yelled something into the house, probably telling his mom that he was leaving for school, and he pulled the door shut behind him.

It was the same thing every day. There was nothing different from yesterday and the day before that. Nothing different from every single day since they’d met.

Except that now her stomach climbed into her throat as he grinned his stupid sideways grin at her and slid into the car.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

She smiled back, willing her reckless pulse to slow down. “Ready?”

“No, but do we have a choice?” His voice, which had gotten deeper over the summer, was still so well-known to her, so comfortable, that she immediately relaxed.

“Not if you don’t want a tardy.” She backed out of the driveway, barely glancing in her rearview mirror to watch where she was going. His driveway was almost as familiar to her as her own.

She hated these new, unknown feelings that seemed to assault her whenever he was around, and sometimes even when he was only in her thoughts. She felt like she was no longer in control of her own body, and her traitorous reactions were only slightly more embarrassing than her treacherous thoughts.

She was starting to feel like he was toxic to her.

That, or she was seriously losing her mind, because that was the only way she could possibly explain the ridiculous butterflies she got whenever Jay was close to her. And what really irritated Violet was that he seemed to be completely oblivious of these new, and completely insane, reactions she was having to him. Obviously, whatever she had wasn’t contagious.

Except that it was. She wasn’t the only one that seemed to be noticing him. She almost dreaded the moment they’d step out from the relative peace of her noisy old Honda in the school’s overcrowded parking lot. Because that’s when the real games began.

Day three of school, but as of day one, girls had begun to wait for them to arrive in the morning.

No, not for them…for him.

His new fan club, Violet thought sourly. Girls who had known Jay since the first day of his first-grade year. Girls who had never paid him so much as a second glance before now. Girls who seemed to notice the not-so-subtle changes that had taken place over the last two and a half months they’d spent away from school.

Girls like her.

Stop it! she silently screamed at herself.

She slid a sideways glance in his direction, trying to figure out just what it was that was making her so…so painfully self-conscious all of a sudden.

He was looking right at her. Grinning. A big, stupid, self-satisfied grin, as if he had been eavesdropping on her all-too-embarrassing thoughts.

“What?” She tried to defend herself, wishing she’d never looked his way as she felt her cheeks burning with shame. “What?” she asked again when he just laughed at her.

“Were you planning to ditch school today, or should we turn around?”

She looked up and realized that she’d just driven past the road that led to the school. “Why didn’t you say something?” she accused as she pulled a quick, and probably illegal, U-turn. The tops of her ears felt like they were on fire now.

“I just wanted to see where you were heading.” He shrugged. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t skip school. You just have to ask me first.” His new grown-up voice seemed to fill all the space of the small car, and Violet found even that annoying.

“Shut up,” she insisted, even though she couldn’t help smiling now too. She couldn’t believe she’d passed the entrance to her own school. “Now we really are going to be late.”

By the time she found a parking spot in the student lot, there were only two die-hard “Jay fans” left waiting for them. Or rather, for him, Violet corrected herself again.

She couldn’t help but wonder how many others had already given up their watchful post in favor of not visiting the attendance office before school started today.

Violet decided not to wait around to watch the flirt-fest begin. She was already half running, with her backpack slung over her shoulder, as she bolted from her car. “See you in second period!” she yelled back to Jay, consciously deciding that this was better anyway. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to watch him with the two girls, who practically assaulted him as he got out of the car.

She dashed through the door to her first class just as the bell sounded.

Made it! she congratulated herself. Three days down and no tardy slips.

Just one hundred and seventy-seven to go.

By the time second period rolled around, Violet was already convincing herself that whatever it was she thought she’d been feeling, whatever plagued her ill-advised subconscious, was just an illusion of some sort. It was all smoke and mirrors. A trick of the mind.

And then he sauntered in and fell into the chair beside her, his new size making his desk look like something from a doll-house. Violet half expected the chair to buckle beneath him.

“Hey, Vi. Glad to see you decided to stay at school after all.” He punched her in the arm playfully.

Her heart somersaulted painfully.

Violet sighed. “Ha-ha,” she retorted without a trace of humor.

Jay’s brow furrowed, but before he could ask her what was wrong, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “I almost forgot. Check it out.” He held out the paper so she could grab it from him.

She unfolded it and tried to smooth it out a little so she could read it. As it turned out she didn’t need to bother; she would have been able to read the unmistakably feminine handwriting if the paper had been on fire.

It was a phone number. For Jay. From Elisabeth Adams, only the most popular girl in the school. She was the odds-on favorite to be Homecoming Queen this year, and most likely Prom Queen too. She was tan, blonde, pretty, and a senior. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she also had the shiny, straight hair that Violet could only dream of.

This sucked.

Violet tried not to look too deer-in-the-headlights when she glanced back at him. “Wow” was all she could think of.

“I know.” Jay seemed as surprised as she was but still managed to appear pretty impressed with himself all the same. “She must have slid it into my locker while I was in first period.”

“You gonna call her?” Violet was careful not to sound petulant, but she certainly felt that way. She just wanted to be his friend again, to not care about whether he called this girl or not. She wanted to listen to the gory details and ask him probing questions that would eventually have them off on some random tangent and laughing at their own stupid, private jokes. But somehow, she just couldn’t.

She felt deflated as she handed the note back to him.

The bell, and then the teacher, interrupted before Jay could answer her not-so-innocent question. Jay took the note and stuffed it into his binder as trig class got under way.

Violet tried to concentrate on sines and cosines as she took notes on everything the teacher wrote on the white-board in the front of the classroom, but she heard nothing. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she was going to get over this…this thing she had for her very best friend in the whole world.

And she had to get over it…soon. Because if she didn’t, if she couldn’t stop feeling so viral toward him, eventually it would infect their friendship, and there would be nothing she could do to stop it. She knew she couldn’t let that happen.

He was Jay. He was the best person she’d ever known, and she couldn’t imagine losing him.

She allowed herself to look his way, pretending she was glancing at the clock on the wall above the door. He was meticulously lost in the lesson, taking notes well beyond the scope of what was written on the board.

She was grateful that at least one of them was listening, because she knew he was going to have to explain it all to her later.

And he would, without ever knowing that he was the reason she hadn’t heard a word of the lesson.

Violet avoided Jay at lunch-a first for her-opting instead to linger in her third-period English class under the pretext of finishing up some homework-homework that wasn’t actually due until the beginning of the next week. She managed to put off leaving the classroom for almost twenty minutes.

Then she wandered to the bathroom, not really the kind of place anyone wanted to “hang out,” by any stretch of the imagination. But she took her time, washing her hands, redoing her ponytail, which didn’t really improve the second time around, and then washing her hands again.

Other girls-some she knew and some she didn’t-came and went while she was in there, primping and gossiping as they stood in front of the mirrors.

Violet took her cue from them and even put on lip gloss, which she almost never did. She had to dig into the bottom of her backpack just to find some.

When Chelsea walked in, Violet was actually relieved to see someone she could talk to, even if it was only for a few minutes.

“Where have you been?” Chelsea accused in her usual blunt tone. “Jay’s been looking for you everywhere.” She perched in front of the mirror and began the familiar ritual of preening, starting at her hair and working her way down.

Like Jay, Chelsea had changed over the summer. Not so much developmentally-she’d already had the woman’s body-but somehow she’d discovered her femininity overnight. Chelsea had always been sort of tomboy-ish and athletic. But it was as if she now recognized that there was more to life than spiking a volleyball into your opponent’s court or pitching a perfect game in fast-pitch softball. She seemed to have finally realized that she was pretty too.

And like every other girl in school, Chelsea had the slick mane that practically gleamed when sunlight reflected off its perfect surface. She had even highlighted her glossy chestnut hair with thin blonde streaks that made her look like she’d spent the summer on a beach in California instead of on a softball diamond.

Next to Jay, Chelsea was Violet’s closest friend. She was the friend it wasn’t weird to have sleepovers with…unlike Jay. And the one she could share clothes with…unlike Jay. And Violet had always liked-and was even a little jealous of- Chelsea ’s tell-it-like-it-is attitude, even when she didn’t necessarily want to hear-it-like-it-was.

Now happened to be one of those times.

“Well?” Chelsea asked when Violet didn’t answer her. “I swear that boy can’t function without you, not even at lunch.”

Violet winced, but Chelsea didn’t see it as she daintily rubbed the corner of her eye with her pinkie finger, making sure that none of her eyeliner had strayed from place. It hadn’t; she looked perfect.

“He’ll be fine.” Violet answered more glumly than she’d intended. “I’m sure someone else would be glad to sit with him.”

Chelsea looked up, finished with her own face, and stared at Violet’s. “Well, it doesn’t really matter. He’s out in the hallway waiting. He asked me to come in here and look for you.”

Violet just stared, and then she laughed. Chelsea might actually be the only girl in school who hadn’t noticed that Jay had changed, possibly because she was too wrapped up in her own transformation to be aware of anyone else’s. Violet was grateful, at least, for small miracles.

When Violet didn’t move, Chelsea grabbed her by the arm and started towing her toward the door. “Come on, before he starves to death and wastes away to nothing.”

“All right, all right,” Violet agreed as they drifted out of the girls’ room to where Jay stood in the hallway, looking relieved to see her safe and sound at last.

Violet couldn’t help feeling comforted to see that expression on his face. Maybe Chelsea was right after all. Maybe Jay couldn’t survive without her.

At least that feeling was mutual, because she couldn’t imagine getting by without him either.

With just five minutes to spare, Violet and her best friend since the first grade had only enough time to raid the vending machines for chips and a candy bar, before rushing off to their fourth-period class.

But it was okay now. Somehow, realizing that he hadn’t outgrown her during his summer metamorphosis made her feel better. She felt secure again, just knowing that she was as important to him as he was to her.

Everything was going to be fine.

PREY

THE RAIN MADE IT EASIER FOR HIM TO GET around unnoticed. Those who sat inside their own cars had their views impaired by rain, foggy auto glass, and windshield wipers. Those outside were too busy trying to stay dry by moving quickly and keeping their heads down. The darkness only helped add to his invisibility.

Unfortunately the rain also kept people indoors.

Of course he was never truly invisible, not in the car he usually drove. It attracted attention and stares wherever he went, even on a dark, wet night like this one.

But tonight was different. Tonight he blended. He had become one of them.

He pulled out of the busy Wal-Mart parking lot in search of smaller, duskier side streets with less traffic and fewer security cameras. As he drove he listened to the methodical beat of the windshield wipers as they swished back and forth…back and forth…back and forth.

Two girls, probably in their early teens, dashed across the painted lines of the crosswalk, arm in arm. They leaned in toward each other, and he could practically hear them giggling over some shared secret. He couldn’t tell if they were pretty or not, but they were young. He watched their hips sway as they hurried to the other side of the road, and he liked seeing the way they moved.

But there were two of them. One more than he needed.

He silently congratulated them on their safe passage. Lucky girls.

He turned off the main highway onto a side street with older, single-story homes, many of which had been converted into businesses as the city grew and zoning laws changed. The increasing traffic had chased the homeowners away. It was dark and deserted at this hour, which was well past the time a small hair salon or a chiropractor’s office would still be open.

He turned again and again. As he drove farther from the highway, the main arterial through town, the roads became more and more narrow, and less and less traveled. Small neighborhood developments began to spring up on either side of him, but the entrances were dark and inactive.

That was when he saw the car. Its hazards flashing through the damp blackness of the night.

He slowed down as he drove past, peering into the interior of the stranded vehicle.

She was alone. Young and pretty, and alone.

This was better than he could have hoped for.

He turned his wheel sharply to the right, parking his own car directly in front of hers. He put on his best nice-guy smile as he got out of his car to see if he could help her.

He approached the vehicle, and he could see the hesitation on her face. She wasn’t sure if she should trust him. Smart girl. But he knew he looked innocent enough, like someone she could count on, and within the space of seconds her instincts failed her.

She rolled down the window, not all the way, but enough so he could talk to her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his practiced voice sounding like soft velvet. If he hadn’t been concentrating he might have laughed at the false sincerity ringing through it.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know. My tire’s flat.”

Very pretty girl, he thought from this close up. But he glanced down, trying to look interested in the tires. The two he could see appeared to be fine.

“Other side,” she said when she saw him looking. She seemed embarrassed then, and the innocent blush on her face made her even more attractive. She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know how to change a tire.”

He glanced around to make sure no one else was coming. The rain was running in small rivers down the back of his neck and soaking his shirt, but he barely noticed.

“Did you call someone?” This was the big question. This was where he found out whether she was the one or not. “Are your parents on their way?”

She didn’t even see the trap she was walking into. Her parents must have warned her about strangers, but they should have prepared her better.

She shook her head, the pink on her cheeks making her look so pure. “I left my cell phone at home,” she admitted.

He thought about that for a moment, making it seem like he wasn’t sure how to proceed, even though her words had already set his plan into action. He tapped the base of the window frame with his fingers as though weighing his options before finally speaking again. “Well, I’m not really equipped to change your tire, but I could give you a lift home.”

Her instincts kicked back in, and he knew from the look that flashed across her lovely face that she wasn’t so sure. Maybe her parents had done a better job than he thought.

He tried to backpedal, to wipe that uncertain look from her face. “My cell phone’s in the car. Is there someone you could call?”

She bit her lip again, chewing nervously. “Yeah. Okay, sure,” she said, flashing him her best you’d-be-doing-me-a-huge-favor smile. It was a smile that girls learned to do from a very young age, and one that she was particularly good at. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

He looked around again, to make sure they were still alone, even though he knew that they were.

He knew how to play this game. He got off on this game. He smiled back at her, trying to look protective and fatherly. “Of course not.” And then he said the words that would win her over once and for all. “If my wife knew I’d left you out here without help, she’d have my hide. Besides, you’re only a couple of years older than our daughter, and I would want someone to help her if she were stranded.”

That was all it took. She was his.

He watched as she unbuckled her seat belt, and he felt a wave of excited electricity jolting through him. He couldn’t believe his luck; she was almost making it too easy; she was going to come right to him.

He stood back as she opened her car door. “Thank you so much for doing this,” she said as she opened up an umbrella over her head. She held it out, offering him shelter beneath it as he led her to the right side of the car. “My parents are going to kill me for forgetting my phone; they’re always nagging me about the importance of planning ahead.”

He looked down at her, thinking about how wise her parents sounded, and he was grateful that she hadn’t taken them too seriously. But again he gave her his protective voice. “They’re right, you know. You can never be too careful.” He opened the passenger-side door and leaned inside.

She was surprised when he came back out without a phone but with something else instead. Her eyes widened in fear as first recognition and then panic dawned across her exquisitely expressive face.

But before she could even scream, he was on her, shoving her hard against the car’s interior and whispering into her ear as he held his hand over her mouth. “Make it easy on yourself. I promise I won’t hurt you.” He needed to make her understand that…it was important to him that she know he wasn’t planning to harm her.

He saw the terror in her eyes as she curled up into a protective ball, shivering and silent as the silver duct tape held her mouth closed.

“I swear to you…I won’t hurt you…” He whispered the words over and over again while he popped the trunk and set her inside gently.

His promise made, he smoothed her hair tenderly with his hand before slamming the trunk shut.

He whistled to himself as he pulled his car back onto the road.

It had been a good night.