The Body Finder

CHAPTER 28

VIOLET’S ARMS WERE ACHING FROM TRYING TO keep up with him, but she refused to complain or even to slow down. His strong, calloused hand was wrapped tightly around the back of her neck, a warning to her of how fragile she was, how easily he could end her life should she try to get away from him at any point. She had a hard time imagining just how he thought she might escape, given the fact that she could barely walk, let alone outmaneuver him. But she kept her opinions to herself.

They were alone out here, in the long deserted hallway, heading toward the doors that led to the faculty parking lot. She could still hear the distant music, seemingly farther now and fading fast, in the background of her distressed thoughts.

She was worried, not about if she would die, as it seemed a certainty at this point. And although Violet had never been particularly afraid of death itself, she was worried about how it was going to happen. She prayed he would do it quickly, without making her suffer too much.

The other thought that haunted her in these last moments of her life, the one that bothered her even more than dying, was the idea that this monster, this madman, would wear her imprint on him for the rest of his life. Maybe longer.

The very idea made her feel physically ill, as she imagined sharing any part of her life’s essence with him.

At first she thought she’d imagined it, the voice she heard coming from the other end of the hallway, from behind them. But it was too real, too perfectly beautiful, to be imagined. The moment her name was spoken, and she recognized who it was, her eyes began to tear up painfully.

It can’t be him! Violet thought. Anyone but him!

“Violet?” His familiar voice was filled with confusion as he called out to her.

The hand around her neck tightened, and Violet followed the tactile cue and stopped. The grip was a threat in itself. They turned around in unison, the unbearably strong fingers never leaving the tender, already bruised flesh around her neck.

Facing Jay in person was nearly too much for Violet right now. She felt her frail heart splintering into a million lifeless shards.

He said her name again. “Vi?” He glanced up curiously at the man escorting her, and he visibly relaxed a little. “What’s going on? I was so worried… I thought something might have happened to you.” He waited for one of them to speak, and then he asked the obvious. “Where are you going?”

Silence ensued-the kind of void-filling silence that yawns endlessly until it becomes virtually impenetrable.

Violet wanted to build a bridge across the quiet chasm, but she couldn’t find the words. They felt lodged behind the aching lump in her throat. She struggled with herself not to cry.

Suddenly the presence of the cop was not enough to make Jay feel secure. His posture stiffened, and he took a threatening step forward, his mouth set in a determined line. “What’s going on?” he demanded this time.

Violet felt the iron grip squeezing forcefully, and she knew what was expected of her. Her mind raced, as she tried to think of something-anything-that would make Jay leave now.

“We…we’re just…” She hated the way she stammered, and she ordered herself to get a grip. She wasn’t saving herself here…she was trying to save Jay. She started again. “I asked the officer here”-she glanced up pleadingly at the rock-solid man beside her-“to take me to his car so I could call my uncle. My dad said he’d kill me if I didn’t check in at least once.”

Jay stood his ground. He knew she was lying to him, and Violet wanted to scream at him to just go away. “Here,” he challenged, lifting her purse out to her and eyeing the officer’s hand around the back of her neck. “You can use your cell phone.”

She shook her head, no small feat with the jawlike grip squeezing her. “No, I need to use his phone.” Her voice had taken on a pleading quality, and she begged him with her eyes to believe what she was saying. She was losing her tentative grasp on the situation, and she didn’t want Jay to get hurt. “Please, Jay, just go back to the dance. I’ll be there soon.” Her words broke, and she felt herself struggling to keep her composure. This wasn’t the time to fall apart.

Jay took another calculated step forward, and the punishing fingers dug deeper into Violet’s skin, biting at her fiercely. She winced. She didn’t mean to, but the pain was so intense that it happened reflexively. There was nothing she could do to stop it.

That was all it took. That one nearly imperceptible recoil on her part, and Jay lunged forward. “Get your hands off her!” he yelled, his voice unmistakably filled with rage.

Violet couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She hadn’t wanted this; she simply wanted to disappear into the night, with this man she knew would kill her, and silently vanish. Forever.

That way no one else would get hurt.

She felt her neck jerk forward as the giant hand released her, shoving her away. If it hadn’t been for the support of her crutches she would have toppled over.

Jay was already swinging his fist wide and hard, hitting the man who’d been holding her captive. His fist connected solidly against the man’s jaw, and the officer’s head snapped hard to the side from the impact. Violet felt a surge of hope blossom within her.

And then it incinerated into white-hot ash.

The officer remained upright, almost insultingly so, as if he’d never been struck at all. He sneered at Jay, his face hideously masked with contempt for the younger man. “You stupid little punk! You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” He approached Jay now.

She knew what he was going to do. She knew that now, like her, Jay had no chance of getting out of there alive.

She reacted without thinking.

Violet watched the arc of the metal crutch swinging widely before thudding sickeningly against the side of the cop’s head. A metal wing nut, holding a long, pinlike bolt, struck his temple, gouging him deeply. He never saw it coming, and the force of the blow carried more weight than she would have thought possible, and she watched as he staggered sideways.

She saw him hit the ground. Everything seemed to happen so fast, and so slowly, all at the same time. The look on his face was that of complete surprise as he struggled to process what had just happened to him. Her ankle throbbed from the leverage she’d used to hit him with the crutch, but somehow she ignored the pain.

She couldn’t think fast enough, but Jay was already grabbing her by the arm and dragging her down the hallway, back in the direction of the dance. But they were so far away, and every time Violet’s foot hit the ground, fresh pain radiated up cripplingly from her ankle to her hip, nearly incapacitating her. He did his best to hold her up, pulling her against him, with his arm anchoring her around her waist, but she was lagging now…slowing him down.

They didn’t look back.

And they didn’t get far before the pain was more than she could bear. She slumped against him. “Jay, go get help,” she whispered sadly. “You’ll get there a lot faster without me.”

“No way.” He pulled her up again, dragging her into his arms so he could carry her.

“Don’t, Jay,” she insisted, crying now and struggling to make him set her down again. “You’ll never make it with me. Please…just go!”

But there was no answer to give…because neither of them was going anywhere.

Violet felt the massive jolt jarring Jay from behind, and then she was falling…flying nearly, through the air. She landed with a dull, skidding thud against the industrial tiling of the school’s vacant hallway. The sounds she heard bouncing off the walls around her were those of defeat.

She glanced up, trying to ignore the bright sting from her injuries. She scrambled to turn around, despite her own physical discomfort, to see what was happening behind her.

She heard it before she could see it.

The soft click. The menacingly quiet sound that made her throat constrict painfully.

Jay, who was lying facedown, had heard it too, and he slowly, warily, rolled over onto his back…careful not to make any sudden movements. He put up his hands cautiously, palms out and fingers spread, letting the huge man standing above him know that he was surrendering. That he was defeated.

The gun was all Violet could see now. It was black, and from her position it looked like it could have been a child’s plastic toy. But Violet knew better. This was not a toy that he expertly handled. And it was pointed directly at Jay.

The man holding it was bleeding; rivulets of oozing red blood trickled down the side of his face. He seemed somewhat off balance, and he staggered a little, probably from the blow he’d taken to the side of his head…but his aim looked perfect. Dead-on.

Violet could only whimper as she watched. “No! Please, God, no!” And then she was crying, “You don’t need him. He can’t hurt you. Please…” She crawled forward, meaning to block Jay, but she was moving too slowly. She felt like she was progressing in slow motion, like a bad dream where her feet were too heavy to make any real headway. She looked up at the man, and when she saw the look in his eyes, she realized that she was too late.

The sound of the gun was like a deafening crack, and Violet instinctively flinched, closing her eyes, her hands covering her ears at the same time that she started to scream. She heard a second shot immediately follow the first.

She opened her eyes just long enough to see the blood. Everywhere…blood. And she squeezed them tight again, unable to look. She knew she was still screaming, but she couldn’t hear anything aside from the internal ringing that seemed to fill her head.

But her mouth was suddenly filled with the strangest sensation…the taste of dandelions. It was the bitterly familiar taste of childhood, of picking the weeds to make a yellow bouquet, and then later, when you put a finger in your mouth, you could still taste the caustic flavor of the dandelion milk clinging to your skin. Her tongue recoiled.

Violet realized, while she was being peeled up from the floor by strong hands, that the taste had nothing to do with picking flowers.

It was an echo.

A brand-new echo.