by Whitley Cox
Through meditation and long, open talks with Jean-Phillipe, Violet came to forgive her mother. She’d harbored a lot of resentment toward her at first, but now she just felt sorry for her. Sorry that her dreams had not become a reality and she was forced to watch her daughter live them instead, experiencing them vicariously and from the sidelines. That would be hard on anyone.
Violet hadn’t meditated since the day of her and Jean-Phillipe’s final performance, which was the night he collapsed on stage. She hadn’t shut out the world, pushed out the negativity and dug down deep inside herself in far too long, and she knew that it was something she’d been missing. Something she needed.
Ordinarily, on Saturdays she would have back-to-back morning classes, but because it was the Independence Day long weekend, she canceled classes and closed the studio. So mere hours before their performance at the park, she and Tulip opened up the studio, kept the lights off and sat down to meditate.
The police had finally gotten back to her yesterday, and unfortunately, their news was grim. They had no way of telling who the letter with the ominous picture and X over Violet’s face had come from, and the number that had called her twice had come from a burner phone. They were no closer to finding out who her creepy stalker was than they had been a few weeks ago.
She’d made sure to lock the door behind her when she entered the studio and even double-checked the emergency door out back. She perused every room to make sure they were empty. She was alone. Just Violet and her thoughts. And there were certainly enough of them to keep her company. Oh and Tulip too, of course.
She must have either dozed off our zoned out, because by the time she opened her eyes again, over an hour had passed. The clock said nearly two o’clock. They performed at five.
She’d been sitting on the floor in one position for so long, she needed to stretch, get limber and ready for the show. She wandered over to the stereo to find something gentle when the sound of someone knocking on the front door rattled her.
Adam?
If so, he was early. She had also told him she would just meet him at the park.
She wandered out to the waiting room, where she could see a woman in a siren-red lacy summer dress and white flats standing on the other side of the glass door. Her gray eyes were fiercely serious, and there was no smile on her face.
“We’re closed,” Violet said, loud enough she knew the woman heard her.
“Are you Violet Benson?” she asked, pointing at the door handle, wanting Violet to open the door.
Violet nodded but didn’t unlock the door. “I am, yes.”
She had her dark hair up in a ponytail and minimal makeup. “I’m Gigi, and I write for an online performing arts magazine. I was wondering if you had a few moments for an interview?”
Interviews. Right. Violet forgot about this part of being a performer. The press.
It had been so much easier when she and Jean-Phillipe were interviewed together. His charisma always drew the interviewer’s attention away from her bumbling awkwardness. She hated when they put her on the spot and asked weird questions.
If you could dance with any vegetable, which vegetable would you dance with and why?
Huh? What the hell kind of question was that?
“Please?” Gigi asked again, forcing her mouth into a big, toothy smile. “It’ll just take a moment.”
With a big sigh and a hidden eye roll, Violet unlocked the door and let the woman enter. Once she was inside, Gigi immediately stuck out her hand and waited for Violet to take it. Violet slowly shook her hand.
Although the woman seemed normal enough, there was something slightly off about her. She had an edge to her, a disconcerting glint in her steely gray eyes, and it immediately put Violet on edge.
It must have put Tulip on edge too, because the clickity-clack of her nails on the wood floor announced her lazy dog’s presence.
“I won’t take up too much of your time,” Gigi went on. “But I’ve followed your work for a while now and am a huge fan.”
Even the way she said huge was odd. As if she were mocking herself.
Very strange.
Violet wandered back into the studio. It was where she was most comfortable. Gigi followed her. Tulip followed them.
“Nice dog,” Gigi said, sticking her hand out for Tulip to sniff.
Tulip growled.
Gigi’s eyes went wide, and she looked up to Violet. “Is she vicious?”
Violet shrugged. “I only just got her. So far, I haven’t witnessed a vicious bone in her body. Never heard her growl like that though.”
Gigi’s jaw flexed and her she cleared her throat. “Well, I love dogs. She has nothing to worry about.”
Violet clicked her tongue, and Tulip immediately came to sit down next to Violet’s leg. “It’s okay, baby.”
Gigi let out an exhale and lifted her eyes back up to Violet’s. “So can I interview you?”
Violet was about to change her mind. She really wasn’t into talking to anyone at the moment. She wanted to get back to her stretching and meditating, but Gigi spoke before Violet could ask her to leave. “I know you’re performing at the Seattle Arts Council Art in the Park exhibition this afternoon. I can’t wait to see you perform.”
Violet squinted. “Yes, I am. It’ll be my first performance in front of an audience in over two years. I’m actually quite nervous.”
“Could I ask you a few questions?” Gigi asked again, desperation coloring her tone.
Reluctantly, Violet nodded. “I only have a few minutes, but sure.” She regretted opening the door for this woman, but she just couldn’t figure out why.
Gigi smiled again, but it wasn’t an easygoing smile. No. It was forced and almost … predatory. “Great.” She got out a digital voice recorder and pressed play. “What was it like dancing with Jean-Phillipe Laurent?”
Violet stilled. “Excuse me?”
“What was it like dancing with Jean-Phillipe Laurent?” she repeated. “The most incredible performer of our time. What was it like? Was it magical? Was it life-changing? You two were together, right? What was it like dancing with a man like Monsieur Laurent?”
“Um … ”
Now she was wishing Gigi was asking her which vegetable she’d rather dance with. Her answer would have been a broccoli.
Her heart palpitations grew more and more wild in her chest, and her palms were clammy. “It … it was wonderful. He was my partner in every way. I loved him. I miss him every day.”
Something flashed in Gigi’s eyes. “Do you think you did enough to try to save him? His death shook the entire dancing community, not only here in America, but globally. Don’t you think you should have taken him to the doctor sooner? Perhaps he would still be alive if you’d recognized the signs of his pain sooner? Don’t you think?”
Whoa! Wait. What?
Violet’s whole body began to shake. “Um … what kind of questions are these?”
The gray of Gigi’s eyes turned dark, the sky before a harsh winter storm. “Do you not think it’s an insult to Monsieur Laurent to take on a new dance partner? Particularly when you could have done more to save his life? Do you agree with the rumors?”
“I … ” Tears marred Violet’s vision. “Who are you? What rumors?”
“That you knew Jean-Phillipe was in pain but convinced him it was in his head and that you needed him to dance with you despite how much it hurt him?
“What? No. Never. I told him to go and get help, to go to a doctor for months. I booked him appointments with every specialist available. I told him to let his understudy dance, but he wouldn’t listen. He said he couldn’t bear to see another man dance with me.”
Gigi rolled her eyes and bared her teeth in a smile so vicious, Violet’s entire body went ice cold. “You say that, but we all know it’s a lie. You killed him.”
Tulip began to whimper next to Violet and pushed up on to her hind feet, her front paws resting on Violet’s hip. Her eyes mimicked the sadness and c
onfusion in Violet’s heart.
Then it hit her. The weird phone calls, the bizarre mail. Had those been from Gigi? Had she been stalking Violet? Haunting her?
“The mail … the phone calls?” Violet’s voice shook. Why was this woman tormenting her?
The acknowledgment in Gigi’s eyes was the only confirmation she needed.
“Why?”
Tulip dropped back down to all fours and faced Gigi, another growl rumbling at the back of her throat.
A hot tear slipped down Violet’s cheek. Who was this monster?
Tulip barked at Gigi and bared her teeth, the hair on her back lifting up and her head dropping low.
Gigi’s hard, steely eyes flicked down to Tulip, and she took a step back.
“Who are you?” Violet asked again, the tears were now flowing freely down her cheeks and into her mouth. “Why are you here? Why are you doing this?”
“I had to see for myself the woman who killed him. You disappeared after he died, but I knew I’d find you again.” Gigi took another step back toward the door when Tulip began to prowl forward. But she wasn’t backing down. The woman had obviously come here with the sole mission to hurt Violet, and she wasn’t finished. She shook her head. “You didn’t deserve him. I would have made him ten times happier. I would have saved him.”
Tulip barked again.
It would kill me to watch you dance with another man.
Oh God. Had she killed him? Had she missed some sign? Should she have pushed him harder to get the tests sooner? Was it her fault he was dead?
“You killed him,” Gigi said. “You and your obsession with perfection and the spotlight. You killed Jean-Phillipe!”
“Get out,” Violet whispered, her whole body vibrating with not only agony from Gigi’s words, but from the anger of this woman coming to her to inflict so much pain.
Tears welled up in Gigi’s eyes. “You’re the reason he’s dead!”
“Get out!” Violet screamed. “Get out!”
“How could you have not seen that he was in pain? How could you have not known? If he was the love of your life you should have known!” Fury and grief surrounded Gigi like a dark red cloud. Her eyes darted across Violet’s face as black tears from her mascara made tracks down her mottled pink cheeks. “You killed him!”
Tulip’s barks became louder and more frequent, then she lunged, chasing Gigi to the corner of the room, where she bared her teeth and snarled at the woman, snapping her teeth and making Gigi cry out for help.
“Call this beast off!” she demanded, lifting one leg up as Tulip continued to smack her jaws. “Fucking call her off.”
23
Adam paced the grass in Magnolia Park.
Where was Violet?
“She’ll be here,” Mitch said, sitting with Jayda in his lap. “Dude, you’re going to wear a trench in the sod. Sit down.”
Adam scrubbed his hand over his face and wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead. Even in the small amount of shade they’d managed to find, it was a hot-ass day.
He couldn’t get rid of the unease that bogged down his train of thought. Was Violet in trouble? She’d told him that the cops had zero leads on who was calling her or who had sent that weird letter in the mail.
Was she in danger? Was there someone out there who had it in for Violet?
Mira, Paige and Paige’s parents were on their way. Paige had texted moments earlier to let him know they were just looking for parking, but Violet had planned to be there ages ago. She said she was always way too early for a performance because New York traffic had taught her to always expect the unexpected, and if you were late, you were dead.
“Hey!”
Adam spun around, even though he knew it wasn’t Violet. The voice was too deep.
Liam flashed a big smile and tossed down a blanket and a big cooler. He was holding his son, Jordan’s, hand. The little guy was decked out in all UV-protective clothing.
“Afraid of the sun much?” Mitch asked with a chuckle, motioning to Jordan’s giant UV protective hat with sharks on it and his wrist-to-ankle gear.
Liam rolled his eyes and plopped his butt down on the blanket. “My ex is paranoid. She’d bubble-wrap the kid if she could.”
Soon over half a dozen of The Single Dads of Seattle were sprawled out on blankets with their children running around them playing. Snacks were out and beer was in cozies as a local rock band played up on the stage.
Adam hung up his phone for the umpteenth time. Once again there was no answer. Violet was not picking up.
“I’m going to go find her,” he said. “This is not normal. This isn’t like her.” He fixed his gaze on Mitch. “It isn’t, right? She’s not the type to just stop answering her phone or blow off a performance.”
Mitch shook his head, concern flooding his blue eyes. “She’s the most responsible and responsive person I know. Something’s up.”
Fuck. He knew it. Something wasn’t right.
Mitch grabbed his phone from his back pocket, and his thumb flew across the screen. “Her phone has her at the studio.”
“But she’s not picking up?”
“Maybe it died. Maybe she’s waiting for it to charge before she comes.”
No, that wasn’t it. Something was wrong. He just knew it. He felt it at the base of his skull, like a claw, slowly digging in its jagged nails. Violet should have been there by now. She was in trouble.
“I’m going to go to the studio,” he said, worry choking his voice. “See if everything is okay.”
“Well, you better run there, because traffic is a fucking shit show,” Liam put in. “We had to park like ten blocks away. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a goddamn ticket when I get back because I parked in a residential only parking.”
Scott, Liam’s brother, slapped him on the back. “Good thing you’re a professional arguer and will just plead your case until they drop the charge solely to get you to shut the fuck up.”
Liam grinned. “Being a lawyer has to have some perks.”
Adam’s whole body was already hot from having stood up and out of the shade. He glanced down at Mitch. “Okay, well, if we’re not back in half an hour, stall or something. Or go find Sarah and have her rearrange the lineup.”
Mitch nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
Adam took off at a run, weaving his way through the throng of celebrators and patriots who were all enjoying a beautiful Independence Day in the sun.
About fifteen minutes later, soaked in sweat and ready to pass out, he arrived at the studio. Violet’s car was out front.
That was a good sign.
He grabbed the door handle, expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t.
That was not a good sign.
Had someone busted in and hurt Violet?
Had she been kidnapped?
No more Liam Neeson movies before bed. Your brain starts going wonky.
“Violet!” he called out, flinging the door open. The bell chimed, and seconds later Tulip wandered out of the studio, her tail wagging frantically as she spotted him. He had no time to appreciate the air-conditioning or the way it made his body shiver as the cool air hit his sweat-soaked skin. He was too hell-bent on finding Violet. Tulip loped over to him and put her front paws on his thighs. He patted her head. “Where’s Violet, Tulip?”
As if she truly understood what he asked, she turned around and headed in the direction of the studio. He followed her only to come face to face with a woman. A woman that wasn’t Violet.
“Oh, hello,” he said in confusion. “Who are you?”
Fear and rage battled for top ranking on her face. “Getting the fuck out of here,” she said, rage winning out and poison lacing every word.
But it looked like Tulip had other ideas and was suddenly standing in front of the door, her front legs bent and the fur on the back of her neck standing straight up. She was growling and snarling at the woman.
“Tulip?” Adam asked in confusion, walking over to grab the dog’s co
llar. “What’s up, girl?”
“That dog is a fucking psycho,” the woman said, flicking her dark ponytail over her shoulder. “Should be put down.”
“I’m inclined to disagree,” he said warily, not ready to let this woman leave. He still had no idea if Violet was okay. “Tulip is one of the most loyal and gentlest souls I’ve ever met. She also likes everyone. So if she doesn’t like you, I have to wonder why.”
The woman’s gray eyes flashed white-hot fire. “Fucking move.”
He didn’t budge. “Where’s Violet?”
“Fuck if I care.”
Fear wormed its way through his veins. Where was Violet?
“Adam?” Violet’s voice from inside the studio had him moving away from the door. But Tulip remained blocking the other woman from leaving.
Adam didn’t care.
“Oh thank God,” he breathed the moment he saw the top of Violet’s head, her back against the mirror. She was slumped down on her butt, her body curled into a ball. Her forehead rested on her knees, and her arms were wrapped around her legs as her entire body shook.
At least she was safe. But she sure as hell wasn’t okay.
With long, determined strides, he was at her side, then down on his knees, his hand on her back. “Vi, baby? What’s wrong?” Adam rubbed Violet’s back. “Baby, I can’t help you if I don’t know what happened. Are you okay?”
Slowly, she lifted her head.
The look on her face broke his heart.
Her eyes brimmed with tears, and her face was a blotchy red. She looked like she’d been crying for a while.
He wiped away a few tears from her cheek with the pad of his thumb, but more just dripped in their place.
“Vi, what happened? Who is that woman?”
“Call off your fucking dog!”
“Get out!” Violet screamed. “Get out! Get out! Get out!
What the hell?
He faced the studio door, where the intruder and Tulip were having a standoff by the front door. “Can you come back in here, please?” he called out. “If Tulip follows you, then I can grab her collar again.”
