Dead Silence

by Kimberly Derting

  “See? Told you so,” Violet insisted.

  Jay handed her one of the Starbucks cups that had been sitting in his console.

  “Wow,” she said, delighting in the feel of the warm cup, and sniffing the small opening in the lid. “This whole stumbling-onto-a-crime-scene thing is really starting to pay off. Last night a present. Now this.” She grinned as she took a sip of the vanilla latte.

  Jay rubbed his jaw nervously. “Yeah, I wasn’t really sure what the protocol for ‘freaked out by dead bodies’ was. You’re not sick, so bringing you soup was out the question. And you didn’t know the people, so giving you flowers seemed wrong.”

  Violet pursed her lips, considering his dilemma. “I see what you mean. Jewelry maybe? Or cash?”

  Jay laughed. “Sorry, just a turtle. And some coffee.” He raised his eyebrows. “But at least I went to Starbucks.”

  Since there wasn’t a real Starbucks in Buckley, Violet knew that meant he’d driven all the way to the next town to get it.

  She shrugged, biting back a grin. “I guess coffee’ll do. Until you find the right diamond, or maybe something designer.”

  Jay started his car. “You’re starting to be sorta high maintenance, Violet Marie.” He backed out of the driveway. “I remember when you were happy if I gave you the better stick to play with.”

  She giggled. “Um, yeah, I was nine then!”

  “Yeah, well that Violet wouldn’t have complained if her boyfriend had driven all the way to Enumclaw to get her a coffee before school.”

  “Yeah, well that Violet,” Violet added, taking another sip of her latte and raising her brows defiantly, “would have gagged on the coffee and then punched you in the nose for trying to poison her.”

  Jay glanced at her over his shoulder as they hit the main road. “Touché, Vi! Touché!”

  Violet leaned back and tipped her head to the side, watching Jay as he drove. Sunlight poured in through the car’s windows and glinted off his face, catching the strands of his hair and casting his skin in a soft golden glow. It was the way she always saw him, golden and sun-kissed and beautiful. She took a sip of her coffee, feeling warm from more than just the drink.

  Without meaning to, the tinny plinks of her imprint drew her thoughts to a darker place, as she remembered what she’d read in her grandmother’s diaries. As always, her first instinct was to keep the information to herself, to hide it from Jay, and her parents, and from everyone else who mattered. Ferreting the knowledge away and doling it out only on a need-to-know basis.

  It was a lonely way to live. And she was getting sick of it.

  “Hey, you know those journals I told you about? The ones my mom gave me that belonged to my grandma Louise?”

  His eyes stayed trained on the road as they pulled into the student lot. “Uh-huh.”

  “I read something in them last night. Something interesting.”

  Jay cast a quick glance her way. “Interesting how?” he asked.

  Violet lips curved upward. It was a lazy smile, but a satisfied one. “She knew why a body wouldn’t have an echo.”

  “You mean she’d seen that before? Like the boy you found at the lake house?” Jay pulled into a parking spot and turned to stare at her. She nodded. His expression was incredulous, and she thought it was exactly the way she’d felt when she’d first read the entry.

  “I know,” she agreed, even though he hadn’t said a word.

  When they got out of the car, Jay groped for his backpack in the backseat and punched the alarm button on his key fob several times more than he needed to before rushing to keep up with Violet.

  By the time he caught her, Violet was halfway across the parking lot. “So,” he asked, reaching out to stop her before they reached the school. “What was it? Why was the boy missing his echo?” He cocked his head to the side, still looking too golden for his own good.

  “His heart,” Violet offered quietly. “It had been cut out.”

  But before he could respond, Violet tasted the familiar tang of dandelions and glanced up to see a car parked in front of the school—one she recognized all too well.

  “Uh-oh,” Jay said from beside her, seeing the same thing she had. “Looks like someone’s in trouble.”

  Her uncle was there, leaning against the side of one of his police department vehicles with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He spotted her immediately, and she recognized the look on his face. He was fuming.

  “Wait here,” she told Jay, deciding she might as well do this on her own. No point dragging him into this too.

  Her uncle’s stance didn’t ease, even as she came nearer, closing the gap between them. If anything, he looked sterner. Angrier. Violet’s insides felt like Jell-O the closer she got to him.

  “When were you planning to tell me?” He stood up, his actions tense and jerky as he yanked open the back door of the cruiser, telling her without words to get inside.

  She frowned at him, but followed his lead. “Soon,” she said as she slid inside the cool interior of the police car. She would have shivered even if the plastic seat wasn’t cold from the AC. Her uncle’s glower was downright frosty.

  He got in the front seat, and Violet did her best to ignore the strange looks she was getting from the other students as they walked past. She was sitting in the back of a police car, after all. No doubt they were thinking she was in some sort of trouble—at least those who didn’t realize right away it was her uncle behind the wheel.

  She kept her gaze averted, not sure where she should look since she didn’t want to look at her uncle either.

  “You saw Grady after I expressly told you not to get involved,” Uncle Stephen accused. There was a pause and she knew he was waiting for her to look up. Instead, she concentrated on her bare fingernails, which were short and ragged, in desperate need of a manicure, she thought idly.

  Guilt flushed her cheeks. “Actually, you didn’t,” she said, feeling like she was on shaky ground now. She glanced up nervously to see him watching her from the rearview mirror.

  “Didn’t what, Vi?” he snapped, his voice not sounding nearly as unsure as hers had.

  “Didn’t say not to get involved,” she answered, trying to be bolder now. “You didn’t really say anything.” She watched as his face turned an unnatural shade of red.

  She waited for him to say something. To argue that she was wrong, and insist that he had told her to mind her own business. But he couldn’t because he hadn’t. She saw the moment he realized the truth as his shoulders fell and he sighed, a long, deflated sound.

  For a long time there were no other sounds, no words between them. And then he turned around in his seat, no longer staring at her from the mirror.

  When he faced her, she could see the shadowed stubble along his jaw and the even darker shadows beneath his eyes. “I might not have said it, but I should have.” His voice was softer now, less accusatory and more thoughtful. “I didn’t want you to see Grady, but not because I think he’s a killer. I don’t. At least not anymore. The evidence is back, and we won’t be charging him. There’s nothing that shows he was there the day of the murder. Even his alibi checks out.

  “The real truth is, it’s hard for me to stand by and watch you go through this again and again. It can’t be good for you, seeing the things you see. Being around bodies and killers.” He shook his head. “What I should have said that night is that I didn’t want you to get involved any more than you already are because I’m worried about you. I know I can’t protect you, Vi, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to.”

  Violet choked on the lump that formed in her throat. She hated how much she’d already put her family through by being different from everyone else. And she hated even more that it wasn’t going to end anytime soon. “I’m okay, Uncle Stephen. I can handle it.” It was true. She’d realized that much, at least, over the past months . . . the past year. “I want to help. I only went to see him, to see if . . . you know, if he was the one you were looking for.”
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  “I know,” he said, nodding, and looking worn-down. “Sara called me this morning; she said you told her he didn’t do it. It was just one more reason to believe the evidence. Dammit, Vi. When did you get so grown up? When did you stop wearing princess dresses and begging me for piggyback rides? When did you stop needing me to look out for you?”

  Violet grimaced. “Okay, one . . . I don’t think I ever wore princess dresses, even when I was Cassidy’s age, but I’ll cop to the piggyback rides. And two . . .” Her eyes stung as she blinked hard against the tears building behind her eyes. “You know I’ll always need you to look out for me.” She let out a watery laugh. “I mean, you have met me, right? I’m sort of a danger magnet.”

  She heard a sniffle from the front seat, and then her uncle was getting out of the car and opening her door. “Come here, you,” he said, and he was reaching for her before she could even get out on her own. “I really just want you to be happy. I want everything to be rainbows and sparkles for you, Vi.”

  Violet grinned against his chest, where he had her wrapped in one of his famous bear hugs. She hoped she never outgrew his silly sayings. “I know, Uncle Stephen. I’m just not that girl, I guess.”

  He shrugged, not letting her go right away. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try, does it?”

  She was about to tell him that she loved how hard he tried. That, or that she couldn’t breathe, when she heard Jay, his voice finding its way inside the wall of arms her uncle had her buried in. “Does this mean everyone’s all good? There’s been a truce?”

  Her uncle released her and Violet fought the urge to gasp for breath.

  “It’s fine. It’s fine,” Uncle Stephen said, sniffing again. “I should get going anyway. There’s still a lot to do.”

  “I have to go too,” Violet agreed, peering up at Jay. “You know, school and all?” And then she paused as she turned back to her uncle. “So, what about the evidence? Did it show who was there? You said it cleared Grady, but did it give you an idea who might have done it? Any leads on Veronica?”

  Her uncle rubbed his eyes, and this time it had nothing to do with princesses or piggyback rides or family bonds. He shook his head, looking weary once more. “Not yet. But I promise I’ll tell you if we find something. Deal?”

  Violet smiled at him. “Deal.” He turned, but before he could get in his car, Violet called after him, “I love you, Uncle Stephen!”

  He didn’t turn back, but lifted his hand in a wave. “Rainbows and sparkles, Vi. Rainbows and sparkles.”

  School was as bad as she’d expected it to be. Worse even.

  As soon as she entered the hallways, Violet could hear everyone around her talking about the family who’d been killed over the weekend, each with their own dramatic interpretation about how it had happened . . . each with their own version of the gory—if incorrect—details of the murder scene itself.

  In some it was a straight-up home invasion–style shooting. Others claimed it had been a stabbing. Still others claimed murder-suicide. A few gave detailed descriptions of the bodies having been “chopped to bits.”

  And almost all mentioned Grady.

  She hated hearing him accused of crimes she knew—without a doubt—he hadn’t committed. Yet she was unable to defend him, no matter how riled she got.

  How could they be so ignorant? So insensitive? This was one of their own classmates they were talking about. In some cases, he was their friend.

  “You hear about Grady?” Chelsea sidled up next to Violet and started talking before Violet even had a chance to open her mouth. “I hear they think he offed an entire family. It was some girl he was dating who went to Riverside High. And she’s missing now. Her picture is all over the television.” Violet searched for Jay, wishing she hadn’t decided to wait while he dropped his books at his locker. “Dude, Grady Spencer? I never would’ve pegged him as the cold-blooded-killer type.”

  Violet’s stomach dropped as she wondered how much she should—or was even allowed to—reveal. But this was Grady they were talking about. “He isn’t,” she told Chelsea, mildly annoyed that this was the kind of talk she was hearing from her own friends.

  “You know what they say about these guys? You never see it comin’. They’re the perfect neighbor, then one day . . .” Her eyes widened exaggeratedly. “Bam! They just . . . snap.”

  “Okay, crazy.” Violet let out a shaky laugh. She felt bad for even joking when they were discussing something so serious, so disturbing, but Chelsea looked as if she were telling a ghost story in front of a campfire, her eyes all wild and her statements outlandish. “Take it easy. Even if I thought you were right, my uncle told me he didn’t do it.”

  But Chelsea wasn’t finished just yet. “Know what else I heard?” Her face hovered just inches from Violet’s and her eyes narrowed mistrustfully. “I heard that it was someone from White River who found the bodies.” Her voice dropped. “And maybe, just maybe, that someone never showed up at the lake to meet her friends.”

  Violet could hear the blood rushing past her ears, and she reached up to grip the strap on her backpack, her fingers going numb. She prayed Chelsea didn’t notice how pale she’d gone, and she let out a laugh—a nervous high-pitched sound. “That’s ridiculous, Chels,” she said, trying to sound as carefree as she could manage. She started weaving her way through the crowded hallway.

  Chelsea kept up with her easily though, watching her out of the corner of her eye. “Really? Because we waited for hours and you never even called.” Her words were heavy with meaning. “You know something, don’t you, V?”

  Violet smoothed her features as best she could and shrugged. “There’s nothing to know.”

  But Chelsea refused to drop it. “Bull,” she countered. “I know you’ve been through some serious shit, but there’ve also been a lot of times when you’ve just . . .” She snapped her fingers. “Vanished.” Her gaze turned momentarily thoughtful and she pulled Violet to a stop. “And I’m not talking about when you really . . . you know, vanished. I’m talking about all the times no one can reach you, all the times I’ve stopped by your house and your mom says you’re at the ‘library’ or at ‘Jay’s house’”—she emphasized the words with air quotes, making it clear what she thought of the excuses she’d been given—“but here’s the deal, you were never at any of those places. I know because I checked.” Before Violet could say anything, Chelsea went on, “Yeah, that’s right.” Her eyes tapered to slits. “I’m watching you.”

  Violet didn’t have to pretend to laugh this time as she pushed Chelsea away from her. “Oh my god, Chels, you’ve been watching way too much CSI or Law & Order or whatever. Get a grip.” She brushed past her friend, trying to drop the subject. “And stop calling me V. I mean it this time.”

  “You ready?” Jay asked when he found them, and Violet lifted her eyebrows at Chelsea, silently asking her if she was through.

  Glaring, Chelsea made a disgusted sound and studied Violet with pinched lips, but she didn’t say anything else.

  Then, just as she was about to leave them, to go the opposite direction toward her class, Chelsea lifted her first two fingers up to her eyes and then pointed back at Violet, the universal sign for I’m watching you.

  Jay looked confused. “What was that all about?” he asked.

  Sighing, Violet leaned into him as they walked, feeling the burden of too many secrets weighing on her. “Chelsea thinks I’m hiding something from her.”

  He snorted and pointed out the obvious. “If she only knew.” But before Violet could punch him in the arm, they reached her classroom and he stopped short. He scowled, but not at Violet; it was meant for Rafe, who was waiting for Violet, leaning against the wall, wearing a smug grin on his face.

  Jay had accepted the fact that Rafe would be at their school every day, but she knew it bothered him. How could it not? It bothered her, and he was her friend.

  “You okay?” Violet asked, shifting on her feet to block his view of Rafe, forcing him to look at he
r instead.

  Jay exhaled noisily. “Everything’s . . . fine.” He smiled at her, and Violet’s heart shuddered. She didn’t try to stop him when he closed the gap between them, his lips finding hers in a deep—and territorial—kiss.

  When he was finished, she couldn’t find her voice for a long, breathless moment. “That was for him, wasn’t it?”

  “The kiss? Nah, that was for you, Vi. Only for you.”

  She giggled. “I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of some kind of tug-of-war. Only I’m the rope and you two are trying to pull me apart.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, you’re not the rope, you’re the prize.” Jay’s lazy grin reached all the way to his eyes. “And, for the record, I’ve already won.”

  Violet shook her head. “It’s not a contest, Jay,” she replied as she started to walk away.

  But Jay put his hand over hers, pulling her back for one final kiss. “I know, Vi.”

  When she passed him on her way into the classroom, Rafe scowled. “Nice show,” he bit out acerbically. Violet tried to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about as she headed down the row of desks to her seat.

  “Whatever,” Violet answered, not wanting to have this discussion.

  Guys are ridiculous, she decided as she kept walking, glad Rafe was behind her and couldn’t see the scowl on her face.

  If only it were that simple, because then it was Rafe stopping her. Rafe with his electric touch, and when his fingers reached for hers, she couldn’t help jolting. “Sara told me,” he said, his voice so quiet Violet could barely hear it above her music-box imprint. “About what you read in your grandmother’s diary.” His eyes were deep and mesmerizing, and Violet told herself it didn’t matter because Jay already had her. “She also said you told her your friend didn’t do it,” he whispered.

  Violet glanced around, wishing that everyone had heard the truth in those last words, but knowing they couldn’t. Yet all she could say was, “He’s not my friend.”