Dead Silence
Page 35
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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.”
“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.”
