Desires of the Dead
Page 37

She’d come to learn that some monsters weren’t make-believe.
Yet there was always that fleeting instant, no matter how hard she resisted it, in which she hoped that it wouldn’t be him. That, instead, her real dad would walk through the door. That he’d come home at last.
But he never did.
Her real dad was gone. And in his place he’d left someone withdrawn and bitter. And very seldom sober.
She was lonely in ways that no one could ever understand.
She strained to hear, clutching the covers close as she curled into a ball and waited for the sounds in the other room to settle once more. She heard the crack of another bottle top. Soon enough, he’d be sleeping.
With relief came hatred.
She hated her father, the man he’d become.
She hated the woman who’d given her life and then left her behind, abandoning her children when they needed her most.
There were others she hated as well, others who had what she didn’t, others who held the things she wanted most in this world. But mostly she hated herself for not being strong enough to save herself. Not yet.
But someday she would be. She wouldn’t be here forever; the conviction of those silent thoughts fortified her.
Eventually she would find a way out.
Chapter 15
Violet wasn’t sure what she was doing out here; she only knew that she didn’t want to be at home, alone with her thoughts.
She’d been driving around town for over an hour, trying to be swallowed by the night, to get lost in it. It was her favorite time to drive, when the streets were all but forsaken.
The rain splashed against her windshield, blurring the lights outside into reflective pools, adding to her sense of seclusion.
It was good thinking time.
She brought her car to a complete stop at the flashing red light of a four-way intersection, even though there were no other cars waiting. It seemed like even when no one was looking, she was always following the rules, always trying to do the right thing.
She wished she knew what the right thing was for her now, what she should do about Sara’s proposal to use her gift to help others. Violet wasn’t even sure whether it was an official offer, or just a fishing expedition by an inquisitive observer. The fact that Sara had given her files to look through meant that she was probably serious.
But there were other opinions to consider; she’d heard the agents in the parking garage:
Bullshit, one man had declared.
A waste of time, stated another.
These were men with badges, experienced investigators. And they certainly didn’t think that the FBI needed Violet’s particular brand of assistance.
Maybe they were right.
Violet didn’t know. She’d spent so much time hiding what she could do that the idea of exposing it to anyone, other than Jay or her family, went against everything she’d ever believed in.
It was a secret . . . her secret. How could she be expected to share that?
Except that it didn’t have to be a secret.
Frustration clouded her judgment. She realized that she was still sitting at the flashing stoplight, waiting for something to happen.
But there would be no signs, no easy answers.
She didn’t want to keep driving aimlessly; she needed to go somewhere . . . even if that somewhere was just home.
She sighed, making her first real decision in days.
Her car grumbled in its usual way, reassuring her that it was still alive as she did an illegal three-point turn in the middle of the deserted stretch of road. She kind of liked doing something that she wasn’t supposed to, even if it was only a traffic violation. It made her feel like she was breaking the rules for no good reason at all.
She turned down Jay’s driveway, killing the lights as she did. She didn’t need them; she could have navigated her way with both eyes closed.
Not for the first time tonight, she wondered what she was doing. She wasn’t sure why she’d decided to come here, but she knew one thing:
She needed to see Jay.
She cut the engine and stepped out into the rain, sneaking around to the side of his house. She tapped lightly on his bedroom window and waited. After a few long seconds, just as she was about to knock again, his curtains parted.
When he saw her, he smiled.
Immediately, everything felt better. Her tattered edges were soothed. She’d done the right thing, coming here.
Jay opened his window. “Go to the door. I’ll let you in.” His voice was quiet and still slow with sleep.
“No,” she whispered back. “You come out here.”
He didn’t argue. “Let me get some pants on. I’ll be right there.”
Violet watched as the curtains fell back into place. The light never came on inside, but within seconds he was climbing out his window. He grinned at her when his feet hit solid ground.
“What are you doing here?” He wrapped his arms around her as if he could, somehow, shield her from the rain falling down upon them. He didn’t complain about the weather.
She pulled loose, just enough so she could gaze up at him. Seeing him made other things seem less . . . important. Less troubling.
“Do you want to go somewhere?”
Violet shook her head. “Can we just talk?”
“Sure.” He shrugged casually, but Violet could read the concern in his expression.
He followed her to her car, and they got inside.
Violet didn’t start the engine; she preferred the quiet. The soft sound of the rain hitting the car created a restful sound track to her mood. Jay reached over and wiped raindrops from her cheek, brushing the saturated tendrils of hair away from her face. Violet grabbed for his hand and held on as she waited for the right words to come.