He had a halo. A ring of light around his head that almost . . . almost made him look angelic.
But Violet knew better.
This boy was no angel.
“Where is he? Where’s Jay?” she whimpered, wanting to see him now. Wanting to touch him and hold him.
She heard him then, and realized he must’ve been near her the entire time. “I’m right here.” Leaning forward, she glanced into the back of the ambulance parked beside the one she was in. Jay was there, holding a thick piece of gauze to his cheek.
He nodded at her. “I would’ve come find you, but I was told if I try to leave the back of this rig again, they’d tell the doc to sew my stitches in the shape of a heart.”
“Stitches?” Violet asked, jumping down and going to him.
He hooked his arm around her waist, drawing her close. His breath was warm and comforting against her cheek, and his voice was soft. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”
She would’ve asked more, but just then she heard the commotion behind her, and there was a stretcher coming out. One of the paramedics was calling out orders and she heard something about a girl who’d OD’d. But somewhere in there, in all that chatter, she heard the words: Vitals are stable.
Her heart sped up, hope filling her to overflowing. She left Jay and went closer, wanting to see for herself. Needing to know if it was true, that Chelsea had survived.
But then her vision clouded, and she realized it wasn’t Chelsea at all. It was another girl.
One who must’ve been hiding in the attic. A killer.
Jumping out of the way, she let them pass as her hope faded. And then she saw the second stretcher. Paramedics were flanking all sides, making it impossible to see past them, and Violet scrambled to get closer, knowing it could only be one person on there.
“Is she . . . ?” she tried to ask as they passed. But the question hadn’t been necessary, because she could see now.
And she almost fell to her knees again.
The imprint . . . the smoke . . . it was gone.
One of the paramedics nodded at Violet as they walked by. “She’s stable,” he said, and then they disappeared into the back of an awaiting ambulance and drove away.
CHAPTER 22
VIOLET SAT BACK IN HER CHAIR, STARING UP AT the ceiling tiles. She knew that it was daytime, and that Chelsea was out of surgery and was now in recovery, but other than that she had no idea what time it was . . . or even what day.
Time seemed to bend and sway and warp around her, distorting her every thought and making her head split.
It felt like weeks had passed since that night at the abandoned house.
Yet only hours had gone by since her best friend had died.
She’d opted against waiting with Chelsea’s family—her parents and her little brother and older sister—and with Jules and Claire, and the rest of the people who’d gathered in the family waiting lounge. Instead, she’d found this quiet stretch of hallway, too brightly lit, but entirely private from the stares of well-meaning friends and family.
Her own parents had come and gone, at Violet’s insistence, giving her the space she’d claimed she needed. They were good like that. Patient.
“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere.”
Startled, Violet stopped humming, not even realizing she’d slipped into the old habit, as she glanced up at the familiar voice. She shrugged, not sure how she could explain her need to be alone at a time like this, when she should be clinging to others for support. “I’ve been here.”
Sara sat down next to her, and the temperature dropped at least five degrees, at least in Violet’s estimation. She drew in on herself, wrapping her arms around her as she turned to face her fearless leader.
“The girl came to, the one from the attic. Couple of hours ago. She was dazed but she told the officers who escorted her that they needed to find someone named Colton. She said he was hurt and needed help. Most of what she said didn’t make much sense, but they were able to get a location from her.” Violet watched Sara’s blue lips, wondering at the sheer beauty of them. The frost that coated them sparkled beneath the glare of the too bright lights. “When they got there, they arrested a boy and a girl, and found another boy severely beaten, barely clinging to life.” She winced as breath gusted from her mouth on a sigh. “They’d been treating him with heroin. He may never regain consciousness.”
“One of their victims?” Violet asked.
Sara shook her head. “One of their own. As far as we can tell, Evan Schulte, the boy who hurt your friend . . .” Her expression was grave. Sad. “Evan Schulte, the boy we have in custody for hurting Chelsea, was using his friends for home invasions, where they would steal enough to pay for drugs. Apparently, the Bowmans weren’t their first victims, just the first situation that got out of hand and turned deadly. Evan hasn’t said a word, so unless we get the other kid, or one of the girls, talking again, we won’t know much more until forensics start coming back.”
“Unless one of us can help sort things out,” Violet said, smiling a little now. Glad the killing spree was finally over.
“Yeah, you should be able to sort out who killed who at least,” Sara agreed. “With this many suspects it’ll be hard to know for sure who’s to blame. As far as the why and the how, well, I’m hoping to get my hands on some of their things so I can let the rest of the team start working on it.”
There was a long quiet moment, and Violet felt time slipping once more. She couldn’t tell if it was too long, the silence, or if just enough time had passed.