When her hand brushed against something smooth, something that crackled beneath her fingertips, Violet stilled. Whatever she’d just felt was unnatural, man-made.
She prodded it again, listening to the synthetic sound as her finger glanced over something firmer beneath, something grotesquely familiar in feel.
It was a body.
Wrapped in plastic tarpaulin.
Violet clumsily shot to her feet, inhaling sharply as she clasped her fingers to her chest.
When she felt someone grab her from behind, strong fingers gripping her shoulders, she gasped, choking on her own breath. Her heart pounded viciously, violently. How could she have been so foolish? Why hadn’t she waited?
And then a soft voice silenced her, causing her to whimper. “Shhh . . .” Breath warmed her cheek. “It’s okay, it’s just me.”
Rafe!
She turned quickly, wrapping her arms around him as relief and gratitude intertwined in a twist of emotions. “Thank God it’s you! I’m so glad you came.” She clung to him. She was no longer alone; she was safe.
Her fingertips brushed the exposed skin at the nape of his neck, just below his hair, and that static spark, the one she’d felt before, when they’d touched at the café, jolted through her. Jolted them both. Rafe stiffened, and Violet was suddenly all too aware of his nearness, of the warmth of him beneath her, of his sinewy strength, and his scent.
She dropped her arms away. “Sorry,” she insisted, her eyes too wide. She was desperate to have this moment forgotten. The pattering of rain continued to beat down around her, and she glanced toward the grave. “I found something . . . someone, right there.” She pointed. “I don’t know who it is, but it’s definitely a body.”
“We need to get out of here.” Rafe grabbed the sleeve of her jacket and pulled her away. “We need to call Sara and tell her what you found.”
Violet let him drag her past the trailer and down the driveway. And even as she moved away from the sensory rainstorm, the icy dread remained, refusing to release her. She was terrified that whoever had left the light on inside would come back, would find them there, with her covered in the dirt from a shallow grave. She was afraid that they would end up buried too . . . wrapped in tarps of their own.
When they reached the end of the driveway, Violet wiped her hands on her jeans and felt inside her pocket for her keys. Her hands were shaking.
“Can you drive?” Rafe asked in a voice that seemed far too calm under the circumstances.
Violet saw the big black SUV parked behind her car, and she knew that Rafe had driven Sara’s car to meet her.
She nodded. “I’m fine.” It was a lie. She was certain she could drive, but she wasn’t “fine.”
“There was a gas station down the street, on the corner. Follow me. We’ll stop there and then we can call Sara.”
Violet took a shaky breath as she started her engine, waiting for Rafe to pull out in front of her. She worked to get her quivering nerves under control.
Somewhere back there in the darkness, buried beneath an old pine tree, was a body wrapped in a tarp. And for some strange reason, it felt at peace.
Violet followed Rafe as he turned into the gas station, one with a crowded parking lot and lots of lights. She still wasn’t sure her heart would ever beat normally again.
He didn’t head for a designated space, he just parked off to the side of the lot, and Violet pulled up behind him and waited.
Rafe tapped on the passenger-side door, and Violet reached over to unlock it. He nodded at her as he climbed in. “You sure you’re okay? You’re kind of a mess.”
Violet looked down at her hands, at the dirt crusted beneath her fingernails, and then at her jacket, which was smeared with grime. Her fingers were still trembling, but she ignored his concern. “Do you want to call or should I?”
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
Violet was grateful to just sit there and listen. The conversation was brief, and again Violet had the feeling that very few words were needed between the two of them.
“She found a body at the Hartman place; it’s out back, under a tree.” He paused to listen. “You’ll see it; she was digging for it when I got there.” Another brief pause, and then Rafe shot her a sideways glance, as if searching for confirmation. “Yeah, she says she’s fine.” After he listened for a few seconds, he hung up, no good-bye, nothing more from his end. And then he looked to Violet, really looked at her this time. “I mean it. Are you gonna be okay driving yourself home? It’s a long way.”
She inhaled, and even her breath was shaky, but she nodded anyway. “I just want to go home and shower.”
Rafe studied her for a few long moments, and then seemed satisfied with her well-being. But before he could leave, Violet stopped him. “I really am glad you came, Rafe. Thank you.”
He smiled in his sly way and slid out of the car. Like with Sara, he gave her no other response. She supposed he wasn’t much of a talker.
Once she was alone again, she had time to think. She was nervous about what—or rather, who—Sara would find when she got there. She was afraid that it would be Mike’s mom—Serena Russo. And that Violet might be the reason that his family discovered that she didn’t actually run away all those years ago, but that she was dead, buried at the base of an old pine tree.
But there was another part of her, a part that felt good about what she’d just done. Accomplished even, for the first time in a long time. A part of her that felt like maybe she’d helped.