A Breath Away by Rita Herron Page B

than this. She would go to heaven. She had to. She had been a good girl. There would be no pain on the other side.
    His fingers brushed across the bare skin of her abdomen. Then he dribbled warm water on her belly. A cry tore from her throat. She only hoped that he made it quick.
    And that one day, someone found her killer.
    She had to get help.
    Violet struggled to clear the vision and orient herself. She was still in the woods beside the graveyard. But another woman was going to die. She could sense her fear, see her losing consciousness. Feel the prick of the man’s fingers as he trailed his nails over her skin.
    Just like in her vision, she was weighted down. She couldn’t move.
    She was suffocating from the darkness.
    â€œHelp me.”
    Violet gasped for air, hearing Darlene’s childlike voice crying out, too. No, this time it was the woman’s.
    Was it real? Or was she going crazy?
    His fingers brushed her bare stomach, and she jerked.
    It was real. He was taunting her. Baiting her. He wanted her to know what he was doing.
    * * *
    G RADY UNDERSTOOD EXACTLY how it felt to be on the receiving end of his father’s hatred. But he had no idea how Violet would react to it. Especially since she’d suffered enough trauma already the past few days.
    He cranked up the engine of the squad car and drove through town, once again scanning the streets. This time for Violet. He checked the obvious. The florist. The funeral home. But he didn’t see her car. Other than her childhood home, Grady could think of a couple other places she might go. The morgue or the graveyard. Or maybe the sweet gum tree. Since the coroner hadn’t yet released her father’s body, and the sweet gum was nearher house, he hedged his bets and decided to check the graveyard first. He had to pass by there anyway on his way home.
    He should just let her be alone. Let whatever his father had said to her stand.
    It wasn’t as if Grady wanted her to stay around, anyway, or that he could console her. Not until he knew the whole truth.
    The squad car took the ruts in the mountain road with no trouble. Perspiration trickled down his neck and dampened his shirt, the open window circulating hot air as the noon sun beat down on the asphalt. He swiped at the sweat and steered onto the graveled road that led to the small church. Violet’s Civic was parked near the entrance, empty. She had either come to visit Darlene’s grave or her mother’s.
    He parked, then sat in the hot sun for a minute, batting away the flies, contemplating his next move. He wanted to put this case to rest. To know that Darlene’s murder had gone avenged. But too many questions still taunted him.
    Violet’s doubt over her father’s guilt clouded the case even more.
    Did she know something she wasn’t telling?
    Releasing a frustrated sigh, he opened the car door and stepped onto the drive. His gaze scanned the rows of gray granite markers, some graves well-kept, others left to the weeds, as forgotten as the loved ones who lay six feet under. His father had hired someone to tend Darlene’s mother’s grave or it would be overrun by kudzu by now. And Darlene’s… Grady visited it yearly, on the anniversary of her death, but had forced himself not to become obsessive.
    Violet was nowhere to be seen.
    He squinted at the shafts of sunlight slanting through the trees surrounding the property. A shadow moved in the distance, then retreated. A man with long hair tied back in a ponytail? Joseph Longhorse?
    A scream suddenly echoed from the thicket. The shadow darted the opposite direction. Grady started to follow.
    But another scream rent the air, and he took off running.
    * * *
    H E HAD TO MAKE SURE Violet Baker left town.
    Walt Monroe tapped the end of his pipe, lit the imported tobacco and took a long draw, savoring the rich taste along with the first sip of his afternoon bourbon. The girl had always been trouble. Putting crazy