Detective Miles Tedesco entered the police precinct in Little City, pausing in the entryway to stomp the rain off his clothes. He was a tall man, good looking with brown hair and hazel eyes, and fit due to daily runs in the park near his apartment and a strict low-fat diet. He was disciplined in his professional life as well, arriving thirty minutes early each day to go over his case files.
He worked alone nowadays; his last partner had been retired a few months and he’d yet to be assigned a new one. Not that his case load at the moment required two. In fact, he hadn’t seen movement on any of them until last night, when a call had come in from Philadelphia. A detective there had heard about a body pulled from the Preston River a few weeks ago, a Jane Doe. He wanted to see if she might match a missing person case he was working. Tedesco told him to send over what he had and he’d look into it.
The email with the case details was waiting for him when he got to his desk: white female, lived alone, and reported missing when she hadn’t shown up for work in three days. She’d been missing for almost a year. Her name was Angela Harkin. This struck Tedesco as familiar, so he leaned back in his chair and called out to the detective two desks over.
“Hey, Johnson?”
“Yeah,” Johnson answered without bothering to look up from his newspaper. He was old, overweight, and six months shy of his own retirement.
“What’s going on with that house fire you working, the one with the missing lady?”
“Nothing much. Still open. Why?”
“Just curious. You mind if I take a look at the file?”
“If you don’t mind coming over here to get it.”
Tedesco sighed, pushed back his chair, and strode over to Johnson’s desk. Still keeping his eyes on the newspaper, Johnson nodded his head toward a pile of folders in a tray marked, Open Cases.
“Top file,” he said. Tedesco took the folder and went back to his desk.
A few weeks ago a house had burned down in west Rosemont. As far as southern New Jersey towns went, Rosemont as a whole didn’t see much crime, but not even a house fire—especially one in which no one died—was considered a major case. A house fire in west Rosemont, however, made people pay attention. The Preston River separated north Rosemont—or Little City as everyone called it, since it sat just thirty minutes outside of the larger, more metropolitan Philadelphia—from south Rosemont. The southern part of town may not have had a definite physical separator like a river, but it was divided all the same. The houses in west Rosemont were bigger, nicer, and more expensive than those in east Rosemont. No matter if it were upper or middle class, a house incinerated into nothing the same night the owner vanished into thin air was a hot topic of conversation in Rosemont. Tedesco didn’t have a photo to compare the woman missing from the house fire to the woman who was missing from Philadelphia, but the name was the same - Angela Harkin.
“You mind if I give this a closer look?” Tedesco called out again.
Johnson turned the page of his newspaper and said, “Knock yourself out.”
Tedesco was already mapping out his course of action. He knew there’d be no further conversation with Johnson. The case was now his. Even when he wasn’t close to retirement, Johnson had always seemed to Tedesco as the type of cop who would put in the bare minimum to get the job done. Unlike Tedesco who, at times, would get so immersed into a case other detectives called him obsessed. He was aware of his reputation, but it didn’t bother him. His only concerns were finding justice for the victims, holding criminals accountable, and uncovering the truth. Something bad had happened at that house, something that deserved more attention than Johnson was willing to give it and, though he didn’t know all the details surrounding the missing woman from Philly, he knew for sure that a dead body being pulled from the river wasn’t good.
A lot of questions, Tedesco thought. And only one way to get answers.
He picked up the phone.
*
What should have been the most relaxing period of the day was actually the most stressful. A crowded cafeteria teeming with teenage emotions was hell on an empath, especially when Violet was still struggling to control her power. Most days she did pretty well keeping up her guard, but occasionally she’d get caught up in a conversation, and the next thing she knew she was bathed in someone else’s feelings. Over the past few weeks she’d discovered which of her classmates felt inadequate or overwhelmed. Sometimes she got a good connection and tapped into a student who felt motivated or inspired. Somehow, those were the hardest to come down from. One minute she’d be excited over how many points she was going to score in the next basketball game, and the next minute she was back to her own thoughts and concerns—namely, where was the crazy witch who was trying to kill her, and when would her vampire tutor be returning from her mysterious mission? It always took Violet a few moments to settle back into her feelings, into her own skin. When she did, it was a sharp reminder that, though she and Jack could sit at the table with their friends, putting on normal faces, they were not normal teenagers.
The fact that they’d managed to accumulate a circle of friends was surprising, considering they’d been school pariahs a few months ago. Not so much outcasts, because they’d done nothing wrong. The other kids didn’t know what to make of two strangers whose parents were killed in the same car accident and then, coincidentally, ended up living together. Of course, Jack and Violet knew it had nothing to do with coincidence. Their parents had both wished for their children to be raised by Dr. Tesla should anything happen to them. They knew there was a chance they’d develop powers at the age when most witches and warlocks displayed abilities—fifteen—and they’d need his guidance on understanding and using them.
Once the other students realized that, despite their tragic circumstances, Jack and Violet were just like them—kinda—they’d stopped treating them like being an orphan was contagious. It started off slow, with a few girls joining them for lunch every day. They did this mainly because they had crushes on Jack. Losing his parents and the sudden appearance of Violet in his life only made him seem more mysterious and attractive them. Only two remained, hanging out with them every day for lunch and sometimes after school: Charlotte Temple and Sheila Liu.
Violet found that Charlotte, with her incessant giggling and awkward manner of speaking, wasn’t so bad once you got to know her. She’d even tapped into Charlotte on purpose a few times, and found that she was really kind and somewhat naïve. Charlotte came off as blunt and kind of gossipy, but Violet realized that was because Charlotte didn’t think before she spoke or, better yet, two seconds after a thought entered her head she was giving it voice whether she should or not.
Sheila was the exact opposite: quiet, thoughtful, and self-confident. She didn’t worry about the latest fashion trends and almost always wore faded jeans and vintage tops. Sheila was seldom seen without one of her signature colorful scarves draped around her neck. Her fashion statement clearly said, “I know what looks good on me and it’s not what everyone else is wearing.” She’d recently had her black hair cut into a bob that framed her olive face. Violet thought it made her look even more sophisticated.
She tried not to envy Sheila too much. The first time she allowed herself to wonder how awesome it would be to feel like her, Violet found herself discovering that Sheila was head-over-heels for Jack. The way Violet’s power worked, she completely felt what the other person did, and there wasn’t an ounce of her own emotions to be found. It was disturbing and kind of gross to look at Jack in that way. She hadn’t tapped into Sheila since.
They do look very cute together. Violet watched Jack and Sheila sitting across the table from her. Their heads were bowed, and they were talking so low no one could hear what they were saying over the cafeteria chatter. Charlotte sat next to Sheila with her back turned to the pair, chatting with the boy she was kind of dating, Trey Williams. Violet didn’t like Trey very much. While Charlotte was known to engage in some harmless gossip, Trey had a mean streak, and Violet thought he seemed to really enjoy tearing other people down. She considered that she was maybe a tad too judgmental, but kept an eye on Trey anyway since Charlotte liked him so much.
“He’s not so bad, you know.”
Violet turned and looked into the smiling face of Bobby Matthews, Jack’s best friend. After Bobby’s accident, Jack was plagued by so much guilt he wouldn’t allow himself to be around Bobby, and had pushed his friend away when Bobby had needed him the most. They’d recently reconciled, but Bobby was unaware of the fact that Jack and Violet had powers, and he was definitely clueless to the secret world of supernaturals.
Bobby’s easygoing nature poured forth from his eyes to his smile. He was more than his circumstances and didn’t let being in a wheelchair define him. Since returning to school a few months ago, he’d already joined several clubs and was scheduled to speak at the next school assembly on what it was like to adjust to not having the use of his legs. Violet admired Bobby, and he had a major crush on her.
“Call me crazy,” Violet said, stealing a fry from Bobby’s lunch tray and biting off a piece, “but a girl should want something a little better than not so bad.”
“And what do you want?” There was a smile on his lips, but Bobby’s blue eyes were serious. This was not a conversation Violet was ready to have because, truthfully, she didn’t know what she wanted. Sometimes she thought it would be nice to have someone like Jack had found in Sheila, but then she thought about all the secrets she’d have to keep and it didn’t seem fair. And it didn’t help that she wasn’t sure she liked Bobby the same way he liked her or, at the very least, the way he wanted her to.
Violet was saved from having to answer when Trey said, “Are you guys going to the PVC farm tonight?” Violet looked from Jack to Bobby and saw they were just as confused.
“What’s a PVC farm?” Jack asked.
Trey looked smug, pleased that he knew something the rest of them didn’t. “There are a few unfinished subdivisions across town. Most are filled with just frames and the PVC piping sticking out the ground, but a few have walls, rooftops, and whatnot. Pretty cool place to just chill and not be bothered, if you know what I mean.” He winked at Charlotte, who blushed like a fool.
“Come on. It will be romantic,” Charlotte said, resting her head on Trey’s shoulder. “You know, with all the couples: me and Trey, Jack and Sheila, and you and Bobby.”
Looking into Charlotte’s eyes, Violet could tell she was just joking around and wasn’t trying to be mean, but Violet wasn’t in the mood to joke about her relationship with Bobby, if you could even call it that.
“You did not just say that,” Violet said, her face growing warm.
The smile left Charlotte’s face and she looked bewildered. “Say what?”
Everyone laughed, not buying Charlotte’s fake confusion. Violet felt slightly embarrassed for Bobby. His mother had to drive him to the places they hung out; places that were wheelchair accessible like the mall or the movies. Hanging out in an empty subdivision didn’t sound like something he’d be able to do, even if he wanted to.
“It’s okay,” Bobby said reassuringly, seeing the look on Violet’s face.
She was just about to say that it didn’t sound like a fun way to hang out, especially with it being so cold, but then she noticed Sheila and Jack. Sheila shrugged in a why not fashion, and Jack smiled and nodded. Before Violet could get a word out, Jack said, “Sure, we’ll go.”
Well, that’s settled, Violet thought. She knew if Jack went, she’d have to go because they didn’t go anywhere alone. Not anymore.
*
To save time, Tedesco arranged for the Philadelphia detective, Adam Czarnecki, to meet him at the medical examiner’s office at the morgue. The body of the Jane Doe pulled from the river was waiting for them. She was originally someone else’s case but, like Johnson, the detective was all too willing to pass along the headache to Tedesco. A floater, as such a body was called, wouldn’t look anything like it had when it was alive, so they couldn’t compare it to photos of the missing Philadelphia woman, Angela Harkin, but Czarnecki was bringing with him the woman’s medical records. They were hoping a dental match would confirm the body’s identity.
Tedesco liked Czarnecki almost immediately and realized he was someone he could work with. The detective was young, but experienced. He’d been working in missing persons for the past three years, but had been in homicide before that. Rosemont didn’t have a police force as large as Philly’s, so all detectives worked whatever cases came along: homicide, missing person, robbery, arson. Tedesco always appreciated that about the job. He never knew what would come across his desk next.
The two men met the medical examiner, Dr. Manton, in the morgue, where she’d already had the Jane Doe laid out for them. There was a lot of experience in the room – Dr. Manton, tall with graying dark hair pinned in a bun, had been the city’s M.E. for over twenty years, and the two detectives had each seen their fair share of dead bodies. But something about a floater always took some getting used to. They barely resembled people most times. Instead, they were discolored and bloated, like something out of a horror film or science experiment. The woman from the river was no exception. Each detective covered their mouths with a mask and peered down at was left of what had once been a living person.
“From what we can tell,” Dr. Manton said, pointing at various parts of the body with a gloved hand, “she was between twenty-five and forty, never had children, about five-nine in height. She had dental work on her teeth, pretty extensive, in fact. That would suggest that she was employed or at least had insurance. She wasn’t like some of the missing homeless we find.”
Tedesco and the doctor looked at Czarnecki and he nodded his blond head. “That all matches what we know about Angela Harkin,” he said, his voice muffled by the mask.
“She was in the water for at least a month or two before she was found. You can tell by the adipocere, the soap-like appearance of the fat under the skin.”
“Cause of death?” Czarnecki asked.
“Well, it definitely wasn’t drowning; no water in her lungs. There’s massive blunt force trauma to the skull not consistent with anything we’ve seen from being in the water for a long period of time.”
Tedesco noticed that a large portion of the skull had been smashed, behind where the victim’s right ear would have been. “How long before we get confirmation comparing Angela Harkin’s records with this body?” he asked.
Dr. Manton consulted the writing on a white board across the room. “We’re a little backed up,” she said, “but I can get back to you tomorrow morning. How’s that sound?”
Tedesco and Czarnecki looked at each other and nodded. It would have to do.
*
Trey, the only one among them with a driver’s license, showed up at Dr. Tesla’s house shortly after dark. Charlotte was in the passenger seat and Sheila sat in the backseat alone. Jack and Violet climbed in, Jack sitting in between Sheila and Violet. Sheila touched Jack’s arm and gave it a squeeze by way of hello. He hoped she hadn’t noticed that he temporarily tensed at her touch.
Jack was better at controlling his power, but sometimes the visions just came to him. They weren’t always bad—in fact, he hadn’t seen a glimpse of a future where someone was hurt or killed since Bobby’s accident almost a year ago—but he didn’t want to take any chances. He liked Sheila and wanted to keep her out of all aspects of his magical life. The only thing worse than seeing that something bad would happen to her would be seeing it and not being able to do anything about it.
“I can’t believe your… guardian… let you guys out on a school night,” Charlotte said, turning from the front seat to look from Jack to Violet.
They were used to this, people not knowing how to define their relationship to each other, much less to Dr. Tesla. They were also used to Dr. Tesla taking a bit of a hard stance when it came to them going out alone. That night he’d been surprisingly open to it, as long as they promised to be home by eleven. Violet hadn’t wanted to go, Jack could tell. He knew she was there for him, and he only went to be able to spend time with Sheila. “He can be cool sometimes.” It was all he could think to say.
The rest of the ride to the west side of south Rosemont was spent with Trey talking about the school’s upcoming basketball game, Charlotte hanging on to his every word, Jack wondering if he should risk holding Sheila’s hand, and Violet silently staring out of her window. Jack figured she was thinking about when she used to live on the west side with her parents. Being this close had to be rough on Violet. Also, it didn’t help that they were only a few blocks away from the house where Grace had tried to kill them.
After another two miles Trey pulled into a subdivision. The streets curved and dipped past dozens of houses in several stages of completion. Some lots had nothing more than a foundation, while others had only frames. A few looked finished, except there was no landscaping or mailboxes. It almost looked as if someone lived there. Jack couldn’t help but think of his father. Nick Morrow had been a contractor, building homes for a living, when the economy tanked. Shortly before his death he’d been excited about the prospect of working on building luxury condos in Philadelphia. Seeing the deserted and unfinished subdivision only served as a reminder of how poorly his father’s business had been doing. It made Jack sad that a man who worked as hard as his father had wouldn’t get a chance to see it turn around.
Trey parked in front of a house that looked complete, behind two cars already at the curb. They were in the back of the subdivision where six houses hugged a cul-de-sac. As they piled out of the car, Jack heard faint music coming from one of the houses. Taking Charlotte’s hand, Trey led the way across the bare lawn and around the side of the house. Violet brought up the rear. They went through a wooden gate and entered the backyard where several teens were already hanging out. Jack counted five couples, a few people he knew from some classes, but mostly they were kids he didn’t know by name.
A boy from Jack’s biology class pressed a beer into Trey’s hand and offered cans to the rest of them. They all declined, except Charlotte, who seemed like she was willing to do whatever Trey did. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack noticed Violet shake her head. Before she could say anything he called out to Trey. “Just remember you’re driving us home, alright?”
Trey smiled and said, “Sure thing, Chief.”
Someone had brought lawn chairs and Violet sat in an empty one nearest the back door of the house. Charlotte and Trey had wandered over to a corner, drinking and laughing with two kids Jack didn’t know. Without warning, Sheila took Jack’s hand. “Not really what I thought it was going to be, you?”
Jack shook his head. “Not exactly.”
“Wanna take a walk?” Sheila asked.
Jack looked over at Violet. She looked bored. He caught her eye and jerked his head towards the front of the house. She understood and waggled her fingers at him as an indication it was okay with her. He turned back to Sheila and saw she was giving Violet a grateful smile.
“Sure. Let’s go,” he said.
Still holding hands they began to walk around the sidewalk of the cul-de-sac. Not all of the streetlights were lit, but the ones that were provided enough light that they could see where they were going, and each other, fairly well.
“Are you cold?” Jack asked Sheila after she’d used her free hand to wrap the part of her scarf that had been hanging in front of her jacket around her neck.
“A little,” she admitted, “but this is kind of nice.”
Jack knew what she meant. Whenever he was alone with Sheila, he felt as ease. If it hadn’t been for Violet he’d have never noticed how Sheila felt about him. He was too busy hiding his ability, grieving his parents, and keeping the mother of all secrets. Not that he wasn’t still doing all of those things, but since finding out that Violet was like him, and surviving Grace’s attack, Jack had started to look at life differently. He hadn’t asked for these powers or these circumstances, but they were his and he couldn’t spend his life miserable and isolated, especially when there was someone out there willing to cut his life short the first chance she got.
Once he started to pay attention to Sheila and open himself up to the attention she paid him, Jack found he really liked her. She was pretty and quiet, but she could also be very funny. Her father had moved to this country from China when he was a boy. He was now the head of a computer software company with offices in Philly, New York, and Los Angeles. When Jack had asked why they lived in Rosemont, New Jersey when they could live in one of those other, more exciting cities, Sheila explained that her mother was born and raised in Rosemont and it’s where she always saw herself raising a family.
It had been weeks, but they’d yet to define their relationship. Were they dating? Jack wondered. Could you call hanging out in groups at the mall or movies, and the occasional study session, dating? Just this once, Jack wished he had Violet’s power. What he wouldn’t give to know for sure how Sheila felt. What if I ask her to be my girlfriend officially, and she shoots me down? Did guys even do that anymore?
They stopped in front of a house with a stone porch and decided to sit on the front steps. They were almost directly across the street from where everyone else was, and the music was barely audible. Jack gave a quick chuckle. “We could have just crossed the street,” he said.
“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have gotten to hold your hand for as long as I did.”
Jack tried a little confidence of his own and said, “No one said you had to stop.”
Sheila smiled, slipping her small hand under his as it rested on top of his knee. “So, Jack, what are we doing?”
He thought about playing it off like he didn’t know what she meant. She was too smart for that. Jack took a deep breath and told the truth. “I don’t know. What would you like? I mean… do you want to…”
“Are you asking if I want to be your girlfriend?” She was smiling, but he could see the nervousness in her eyes. Jack thought she’d never looked prettier. Sure and confident Sheila was worried about how he felt about her. How could she not know he was crazy about her?
“If I were, would you say yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then, I’m asking.”
“Took you long enough.”
And then she kissed him.
For the first few seconds Jack was so busy chanting, don’t have a vision, don’t have a vision, over and over again in his head, that he couldn’t enjoy it. But then he felt the sides of his face get warm, despite the cold air. Her lips were soft and she smelled like vanilla and soap. Jack pressed his lips against hers and kissed back.
When they broke apart, Jack took a deep breath. He hadn’t breathed the whole time they were kissing. His hand, intertwined with hers, was slick with sweat. He hoped Sheila didn’t notice. It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was the first that had meant anything. Jack smiled so hard he thought he’d break his face. The best part was that Sheila was smiling, too.
They both looked across the street as Charlotte appeared from the side of the house and made her way over to Trey’s car. She opened the passenger door and retrieved something from the glove compartment. She looked around the cul-de-sac and spotted Jack and Sheila. Charlotte jogged across the street, waving fast food napkins in her hand.
“Sheila, help me find a place to go tinkle. There are no toilets in that house.”
Sheila sighed. “Only if you promise to never, ever call it tinkle again.”
Charlotte giggled. “Trey and his friends have been out here before. He said he thinks that house over there has plumbing.” She pointed to a house directly in the middle of the curve of the cul-de-sac.
“Do you guys want me to come with?” Jack asked. It wasn’t far, but it was getting late and he didn’t like the idea of the two girls exploring an empty house alone.
“I think we can handle going to the bathroom, Jack. We’re big girls,” Charlotte answered.
Jack nodded reluctantly. He’d just gotten a girlfriend; he didn’t want to scare her away by coming off as some overprotective jerk. Sheila gave him a reassuring smile. “We’ll be right back,” she said. “Worse comes to worst and she’ll just have to go in the woods.”
Charlotte didn’t look too pleased with that scenario as the two girls headed off, arm in arm. Jack watched until they entered the house. He thought about going to check on Violet, but she was with a group of people and he was sure she could take care of herself. He climbed the stairs of the porch they’d been sitting on and walked over to the front window, cupped his hands against the glass, and peered inside. The walls had been sheet-rocked, but not much else had been done before the builder had to stop. There was no carpet, plumbing, and definitely no appliances.
Jack found the front door was unlocked and went inside, leaving the door open so Sheila would know where he’d gone. He was reminded of visiting his father’s work site when he was kid. Nick Morrow had always been so proud of the homes he’d built. Jack remembered how his father would point out where everything would go when it was done, which room would belong to the children of the family if they had any, the type of wood or marble he’d used in building a staircase or kitchen floor, things like that. He wondered what his father would have thought about the work that had been started on this house. If there was one thing his father could talk about more than football it was home construction.
Jack walked through what he assumed would have been the living room. There was a stone fireplace against one wall and another with sliding glass doors that led to the backyard. He pressed the latch on the sliding door’s handle and slid one door along its track. Cool air washed over his face as he leaned forward and looked around the backyard. The lawn was fairly large, but dying. The builder hadn’t put up a fence, so the lawn disappeared into the woods behind the house.
At first he thought it was his eyes playing tricks on him, but after a few moments Jack realized there was something moving in the woods—slowly but steadily, and coming right towards the house. He blinked and suddenly found himself face to face with a vampire.
*
Violet yawned. She was giving Jack ten more minutes and then she was going to insist they went home. Amazingly enough, Trey was true to his word and had only had one beer. She wanted to leave while the getting was good. Watching other couples flirt and make out wasn’t her idea of a good time and, just as Charlotte had predicted, it seemed if you weren’t part of a couple, you went unnoticed. Someone had noticed her long enough to once again offer her a beer, and she’d refused again. Violet had only had alcohol once in her life, the night before her parents died. She’d had too much and it hadn’t been a fun experience. She had no desire to relive it.
When she figured ten minutes had passed, Violet made her way to the front of the house, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. She looked around the cul-de-sac but saw no signs of Jack, Sheila, or Charlotte. She thought about tapping into Jack and getting a lock on his location, but if he and Sheila were in the middle of something she wanted no parts of that.
Violet was just about to start walking to each house when she felt a buzzing in her head. She was about to connect to someone whether she wanted to or not. Sometimes, she thought, this power can be pretty darn inconvenient. Moments later she felt fear and adrenaline pumping through her body. She closed her eyes and in her mind saw Jack looking into the red eyes of a vampire. His fangs were descended and he was looking at Jack curiously.
“You’re smaller than I thought you’d be,” the vampire said.
Violet had seen enough. Her eyes flew open and she took off running to the house directly across the street.