Violet only half nodded as she looked around, trying to decide which direction made the most sense.

Part of her knew Jay was probably right, that Chelsea was probably in the back of some guy’s car right now, too far away for them to help her. But she couldn’t just wait for Sara, or someone else, to arrive. Even if the police did show up in the next few minutes, she had no new information to give them. She’d already heard Rafe telling his sister about the club and the spiked drink and the brimstone tattoo, which was really all they had to go on at this point anyway.

She started pacing up the sidewalk, following the path along the street, certain Jay was right behind her. There was no way he’d let Violet out of his sight now.

“I should never have brought her here,” Violet groaned, her steps speeding up now.

They reached the crosswalk and Violet repeatedly pressed the button for the crosswalk signal to turn with her thumb, as if the repetitive action might spur the signal along. It didn’t and she grew more and more agitated, hopping from one foot to the other.

“There’s no way you could’ve known.” Jay tried to assuage her, but Violet didn’t want to hear that now. The weight of Chelsea’s predicament was crushing her.

“Except that’s not entirely true, is it? I’ve gotten myself into jams before, why did I think this one would turn out any different? I shouldn’t have involved anyone else. This is my burden, not hers.”

The signal changed and Violet started jogging, and then running, not wanting to let Jay make excuses for what she’d done. For the situation she’d put Chelsea in.

This was all her fault. And if Chelsea got hurt . . .

She’d never forgive herself.

“Which way should we go?” Violet asked, her voice rising when they reached the other side. But the question didn’t have an answer, not really, and she threw her hands in the air. “I have no idea what to do, Jay. She could be anywhere!”

She didn’t want to cry. Not here, not now, but her voice trembled and the frustration of their dilemma overcame her.

Tacoma was a huge city. Sprawling . . . with thousands upon thousands of homes. Thousands upon thousands of places he could have taken a girl to hide her.

And Violet knew what he was capable of. She’d seen the proof firsthand.

Hunching forward, Violet swiped at the tears she couldn’t manage to stop, rubbing her eyes. She felt helpless. Hopeless.

Useless.

“We’ll find her,” Jay offered, but the conviction was absent from his voice. Even he knew he couldn’t make a promise like that.

Sniffing, Violet stood upright again, and then she saw it.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to decide whether it was real or not. Or rather if it was only because her makeup was burning her eyes that the spot flitted into her vision. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

But she was almost sure she hadn’t imagined it. That it hadn’t been a trick of her mind . . . that single, tiny blue fleck.

She took a step one way, trying to re-create the effect.

“We should go back to the club and wait for the pol—”

“Shhh!” Violet demanded, trying to concentrate.

When it didn’t come back, she took a step forward, and then another and another. Her heart seemed to match her paces now, quick and erratic, creating a staccato rhythm against the sidewalk, and inside her chest.

Nothing again.

She went back the way she’d come, to the place where she’d started, and still, nothing.

And then she crossed that threshold, moving one step farther. And again.

There it was . . . a quick burst of red.

And another step . . . a blast of yellow. Then one more . . . this time green.

The colors. They were back.

She laughed with relief, sounding deranged, unstable. “He’s here,” she practically sobbed. “We can find her.”

And then she was off, following a path that was gradually blinding her and could only mean one thing. That she was chasing a killer.

It was slow going, and they had to backtrack up and down side streets more than once as Violet would find the trail, and then lose it again. The neighborhoods they combed grew and more and more bleak, and more and more impoverished and menacing the longer they ran.

It felt like they’d been searching for hours, but according to Jay only five minutes had passed. Violet was worried. What if they were tracking the wrong guy? What if he didn’t have Chelsea?

Or what if he’d had her and already disposed of her?

The image of Veronica Bowman flashed through her mind, discarded at a home that wasn’t her own, a needle buried in her arm.

She’d been drugged too.

But Violet had something on her side that this guy didn’t know about. Her ability.

She could track him. And she had no intention of giving up.

Turning once more, Violet flinched as a pair of dogs hit the chain-link fence that contained them. They were frenzied and tried their best to get at her and Jay. Jay’s hand closed over hers as he drew her backward while the animals barked and growled, snarling and gnashing their teeth. There was nothing about the display that was meant for show. Those dogs would just as soon rip their throats out as let them pass.

“Holy crap,” Violet whispered, still not letting go of him when they reached the streetlight on the corner. She took a breath. “That scared the crap outta me.”

Jay’s grip tightened. “You and me both.”

They skipped that street, deciding to avoid Cujo and his friend. But they couldn’t stop. They were close, Violet could tell, because her vision grew more and more impaired.