“I sensed something, Jay. Down by the ferry terminal, when Chelsea and I were there yesterday. That’s why I didn’t want to go out last night.” She sighed. “I think I might have freaked Chelsea out. She had no idea what was going on.”

He scowled at her. “So why the hell did you go back?”

She rubbed her temples with the thumb and forefinger of one hand, covering her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the worry on his face. Even with a good dose of sleep, she still felt uneasy . . . unsettled. And she knew she wouldn’t feel any better until they found whoever was inside that steel crate, and he—or she—was laid to rest. “I had a dream, and I needed to go back and find out for sure if something—someone—was there.”

When she glanced up, Violet saw the muscles in his jaw flex. “So?” he asked through clenched teeth. “Did you? Find something, I mean?”

Violet’s cheek was getting sore from where her teeth were ripping it apart. “N-no,” she stammered. “I mean, kind of.”

“Well, shit, Violet, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means there’s someone locked inside one of those gigantic shipping containers down on the docks. But I couldn’t get inside, so I still don’t know for sure. I mean, not in any way I can prove.”

Jay jumped up from his chair. It was more than he could take. “Are you telling me you went down to the shipyards before it was even light out? In the middle of the night? All by yourself?”

Violet smiled then. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t help herself; she felt the corners of her mouth twitching upward before she could stop them. She was never going to get used to this, his worrying about her.

“Yeah,” she challenged, taking a step toward him. “Something like that.” She walked to where he was standing, barely containing his frustration. She didn’t try to hide her grin. She put her palms against his chest and could feel his heart beating wildly. “You think you’re gonna be okay? Do you need to sit down? Do you want me to get you a cup of tea or something?”

“Hell, Violet, it’s not funny. I swear to God, you’re asking for trouble when you do things like that.”

She dropped her hands, her eyes narrowing. “Things like that, Jay? Things like what? I never do things like that. And it’s not like I wanted to go; I had to go.” She wasn’t smiling anymore.

Jay exhaled loudly. “You should have called me. I would’ve come with you. You know I would have.”

The teapot started to hiss behind her. “I know,” she admitted. “But you also would’ve told my parents. Or my uncle. And I didn’t want them to know. Please don’t tell them, Jay.” Steam whistled through the kettle’s spout, and Violet turned around to slide it from the burner.

She kept herself busy for a moment, pouring hot water into a mug and giving Jay a chance to absorb what she’d just asked of him, letting him consider her request.

Before the dance and before they were a couple, there would have been nothing to think about; he would never have told on her. They’d kept each other’s secrets. No matter what.

But now everything—everything—had changed, and Violet was sometimes surprised by how far he would go to keep her out of harm’s way. She knew that, for him anyway, it meant that he would even betray her secrets if it meant she’d be safer in the end.

She carried her steaming mug, with the tea bag steeping inside, and set it on the table as she sat down.

Jay reluctantly sat too. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, watching her warily. Finally he sighed, “I won’t tell . . . if you make me one promise.”

She met his eyes, hesitating at the look she saw on his face. The unusual mixture of tenderness and fear were at odds, but it made Violet feel warm and soft inside. He reached out his hand to her, and she took it, letting him pull her toward him. She settled onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around her. He nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply as if the scent of her was somehow reassuring.

“Next time . . .” he insisted in a voice quieter than before, “you call me.”

She nodded, satisfied that he would keep her safe . . . secrets and all.

It was completely astonishing to her—even after all these months—being in love with her best friend.

Violet survived the surprisingly brief interrogation by her parents. She and Jay had come up with a lame story about going to Chelsea’s to get the cell phone she’d left in her friend’s car the day before. But as it turned out, she really hadn’t needed the lie. Her parents didn’t seem all that concerned about where she’d been. They were more worried about how she was feeling today, knowing that she’d locked herself in her bedroom the night before.

Later that evening, once again alone in her room, Violet turned on the TV and scoured the local news for reports that a body had been discovered on the waterfront. When she found nothing on the news, she checked the internet. She was afraid that it would be there, that her darkest fears would finally be confirmed, that someone had been murdered and left behind for her to find.

And she was equally afraid that there would be no news, that she would remain in this tormented state indefinitely. Either way would be devastating.

But in the end, she knew nothing more than she had that morning.

So it was another rough night for Violet, and it took her hours to drift into a sleep that was too light to be restful. But it was a dreamless night and, for that at least, Violet was grateful.