head, the whole dang town would think she was as mad as old Miss Laudy. Old Miss Laudy had ended up in a crazy house.
“Nobody needs to know what goes on behind closed doors,” her father had yelled. “And stay away from that family—them Monroes ain’t nothin’ but snobs.”
But Darlene Monroe wasn’t a snob. When kids at school teased Violet about wearing Goodwill clothes and standing in the free-lunch line, Darlene yelled at them to shut up. Darlene told Violet secrets and invited her to her playhouse, where they had tea parties. And they dressed up in Darlene’s mama’s old ball dresses and pretended they were princesses.
“Violet, p…lease. I’m…sca…” The whisper faded, as if Darlene was growing weaker. She was shivering and wet. Cold. All the way to her bones. The smell of a dead animal turned Violet’s stomach. There was muddy creek water. And blood.
She had to help Darlene!
She jumped off the bed and peered through the crack in the door. Grammy Baker sat in the old wooden chair in the den. Sheriff Tate stood beside her. His khaki uniform was splattered with mud. Darlene’s father, a big man with a woolly beard, paced back and forth, tugging at his chin. Darlene’s thirteen-year-old brother, Grady, stared at Violet’s door, his dark eyes hard and cold. Accusing. Violet lurched back as if he’d burned her. Did he know about the connection she and Darlene shared?
If he did, he knew she’d told her daddy where to hunt for Darlene. Violet was trying to help. She loved Darlene. Darlene was her best friend in the whole wide world.
Or maybe Grady knew it was her fault Darlene was missing. If she hadn’t begged Darlene to hurry over to see her new birthday bear, her friend wouldn’t have set off by herself. She’d have waited for Grady….
“You didn’t find her?” Violet’s father asked.
The sheriff shook his head. “We checked the old schoolhouse like you suggested, but weren’t nothing there.”
Oh, no. She’d made a mistake. She’d thought Darlene was at the schoolhouse because that’s where Darlene had wanted to be. Someplace safe.
But she wasn’t safe.
Images flashed like photographs in Violet’s mind. Dirty water gurgling. Copperheads and water moccasins slithering through the wet leaves. The smell of rotting wood. The well house out by Shanty Annie’s. Violet and Darlene had played around it before the scary old woman had run them off. What if Grammy was right about that old haint Soap Sally, who lived in the well? What if Soap Sally had dragged Darlene down inside?
Violet twisted the knob again, her nails biting into the cold metal. But the door didn’t budge.
Her daddy had locked her inside!
She swayed and clawed at the door until blood stained the wood. She felt Darlene’s pain. Darlene’s panic. Her lungs begging for air.
She was so cold and scared. She’d tried to be a big girl and not cry. But she couldn’t help it. He didn’t like her crying. He yelled at her to be quiet. Then he slapped her. She pressed a hand to her stinging cheek. He had big hands. And mean eyes. She wanted her mommy, but her mommy was dead….
Footsteps clattered as everyone went outside. Violet dragged herself to the window and tried to yell, but her throat closed. Someone was choking Darlene!
She had to stop him. Get the sheriff. But Grady, his father and the sheriff climbed into the police car and roared down the graveled drive.
“Stop!” Violet screamed.
They couldn’t hear her. Mud and gravel spewed behind them. Violet collapsed on her knees on the wood floor, heaving for air. Her father wrenched open the door. She lunged forward, gasping. “Tell them, look at Shanty Annie’s. T-tell them, Daddy. Soap Sally got her!”
Violet’s father dragged her to her feet. “There ain’t no such thing as Soap Sally. That’s a stupid legend your grammy told you to keep you from the well. Now hush.” He shook her so hard her teeth rattled. Bobo skittered across the floor. “I told you not to go around talking crazy like this—it’s evil that’s got inside you. Pure evil.” He turned black eyes on her grammy. “Pack her things and get her out of here tonight. She can’t stay here no more.”
Grammy nodded. Her hands jerked as she yanked open the bureau drawer. Then she stuffed handfuls of Violet’s clothes in a duffel bag as if she feared the devil himself would swoop down and take Violet straight to hell.
Violet’s daddy hauled her to the rusty Ford station wagon. She begged him to stop, but he shoved her inside and slammed the door.
Violet beat on the glass. “Daddy, please tell them Shanty Annie’s. Save Darlene….”
But he walked away from her. Grammy climbed in, started the engine, then threw the car into gear and tore off. Violet pressed her face against the door, sobs racking her body. Rain pounded the hood and the wind howled, bowing trees and shrubs. The car bounced over a pothole, jarring her head against the window. The house disappeared from sight. Just as they rounded the corner near the sweet gum tree, the voices in Violet’s head suddenly quieted.
Another image flashed there.
Darlene. Lying still on the ground. Dead leaves, soggy red clay beneath her. Rain splattered her colorless face. Her eyes were wide open in terror.
Cold. She was so cold. As if ice had frozen her veins.
A screeching sound echoed behind her—the whine of a harmonica.
No, a horrible sound. The whistle of wind blowing through something else. Something Violet didn’t recognize. Maybe bone.
She doubled over and reached for Bobo. But she’d left him behind. She’d lost him, too. How could she go on?
Maybe her daddy was right. Maybe she was evil. Maybe that was the reason Darlene had been taken.
Tears gushed out and poured down Violet’s face. She would never forgive herself or her father.
It was too late for Darlene….
CHAPTER ONE
Twenty Years Later
HE HAD COME BACK to get her. She heard the sound, breath against bone….
Violet bolted upright from a dead sleep and searched the darkness. She’d known this day would come. That he’d find her and kill her just as he had Darlene.
Shadows from the room clawed at her. A reedy, whistling sound rippled in her ears. What was it? An animal crying? No, it was lower, softer but sharp.
Almost like…like the sound she’d heard the night Darlene died.
Had the sound been in her dreams or was someone really outside this time?
She flicked on the fringed lamp, searching the room, angry that she still hadn’t conquered her fear of the dark. Or storms. She had dreamed of Darlene’s death a thousand times over the years. And that noise—she’d heard it before, too.
But never like this.
Not
