She’d run into him that day, right before she’d located the killer, when she’d been following Brooke’s bells. He was the officer she’d collided with.

He raised his eyebrows, as he watched all of this cross her face. Each of them scrutinized the other…she trying to figure out how he could possibly be the killer, one of her uncle’s own officers…and he, trying to decide how she knew.

He spoke first, his curiosity getting the better of him. “How did you do it? When no one else could, how did you figure it out?”

Violet’s mouth went dry as her mind raced through half a dozen options, some of which she ruled out immediately. Running was impossible. Screaming was futile all the way out here, especially with the DJ trying his best to rupture eardrums. Her cell phone was in her purse, but she’d left that with Jay since it was too difficult for her to carry. Crying…begging…pleading. All viable options.

And then she decided. Lying.

She did her best to look confused, praying that he didn’t know as much as he seemed to. “What are you talking about?” Her voice was quivering. “Is something wrong, officer?”

He paused thoughtfully, seeming to consider her questions. He was tall, massive really, with broad, boulderlike shoulders that seemed to shrink the space of the restroom. His uniform stretched tightly across the wide expanse of his chest. He grinned at her, showing a glimpse of his white teeth, but still he remained silent.

Violet’s heart surged violently. She decided to try another tack, in case he didn’t know who she was. “Did my uncle send you in here?” she tried nervously. “Chief Ambrose?”

He took a step closer to her, if that was even possible. “You can drop the act.” He skipped a beat, and then he added, “Violet.” He said her name in a way that suggested that there was never a doubt; he knew exactly who she was. And then his voice changed, leaving no wiggle room when he commanded her harshly, “Stop toying with me. I’m asking the questions here. Understand?”

Violet jumped. Her stomach felt queasy, and she started to shake, unable to contain the shuddering fear coursing through her. She nodded apprehensively, her eyes wide.

“I did some digging,” he finally explained, his voice oddly composed again. “You’ve been there all along the way. I’m not even sure that you know how far back you and I go.” He stepped back in an informal manner, his body relaxing as he launched into his explanation. “I didn’t realize it right away. In fact, I might never have realized it, if I hadn’t seen you in action for myself.” His gaze swept over her as she sat, transfixed, listening in frozen horror to the menacing tenor of his deep voice.

She had a hard time concentrating, separating his words and his voice from the high-pitched ringing reverberations he unwittingly carried. She could barely believe that she hadn’t noticed it sooner, that she hadn’t recognized the sound earlier when it was so close to her. How could she have missed it? Even if she had been deaf she should have noticed that sensation.

It was impossible to ignore now. He, of course, was completely unaware of it.

“I would never have suspected you if I hadn’t been there that day, at my partner’s house, when your uncle brought you out to look for…for what? Clues? Bodies? Of course, you must know by now that I had a partner. I doubt you thought it was a coincidence that I was in the woods with you when you had your”-he paused-“your accident.”

Violet thought it was ludicrous that he would call it anything other than what it was. He had tried to attack her, and if it hadn’t been for Jay showing up, he would have. “It wasn’t an accident,” she heard herself saying with more conviction than she would have thought possible under the circumstances.

He laughed at her. “It was, actually. That was not how I intended for things to end up. It was simply fortuitous for you that your boyfriend came along when he did.” And then he added, as if boasting, “I could have killed you both out there, but I hadn’t planned on using a weapon…” He smiled at her. “And I really didn’t want witnesses to what I was going to do, even the kind that don’t live to tell about it. So I decided to wait. I wanted to have you all to myself.”

“Why?” Violet asked, even though she already knew the answer to the question. Because she knew too much, and he couldn’t risk being revealed.

He didn’t bother answering her question. Instead, he kept talking. “After I saw you out there at my partner’s house, pointing out spots that your uncle later ordered exhumed, I realized that somehow you knew where the bodies were buried. Even the ones that didn’t turn out to be human.” He raised his eyebrows. “Did you know that? That we found animals buried in those places?” He shrugged. “You probably already knew that,” he said, more to himself than to her now.

“I was curious about you, so I started to go through the case files. I found something interesting. Your name, it showed up in only one place. One place,” he announced, seemingly baffled by the solitary connection, as if he’d expected more. “You found my poor little lake girl. But you know…” he added, narrowing his eyes with the anticipation of a hunter targeting its prey. His eyes locked on to hers. “…She wasn’t the first of my girls that you found.”

His news wasn’t a complete surprise; she’d known about the girl in the woods, the one she’d found when she was eight years old, and her uncle had already told her that the other man had confessed to killing the girl. But somehow imagining that these two lunatics had been hunting together for that long, that these psychotic killers had found each other in the first place, and then stayed together for over eight years, was appalling to Violet.

Her head was spinning.

This is crazy, she told herself.

He didn’t wait for her to respond, and she didn’t. He seemed to like flaunting his twisted prowess. Besides, what difference did it make if she knew? She doubted he planned on letting her get away from him again.

“That’s right,” he said, enjoying the game he was playing now. “The little girl who found the little girl. Of course, at the time I had no idea that you were involved, and according to the official records, you weren’t. But the name listed in the file was close enough. An Ambrose is an Ambrose, and your father’s name was as indicative as your own would have been.” He leaned closer to her, as if he was telling her a secret, even though they were all alone. “I wonder why he felt the need to leave your name out of it.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to; he wasn’t really asking her a question. But his nearness was unnerving, and Violet found herself leaning back against the wall to get away from him.

He straightened up, his voice taking on a deceptively casual quality once again. “I didn’t actually kill them, you know?” He watched her, waiting for her reaction.

She wasn’t sure she should rise to his bait, but his cryptic explanations were wearing thin. And curiosity was a powerful emotion. He had no way of knowing that she could recognize the lie he spoke. “I don’t believe you,” she stated flatly.

“It’s true. Or at least it was true. He was the one who killed them,” he said, alluding to his partnership again. “I would find them and bring them to him. That was the part I loved, the hunt. That was the part that did it for me. After that, at least until it was time to dispose of the bodies, they were his problem.” He said it as if the girls themselves were insignificant. And Violet believed that, to him at least, they were. Their lives meant nothing to him; they were simply quarry to track, useless once captured.

It suddenly made sense to her, why the other man had carried so many echoes on him, like a patchwork coat he wore all around him. She hadn’t wondered before, but if she would have had time to process it, to think it through, she would have noticed it. That this man, the cop in front of her now, carried only one shrill echo.