Her friends Mike and Megan had moved away after that night at the cabin when their father had confessed to killing their mother and then turned the gun on himself.

But they weren’t the only ones whose lives had been changed by the events of that night. Violet’s life had changed too.

She had found a home that night. A safe place where she could put her gift to good use. With Sara’s team of misfits.

Violet parked her Honda next to Krystal’s oversized, gas- guzzling Chevy. It didn’t matter that Roxy was about thirty years out of style, or that she took up nearly two parking spaces on her own; the car totally suited Krystal’s eclectic style.

She navigated the nondescript hallway that led to the state-of-the-art facility the team referred to as “the Center.” If you didn’t know better, the building was just another warehouse in the middle of the industrial section of Seattle. But Violet knew better. Holding up her keycard, she waited until the light on the panel outside the inner entrance turned from red to green, signaling that her access had been granted, and she slipped quietly inside.

Everyone was already there, gathered in the oversized space where a cluster of chairs and couches had been pulled together for their meeting. Violet took the opportunity to look around at their group. They were an odd collection, with very few outward similarities.

Gemma was a throwback to old Hollywood glam, and Violet envied the other girl’s heart-shaped face, golden blonde hair, and bowed lips that were perpetually painted a vibrant poppy red. She wondered how it was possible that Gemma was only sixteen. But the effect of her doelike brown eyes was lost once you recognized the hardened air she wore like armor. She seemed jaded. Cynical. Caustic.

Or maybe it was only Violet who got that vibe from her.

Her gaze moved to Sam Abolins, the youngest member of the team. He claimed to be almost sixteen, but Violet had a hard time believing he was a day over fourteen. Granted, he was tall, but he was too gangly by half . . . still waiting for puberty to fill out his lanky body. In the two months she’d been with her new team, Violet had only met Sam a handful of times, most of those during the first investigation she’d been involved in, an arson case. It had been awkward for Violet since she was brand-new, and her ability hadn’t been useful. But unlike Gemma, Sam had made it easy for her, making an effort at small talk and trying to make Violet feel welcome. Violet had watched him then, as he’d touched the charred remains from the fire when they were brought into the Center, his face twisted in concentration.

Now Violet saw Krystal standing in the space they called the break room. She was just closing the door of the industrial-sized refrigerator when she noticed Violet at the entrance and her mouth split into a wide grin. “What took you so long? We were waiting for you,” she whisper-yelled as she popped open a bottle of sparkling water. Violet wondered if she actually thought no one else could hear her, even when everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up at her.

“You know, school,” Violet answered, doing her best to ignore the look of disgust Gemma shot her from her place on the couch. She made her way as inconspicuously as she could to where the rest of the team was gathered, hoping not to draw any more unwanted attention.

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t live so far away, you’d be here on time like the rest of us,” Rafe said, his voice quiet and mocking as Violet took the open spot next to him. “Nice entrance, by the way. Way to be low-key.”

Violet made a face at him as Sara gave her a brief nod and flipped through a manila file. “Now that everyone’s here, let’s get started.” Violet cringed at the reminder that they’d all been forced to wait for her. “Here’s what we know so far. . . .” Sara’s voice began in its usual controlled and clipped way—what Violet considered her work voice. “The police have confirmed that the girl Violet found was Antonia Cornett. She’d been missing for almost two weeks.” Sara pulled a photo from her file and handed it to Sam, who was sitting in the seat closest to her. “Her friends called her Toni.”

Sam studied the picture for a moment before passing it to Gemma.

“I’ve also been told that she’s not this guy’s first victim. In fact, the police are dubbing him ‘the collector.’ Apparently, this is the third body they’ve found in this condition.”

Violet wondered if she’d missed something, and she raised her hand uncertainly.

Her lips turning up slightly, Sara shook her head. “Violet, this isn’t school. If you have a question, just ask.”

Violet dropped her hand, her cheeks flushing. “Sorry. What did you mean by in this condition? What condition was she in?”

Sara nodded as she explained to the group. “Apparently his MO is to try to preserve the bodies. The first two times he used large coolers, but this time . . .” She looked at Violet again. “Well, you saw, he put her in a freezer instead. Since there was no power and it was still cold, it was obvious it hadn’t been there long. The girls are killed by suffocation; there are signs of strangulation. But each of them is treated with the same care: hair washed and styled, nails freshly painted, makeup applied, and clothes immaculately cleaned and pressed. Like they’ve just gotten ready for a date.”

Violet felt sick. Whoever this guy was, he was clearly spending far too much time with the bodies after they’d died.

She couldn’t help wondering what else he’d done with them.

Shuddering at the thought, she curled her feet beneath her and glanced up at the skylights in the ceiling. The sun was moving down the sky, tracing a fiery path toward the waterfront. Already Violet could feel the effects of a restless night catching up with her, and she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. She blushed again when she caught Rafe watching her. It seemed like he was always watching to see how she was handling all this.