Page 82 of Dance With Death

“No.”

Violet sucks her lips together, and I’m impressed at her self-control when she doesn’t berate Kai.

He scratches his cheek. “But I found something else in a drawer that freaked me out. He had a fancy folder from the local funeral place, and I thought he was planning mine.”

“And?” I ask.

“There was an invoice inside. Dad paid for everything related to Wes’s funeral. I mean everything—top price.” He scoffs. “I wonder if he’ll get all the extras for me?”

“Wesley Willis’s funeral?” asks Violet.

“What the hell?” says Leif. “Why would Sawyer do that?”

“Good question,” I mutter. “Did you take photos of the invoice?” Kai nods. “Send them to me.”

“What did you find about your mother, Kai?” asks Violet. “You informed us you’d discovered something.”

“Yeah. I searched through her closet and found a small cardboard box hidden at the back, on a high shelf.” He rubs his nose. “I barely got a look before Mum came into the room; she asked what I was doing, and I had to make an excuse.”

“What excuse did you use?” I ask warily.

“Uh. That I wanted to borrow a pair of shoes.”

“From your mother’s closet? You’re not even the same shoe size.” Leif groans.

“Shoes was the first thing that came to mind!” Kai protests. “If Mum asked why, I could’ve told her a girlfriend wanted to borrow them.”

“But she didn’t ask about the box?” I lean forward. “Did she see what you were doing?”

“Mum always gets pissed if people mess with her things. I swear she’s OCD. Tidy freak. Control freak.” He shrugs. “I left her examining the wardrobe but, no, she never mentioned the box. I did manage to grab a couple of photos from the top before Mum appeared.”

“Oh?” Violet’s hand shoots out. “Show me.”

“You can’t take them,” he warns. “I’ll have to put them back some time.”

“Yes, yes.” She beckons with her fingers.

Kai stands and goes to a small cupboard beneath the TV on the wall. He pushes around inside, moving games controllers and junk before producing an A4 envelope. “I placed them in here.”

An eager Violet tips the aged images on the low table between the sofa and chairs, then spreads them all out for us to all pore over.

One depicts a family standing outside a red-brick suburban house, parents and a son and daughter. The tall girl with straight chestnut hair smiles at the camera, but the guy beside her, a couple of years older, hunches over, hands in pockets, scowling. They’re opposites in dress too—like Holly and Violet, colorful versus dark.

I’m looking at the same guy as pictured with Madison. Undoubtedly.

Violet picks up the photo and studies. “Discover where this is, Rowan.”

“The family home. I already got the address when looking into the Pipers,” I say.

With a nod, Violet sets that down and moves another picture to look at. “Just Sarah and Robert in this one.”

“They’re at a party, maybe?” suggests Leif. “Both have bottles that look like beer or mixers.”

“Who’s in the background?” Grayson takes the photo. “There’re other kids.”

“Difficult to tell. Weird place though,” I say and tap the image. “Are they in a cave?”

The individuals in the image are too close to see the space behind them clearly, but the uneven walls appear to be gray and brown limestone, familiar for this area. Sarah and Robert perch on makeshift seat created by old, worn-out blankets on large, flat rocks, around a small fire pit made of stones.

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