Page 112 of Live To Tell

“Maddy was future-sighted and saw the evening of the dance. I suggested we take him out ourselves first—we planned to. Only Maddy took things into her own hands because she didn’t want the Whitegroves hunting me and Christine too.”

“Maddy saw and told you where the death would happen?” continues Rowan.

Annabelle shakes her head. “Unless Maddy decided to change the location, after the Spring Ball he took her to the place they hung out in private. A place that belonged to friends of the Whitegroves. That’s all she told us—I think she worried that we’d follow.”

“Do you know where that is?” asks Rowan.

“No. Never invited. Close to town, I think.”

“Then we need to find where and visit to the scene with the tiara,” says Violet. “Your psychometry might be clearer.”

Rowan pulls on his bottom lip but says nothing. I don't think I'd like to see what the tiara remembers either.

And there’s the small problem that we don’t have the tiara.

“And Viktor?” I ask. “What happened to him that night?”

“I'm not sure, but someone took the tiara when they took Maddy—that bastard probably.”

Violet chews on her lip, a crease of confusion to her brow.

“Why did you never tell Madison’s brother or parents any of this?” asks Rowan.

Annabelle gives him another disparaging look. “Firstly, how the hell could I tell them she took her own life, and secondly, I’m not supposed to know any of this, am I?”

“Thank you,” says Rowan. “For trusting us and giving us the papers.”

She shakes her head. “Nobody knows I had those things of Maddy’s.”

“If he's out there, I will find the witch,” she says solemnly.

“And kill the bastard?” she shoots back.

My heart jerks as she pauses before replying. Never a good sign.

“I believe the favored idiom in this case is 'death would be too good for him.'” Violet smiles sweetly. “Well, immediate death anyway.” She looks at Rowan. “I'm building quite a list, aren't I?”

Annabelle chews on her lip as if biting back words. She sighs. “The reason you can’t find him, Rowan? He doesn’t call himself Viktor anymore.”

“But you know his name? The one he uses now?” urges Violet.

Annabelle runs her tongue along her top teeth. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say?” she protests.

“Fear for my life?” she replies sarcastically.

“And?”

“And if I give you his name, can you promise me that Dorian Blackwood will find and arrest him for what he’s done? Deal with him?”

Violet doesn’t respond for a few moments. Dorian told her he wasn’t interested, but will this change his mind? I hope for Annabelle’s sake that it does.

“Yes.”

“How can I be sure?” Annabelle asks.

“Because my father is looking for a necromancer,” she says quietly.

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