Down on the dock, Jay was crumpled on his side, right at the edge of the wooden boards. Violet forced herself to put two fingers to his neck again, but it was the same as before. No life, no pulse. She would have known even without checking though. Death was written on his face in his open eyes and gaping mouth.

In her squatted position she drummed her fingers on her knees, thinking. The night was so thick with fog, it rolled and swirled over the river like a living, snarling beast. There were other houses on the river, sleeping homes with sleeping people, but they might as well have been a mile away for all she could see them. There was a sensation of isolation, as if she and Jay and this dock were the only things in all the world that mattered. And for a moment, they were.

The promise to her mother floated back to her again. So long ago, but so acute tonight. No one can know about this, Violet thought. It was my job to protect her. It is my job.

Violet gave Jay a great shove and rolled him off the edge of the dock, where he landed with a thud in the bottom of his boat. Clamping her lips together to ward off nausea, she lifted her head and raked in air through her nose, and her gaze fell on the brick wall. The loose bricks on the ground. She rose quickly and carried the bricks, a few at a time, from the wall to the edge of the dock, just next to the boat.

She didn’t even stop to consider what she was doing, only that she had to protect Trudy. She hadn’t done it before—she’d been fooled by Jay’s charm right along with Trudy, then she’d let Trudy stay with him, taking his fists, his words, his anger. It was Violet’s fault. But it wasn’t too late. She could protect Trudy now, and this was how she’d do it.

To keep from making too much noise, she stepped down into the boat and laid each brick carefully in the bottom. On Jay and all around him, making a mound in the center of the hull. Violet was sweating, panting, but she kept working. At one point she stumbled and fell back, scraping her wrist on a jagged rope cleat and catching herself on the motor at the back of the boat. The clasp on her bracelet popped open and the delicate gold treasure clattered to the bottom of the boat. When she picked it up she noticed the smear of blood on it. All at once, the magnitude of what she was doing took her by storm.

Two futures rattled against each other—one tucked away safely with Frank and the other always working to move past this awful, dark night.

Two futures, so different from each other, and here she was stacking bricks over a man’s dead body.

A sob threatened to break free as she realized she might as well be stacking bricks over her almost-future with Frank. That future was as good as dead.