“I just popped the lock on the front door with a credit card. Not a big deal. And only because I knocked for like five minutes, and Trey wouldn’t open the door,” Violet said defensively. “You should really tell your mom’s friend to get a dead bolt installed. This quaint little town isn’t nearly as safe or as welcoming as you all like to think it is.”

“Sorry,” I told Trey though the space in between the front seats. I was trying to compartmentalize my emotions to stay focused on the biggest issues I faced, but thinking about all of the events of the day threatened to make me burst into tears. “I don’t know if Violet told you, but my house burned down today right after we confronted Mischa.” I stopped speaking as I felt myself choke on the phrase burned down, knowing that sobs weren’t far behind.

“Violet told me everything,” he said to relieve me from the burden of having to explain in greater detail. He reached forward to rub my neck under my hair. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. It’s just not fair.”

I knew what he was implying: It wasn’t fair that my mom and I were being punished for what his and Violet’s grandmother had done. But there wasn’t time to bemoan injustice. And even though I was feeling less chilly toward Violet, I still didn’t want her to see how devastated I was. So I concentrated on the present moment and the fact that we were headed to the Simmons mansion with no plan in place. “Well, apologies for the mystery and drama. But it wouldn’t have been safe for you to have stayed at Glenn’s, not even overnight. My mom’s probably going to drive over there first thing in the morning to pick up some of his clothes because everything he had at our house is gone now.”

We reached the main intersection in town, right near the entrance to the shopping center where the grocery store was located. Violet slowed to a stop for the red light. We were in the exact location where Mom’s brakes had failed back in January and had caused her to get into an accident with Mischa’s mom.

“Were you able to figure anything out about what went wrong this afternoon?” Violet asked me.

I reached inside my jacket and withdrew the mason jar. Those two little drops of condensation were still clinging to the inside of the glass. “Current theory is that I accidentally pulled Mischa’s soul out of her body along with the evil spirits, and they went right back in and locked her out.”

Trey asked, “What does that mean? Is Mischa… dead?”

“Not dead, exactly,” I said with an exhausted sigh, praying that Mrs. Robinson was right about all this. “Just displaced. I’m pretty sure she’s right here, in this jar. And… probably really pissed off.”

From the back seat, Trey asked, “Where exactly are we going?”