“Right now, I have to take a shower and get some sleep,” I said after tapping to send my message assuring Henry that I was fine. “I’m not even thinking clearly anymore.”

“But we’ve only got tomorrow!” Violet argued. “If we don’t figure this out before the funeral, we probably won’t have a chance to even see Mischa again before you’re scheduled to leave. I mean, who knows where she’ll go after tomorrow? Either she could leave town with her uncle or just… vanish.”

From the back seat, Trey said, “McKenna’s right. We’re not going to come up with any good ideas right now.”

“Okay,” Violet said as we pulled up to the security gate on the outskirts of her property. “Your call. But we’re getting up early.”

My scalp was tingling and I sensed that Jennie very badly wanted to tell me something, but I didn’t take my phone out of my pocket, and I did my best to block her out. If she thought we should find a way to kill Mischa, I didn’t want to know.

Violet led me up to her bedroom and set out a clean towel for me. I’d been there before, the first time she’d invited me over to bake cupcakes, but I’d forgotten how oddly sophisticated it was in decoration for a teen resident. Her bed had a natural, rustic oak headboard and footboard, and it was covered by a white pin-tucked comforter. Neatly framed concert posters of 1980s bands like the Cure and New Order hung on the walls, and plush gray carpeting covered the floor. A wide desk with an enormous iMac screen atop it was arranged so that Violet could gaze out at the gardens through her windows whenever she sat there doing homework. Bookshelves lined the opposite wall, and at the foot of Violet’s bed was a beautiful wooden chest that perfectly matched her bed frame.

As she opened the door to the adjoining bathroom, she said, “I’ll leave a change of clothes out for you. You smell kind of smoky. I can wash your clothes tonight if you want.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, closing the door behind me. I wearily undressed and thought to myself how odd it was that Violet was turning out to be so surprisingly… likable. For the last six months of my life, I’d put so much energy into hating her that I didn’t even want to admit to myself that I’d never really had a chance to get to know her before terrible things began happening. As I stepped beneath the piping-hot water, it crossed my mind that she really wanted to make amends.

But I was too exhausted to contemplate whether or not Violet had ulterior motives. It seemed obvious that she might, especially if her own long-term health was in danger. Instead, my thoughts drifted toward the idea that I was washing the smoke and ash of all of my most beloved possessions out of my hair and off my skin. It was odd to think of the detritus of my childhood circling a drain at Violet’s house, but in many ways, it was practically metaphoric for the impending end of my life.