And my scalp began tingling.

The previous day, in Mr. Simmons’s office, after she’d returned the handgun to the drawer where Trey had found it, Violet had slipped the key to the top desk drawer into the pocket of the black pants she’d been wearing. But Violet was a planner, and although she’d been far more helpful in the last two days than I ever would have expected her to be, she did know these spirits better than we did. And I was absolutely certain as my eyes scanned the parlor and came to rest on the sofa on which she’d slept that she had stowed the handgun beneath her pillow at some point before we’d all fallen asleep. She’d wanted to keep it close to her during the night, and now Jennie had directed my eyes to the exact place where it was stashed so that I’d know Violet had already taken precautions to protect herself.

And in doing so, she’d made it abundantly clear to me what role I would need her to play.

CHAPTER 17

THE PARKING LOT AT GUNDARSSON’S was even more packed when we arrived that day than it had been for the memorial. Storm clouds had rolled in, but the weather report didn’t predict rain until later in the afternoon. I sat in the back seat of Violet’s car next to Trey, who slouched down as low as he could, and with Violet behind the wheel, we waited in tense silence for Henry to emerge.

“This is taking way too long,” Violet mumbled. We’d all thought he’d be able to step inside, nab a sticker, and leave, but he’d been in there almost ten minutes. “Maybe he ran into that Eastern European gymnastics guy from yesterday.”

“Something’s wrong,” Trey said, shaking his head. “One of us should go in there and see if he’s okay.”

“No,” I said sternly as Violet unbuckled her belt. “If Mischa sees more than one of us in there, it’ll tip her off.” My scalp wasn’t tingling, and I popped one earbud into my ear and opened my radio app just to confirm with Jennie that there wasn’t reason for us to be concerned. “Jennie, is Henry in trouble?”

There was a long stretch of crackling static before I heard her reply: “I can’t tell. He’s too close to them, so I’m sensing danger, but that could just be general danger.”

Trey, whose eyes were fixed on the entrance to Gundarsson’s, said, “Look,” and shifted on the seat next to me. Mourners dressed in black had started exiting the funeral home. I saw Michael Walton walking hand in hand with Tracy Hartford, followed by two of Matt Galanis’s brothers, both looking uncharacteristically dressed up.

I said, “The prayer service must be over. This is normal. They’re just walking to their cars.”

We all breathed a sigh of relief when we saw Henry step through the doorway carrying a bright yellow sticker. He walked toward Violet’s car at a brisk pace, checking twice over his shoulder as if he feared Mischa was following right behind him. The second he opened the front passenger-side door, Violet barked, “Did she see you?”