THE VOLUNTEER
Scarlett was absolutely elated. She’d talk the ear off of anyone who stopped by her room, telling them all about Avalanche and how much fun they had. My favourite was all the pictures. At least fifty, ranging from him making ice sculptures to the two of them making ridiculous faces.
When the excitement wore off after the first day, Scarlett asked me to stop by the next morning.
“I’m sorry, Miss Violet. I was so excited yesterday, I forgot to give you this.” She gestured to the ice dragon on her bedside table, giant smile on her face. “I told him that you loved dragons, so he asked me to give it to you.”
I picked it up and studied it. It was actually a dragon—four feet, two wings, and a spiky tail. The detail was incredible. Scales over the body, texture on the wings, even the claws were sharp. And it wasn’t cold, it just felt like a normal glass sculpture.
“It’s perfect.”
“Oh, and I took this while he was making it. He didn’t notice, but I thought you might like it.”
She grinned as she handed me a polaroid photo.
His right hand was moving away from his left, which held the beginning form of the dragon.
His eyes were focused and he was biting his lip.
He looked so…concentrated, nothing like he did in the rest of her photos—where he was smiling as he built her new favourite bear or making a goofy face while building her elephant.
This was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. Amber was right, I was in trouble. I really was liable to fall in love because I was delusional. Anytime a guy was somewhat nice to me, I developed a crush. Since I already had a crush on this guy, we were in falling in love territory.
“Thank you, Scarlett. I love it.”
“Thank you, Miss Violet. I had so much fun.”
“Anytime, kiddo.” I closed the door behind me.
A week later, I was just getting out of the shower when my phone started ringing.
It was 9:50 p.m. after a tough day. One of the little boys, Archie, at the hospital on 65th had succumbed to his illness.
His family had asked that I stay with them.
I’d helped him meet his favourite hockey player a couple months ago and apparently that made me family too.
I got home two hours ago, sat on my couch, and cried for an hour before I tried to wash off all my sadness with a shower. It didn’t work. It never did, but it was still my routine after a loss.
It was the hardest part of my job.
So I let my phone go to voicemail. It rang again; I let it go to voicemail again.
I got dressed in a pair of pajamas and headed for my room to crawl into bed and read the latest book Amber bullied me into buddy reading with her.
My phone rang again. It was 9:59. It didn’t matter, the person could call and call and call, but it would stop at 10. Except 10 came and went and my phone kept buzzing. Okay, my curiosity was officially piqued. I bookmarked my page before answering.
“Hello?”
“Hello, I’m sorry to call so late. Is this Miss Violet Hayes?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Forgive me, I… I’d rather not say unless I know I’m speaking to Miss Hayes. I received your name from… Let’s call him a mutual friend.”
My heart rate picked up. I didn’t like the sound of that at all.
“Can you tell me who this mutual friend is?”
“Maybe he’s more of an acquaintance than a friend, considering you just met him last week. This line isn’t secure, so again, I’d rather not say, but he’s blond, blue eyes, really cool.”
My heart was beating in my throat. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t mean Avalanche.
“Um…” I swallowed. “Yes, this is Violet. How…how can I help you?”
“I was hoping I could meet you. Our mutual friend said that he had a lot of fun and I just wanted to give you my information in case one of the kids would like to meet me.”
“Oh… Um… Okay… I still don’t know who’s calling… I know this isn’t a secure line but um… Sorry, I’m not quite sure what to say.”
“That’s quite alright, Miss Hayes. My friends call me John, but you may know me as The Weaver.”
I was going to throw up. No, I was going to pass out.
No, I was going to throw up and pass out.
The Weaver. He was part-serial-killer, part-sadist. The guy liked pulling the veins out of his victims. No one knew how he did it because his victims were either dead or so traumatized that they’d blocked it out of their memories.
He knew my name. He had my phone number. Avalanche gave him my name and my phone number. How did Avalanche even have my phone number and my full name? Oh my god! This had to be a prank, right? Please, Lord, let it be a prank.
“Miss Hayes, are you still there?”
I realized I’d been staring at my wall with my jaw hanging open for at least a minute.
“Um, yes, sorry, Wea—I mean Mr. Weaver. I’m here. I just… It’s a lot to digest.”
“Of course. If you have some free time tomorrow afternoon, please meet me at the place you found our mutual friend. I promise no harm will come to you.”
“I’m… Um… I mean no offence Mr. Weaver, but… Um…”
He laughed softly. “I understand your hesitation. I give you my word, if you choose not to come, I’ll be disappointed but I will understand. Either way, I promise no harm will come to you at my hand.”
“I’ll think about it, Mr. Weaver.”
“I appreciate your time, Miss Hayes. Have a wonderful night, I hope to meet you tomorrow.”