Ultraviolet ✔️

3.2

Chapter Three, Part 2

When Stan and Joel arrive, I don't turn to face the door right away. Instead, I keep my head down. The stress headache has already begun. Pain that stems from the back of my head works its way forward like a wildfire. I get them too often for it to be anything but expected. The migraines are another fun side effect of the powers I barely understand.

"Nice seeing you again," Joel says, dropping down into the seat beside me. "I must say, we have got to stop running into each other. I might have to buy you a drink if this keeps up."

"I don't drink," I say quickly. It's not true, but he doesn't have to know it.

"Oh," he says, but it doesn't stop there. "So how about a soda then? Lunch?"

Stan nudges me from my other side. "He's charming, I would go for it if I were you."

I know that my face is probably turning red at this moment, so I defensively cross my arms and grip my shirt in my fists tightly. It's not like I want to reject Joel, but I feel like I have no other choice. He's nice and all, but if fate is to be believed, I will kill him if he falls for me.

Thankfully, the chief interrupts. "You three can discuss your social lives later, we have a case you need to get working on."

"Sorry," we chorus.

"What's the damage?" Stan asks, reaching for the case file off the desk. He turns it over in his hands and angles it so that Joel can look as he flicks through it.

"Murder investigation, of course," Chief says flatly. "When isn't it a murder investigation?"

Joel clenches his jaw, his face shifting from his playful smile to a somber look. This is the world-class detective the NYPD picked up. This is the man who might make it easier to change destiny. It's funny how one person can have two contrasting personalities.

I've always found it funny, how detectives can seemingly change from people to machines in a matter of seconds. It's such a simple alteration: the smile falling from one's lips, eyes switching off their glimmer of hope and disappearing into a stone-cold expression.

I can't help but wonder if I turn stone-cold too when the visions take over.

"Where?" Joel asks.

Chief gives an address, but I'm not hearing it. I'm so lost in my head that every word spoken, though I can hear it, doesn't register as anything other than white noise. Like static in the back of my mind.

Stan gets my attention. "Let's get going, Violet."

I trail behind reluctantly, wanting to stay. My hair falls loose from my ponytail, swinging behind me as I struggle to keep up with them. Joel leads us as we walk, his strides long and purposeful.

"What's the rush?" Stan questions, chuckling as he speeds up to walk beside Joel.

Joel gives him a determined look, the set of his gaze commanding authority. "We're gonna get this girl justice as soon as possible. I figure it's a good idea to have a sense of urgency."

I know I'm supposed to avoid him, but there's nothing about him at first glance that merits any dislike from me. He's nice, genuine. He wants to help people and save lives. He cares. For Joel, there's no detachment from the job. It's almost personal for him, personal enough to provide motivation.

When we get to the garage, Joel decides to drive. He's got a standard black SUV issued by the department: a simple car that doesn't stand out too much in the streets. Stan climbs in the passenger seat, so I head around to the driver's side to get into the back.