DANI“A
unt Dani, get in here,” Violet demanded from the living room. “The small town chef chopped off his wife’s head and hid it in the restaurant freezer. For two years!”
Dani pulled the steaming popcorn bag out of the microwave. “Oh, my God. I’ll be right there.”
Murder had bonded them. Second only to cooking. True crime was a family thing. Jack liked yelling at the non-union actors during the serial killer simulations. “Fuckin’ cracker, don’t bury the next-door neighbor in your own backyard.” He didn’t always remember that it was reenacted.
Was it bad that she loved sharing murder with Violet? That she’d grown accustomed to those big, warm eyes hidden behind giant frames, the sharp tone and edgy retorts? Violet was smart. At night, Dani stood in Violet’s doorway, watching her chest
