Before She Was Found - Heather Gudenkauf Page 0,57

stain the thin skin beneath her eyes and crusty sleep has collected in the corners.

I put my arm around her shoulders and she doesn’t pull away. For this I’m glad. Together we walk down the steps where Officer Grady, standing by the front door, is waiting for us. Boomer sniffs curiously at the soles of Officer Grady’s shoes and Max sits on the couch looking like he’d like to be anywhere but here.

“Morning, Beth, Violet.” He nods at us. “I heard about the vandalism. Any more problems last night?”

“Come on, I’ll show you,” I say and lead him back outside. I yank on one of the sheets and it comes floating down to reveal the graffiti.

“I’m glad you called it in,” Grady says, taking in the slash of angry words painted across the house.

“It’s scary,” I say, unable to keep my voice from shaking. “Did you find out who did it?”

“No, but we’ll stay on top of it,” Grady says as he helps me tape the sheet up again.

“I barely slept. All I can think about is what happened at the train yard and how someone is creeping around our house. I’m afraid for my kids.”

“We’ll do our best to have someone drive by your house several times throughout the day.”

“And night?” I ask hopefully.

“If it comes to that, yes,” Officer Grady assures me.

We head back inside. Officer Grady and Violet take a seat at the kitchen table and Max lingers in the entryway. I offer coffee to Officer Grady and he accepts. As I’m getting the coffee cup out of the cupboard and waiting for a fresh pot of coffee to brew I notice Officer Grady looking around the room. I try to see my kitchen through his eyes.

It’s outdated for sure with its counters and appliances courtesy of the early ’90s, but it’s clean and cheerful. Max’s and Violet’s school pictures hang on the refrigerator along with a math paper that Max got an A on and a picture of Boomer that Violet had drawn.

On the counter is the cookie jar that we hauled all the way from Algodon. It had belonged to my grandmother and had once been filled with cowboy and peanut butter cookies. Now it held store-bought sandwich cookies but Officer Grady wouldn’t know this. He eyes the pack of cigarettes and canister of pepper spray on the table and I gather them up and replace them with a steaming cup of coffee. “Any news? Have you caught anyone yet?” I ask.

He takes a cautious sip from his cup before answering. “Not yet. We’ve been canvassing the neighborhood nearest the depot and have been gathering evidence from the train yard. Hopefully, that will give us the information we need to solve who did this.”

Across from him Violet fiddles with the salt and pepper shakers, clinking them together and creating an annoying beat. I cover her hands with mine to still them and she returns the shakers to their spot in the center of the table and places her hands flat atop the table.

“Why don’t we get down to business?” Officer Grady says, reaching into his pocket for a small notebook and pen. “I have your permission, Beth, to ask Violet questions about the events of April 15 and 16, correct?”

I nod. “Of course. We want to help in any way we can.”

“Violet, you said yesterday that someone named Joseph Wither was the one who hurt Cora. How do you know this?”

Violet shrugs. “I don’t know. I just do.”

Officer Grady looks like he wants to push further on this and I don’t blame him. I want to know the answer, too. I think about the drawing of the young man in Violet’s sketchbook. Instead he pauses to take another sip of coffee and then leans forward in his seat, his elbows on the table. “Why don’t you tell me about the overnight at Cora’s house?” he asks conversationally. “What time did you get there?”

“Around six, I think?” She turns in her chair to look at Max, who has hoisted himself up onto the kitchen counter to sit. “That’s when you guys dropped me off, right?”

“Yeah, around six sounds about right,” Max says, a bit taken aback at being drawn into the questioning.

“How did you spend the evening?” Officer Grady asks. “What kinds of things did you and the other girls do?”

“The usual,” Violet says in a quiet voice. Violet had only been on a total of two sleepovers when we lived in New Mexico. Since moving