very sharp,” Officer Grady continues. “It’s what was used to hurt Cora. Why were you holding it, Violet?”
“We just brought it in case we needed to protect ourselves from Wither,” she murmurs, her finger still sweeping across her thigh. I’m momentarily stunned. The girls brought the weapon that was used on Cora? None of this makes any sense.
“Violet,” Officer Grady says, “look at me.” Violet lifts her chin and meets his eyes. “There is no such thing as Joseph Wither.”
“There is,” Violet whispers.
“The real Joseph Wither died a long time ago.”
“No, he didn’t.” Violet shakes her head. “He can’t die.”
“He must be real.” I try to defend her. “I mean, maybe someone told her he was Joseph Wither, but he was lying.”
This is taking too long. For every minute that Officer Grady spends sitting in our kitchen questioning Violet, this Wither person is getting farther and farther away.
Officer Grady looks pissed but I push back from the table and stand. “I’ll be right back.” I hurry from the kitchen and up the stairs and into the bedroom. I pull the sketchbook from beneath the bed and run back downstairs.
“See.” I thrust the sketch in front of Officer Grady. “Maybe this is who you should be looking for.”
“Mom!” Violet exclaims, trying to intercept the sketchbook. “That’s mine. You can’t go through my things.”
Officer Grady takes the book in his hands and Max slides off the kitchen counter to look over his shoulder.
“Who is it?” Officer Grady asks.
“Joseph Wither,” Violet says in a small voice.
“Why did you draw the picture of him, Violet? How do you know what he looks like?” Officer Grady asks.
“For a school project.” I speak for her but Grady gives me a sharp look that quiets me.
“We found a picture of him in an old yearbook at the library,” Violet explains.
Officer Grady rubs a hand over his mouth and drops the sketch pad onto the table with a thunk. “Joseph Wither would be in his nineties by now and he most definitely wouldn’t look like this anymore.”
“He does,” Violet persists. “He does look like this.”
“We found your fingerprints on the weapon, Violet.”
“Whoa,” I say in disbelief. “Of course you did. We all know that she picked up the knife or whatever the hell it was after she found Cora.” Officer Grady looks at me skeptically. “What are you saying? You think that Violet did this?”
“What am I supposed to think?” He lifts his hands like he’s had it with all of us and sighs. “We have some text exchanges between Violet and another child that are pretty damning. Violet’s fingerprints are on the weapon used to stab Cora and Cora’s blood was all over her hands and clothes. What does that look like to you?”
“It looks like this conversation is over,” I say, voice shaky with rage. “Get out.” My mind is reeling. What text messages? The other child has to be Jordyn. So that’s why they took Violet’s phone at the emergency room. They were looking for evidence.
“Why would Violet hurt Cora?” Max speaks up. “She’s her best friend. Violet wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“I don’t think Violet is being as forthcoming as she can be.”
“What about someone pretending to be this guy? Apparently everyone in town seems to know who he is. And anyone could have known the girls were doing a project about him. What about her classmates or the teacher? Did you question Mr. Dover?”
“Mom,” Violet says, mortified.
“Shh, Violet,” I tell her.
“There are aspects of the case that I can’t discuss with you,” Officer Grady says. “But I have to ask tough questions even if they are upsetting.”
“What if I refuse?” I lower my voice. “What if I don’t let you talk to her?” I challenge.
“Then I’ll have to get a warrant.”
“What does that mean?” I ask. “You’ll arrest her?”
“I don’t want it to come to that but if I have to...” Officer Grady’s icy voice lets me know just how serious he is.
“Mom?” Violet says, bursting into tears. “I don’t want to go to jail,” she cries. “Please, don’t let him take me.”
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her. To Grady I snap, “Don’t you think she’s scared enough? Now you have to threaten to arrest a twelve-year-old?”
“All I’m asking for is for some cooperation.” Grady turns to Violet, who has gotten up from her chair and backed away from the table. “Don’t you want to help your friend, Violet?” he asks.
Violet nods but her eyes flick toward the front door. I know what