steps from her cruiser and strides toward them.
An uneasy feeling settles in Thomas’s chest. “Hello,” he greets Officer Wilson with suspicion. “Do you have a few more questions for Jordyn?”
“Actually, it’s more than that, Mr. Petit,” she says, then pauses as if trying to find just the right words to say next.
“What’s going on?” Thomas asks. This time more forcefully, his mind spinning with questions.
Jordyn stands close to Thomas and remains silent.
Something is wrong, Thomas tells himself. “We just came from the hospital. Saw Cora. Jordyn and Cora had a nice visit, didn’t you, Jordyn?” Jordyn nods.
Officer Wilson shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I’m afraid I’m here to bring Jordyn into the station.”
“For more questioning?” Thomas asks. “That’s no problem. Jordyn’s happy to answer any more questions you have. We all want to find out who did this.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” Officer Wilson says. Her voice is cold, which concerns Thomas even more than the gun in her holster. “I’m here to arrest Jordyn for the attack on Cora Landry.”
“What?” Thomas laughs. A bark of disbelief. Jordyn’s eyes flick between the two of them. She does not understand what is happening.
“We have a witness who says they saw Jordyn push Cora down at the train yard as well as some other evidence,” Officer Wilson says.
Thomas looks at his granddaughter, who strangely is not protesting the claim. “There has to be some kind of mistake,” he says.
“I’m afraid it’s not a mistake. I have a warrant to search your home.” Officer Wilson hands Thomas a piece of paper.
Thomas thinks of the book bag shoved up into the fireplace. They can’t know about that, he tells himself. “Jordyn, go inside.” Thomas points toward the house. “Right now.”
“Come here, Jordyn,” Officer Wilson says, her voice steely. Jordyn looks between Officer Wilson and her grandfather, uncertain as to what to do.
“Who is this witness?” Thomas asks. “Jordyn already told you everything she knows. She wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“We’ve got some more evidence that we need to sort through and in the meantime Jordyn needs to come with me,” Officer Wilson says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone.
“You’re calling for backup?” Thomas asks, stepping forward. “Seriously?”
“Relax, Mr. Petit. I’m not going to call for backup unless you do something stupid. I want to show you something.” She taps her phone and turns the screen so Thomas can view it.
“Jesus Christ,” Thomas murmurs as he rubs a hand across his face. “Jesus Christ, Jordyn.”
“What?” Jordyn asks in a soft voice and Officer Wilson tilts the phone so Jordyn can see.
It’s a photo of the three girls standing in front of what appears to be a boxcar scribbled with graffiti. It’s dark out and the three girls are smiling, mugging for the selfie that Violet Crow is taking. But it’s what is in Jordyn’s hands that chills Thomas to the bone. Jordyn, wearing the light blue fleece jacket that had the blood on the sleeve, is standing behind her two friends. In one hand is the strap of Jordyn’s book bag and in her other, poised above Cora’s head, is a knife. She has a mischievous grin on her face.
“Someone grabbed the shot from Snapchat,” Officer Wilson says, putting the phone back in her pocket. “Now you can see why we need to bring Jordyn to the station.”
“Jordyn?” Thomas’s voice cracks. “You said you left before you got to the train yard.”
“No,” Jordyn says, shaking her head. “I didn’t. I didn’t do it, I promise. Cora pushed me first. I just pushed her back. I swear I didn’t stab her.”
“I believe you,” Thomas says but there’s no conviction behind his voice. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it all straightened out.”
Another police car pulls up and a male officer steps from the vehicle but keeps his distance. “Jordyn Petit,” Officer Wilson says, “you are being arrested for the attempted murder of Cora Elizabeth Landry.”
Thomas’s chest constricts with fear. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used in a court of law,” Wilson continues.
“Hey,” Thomas says, trying to step in between Jordyn and the officer but Wilson stops him with an icy look.
“Grandpa?” Jordyn cries out as Officer Wilson guides her by the elbow toward the police car. “Grandpa, I don’t want to go.”
“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”
“No!” Jordyn whimpers.