“You’re not wearing your bracelet.”

She’d worn it every day since he gave it to her. She even slept with it, wanting a piece of him near her when he wasn’t. Its absence since the night on the dock was crushing. “I lost it.” So many untruths, but at least that one piece was true.

He pressed his forehead to the door frame and exhaled. “Violet, I don’t understand this.” His chin quivered and he shifted his jaw. “You have to tell me. Is there someone else? It’s the only thing I can come up with that makes sense.” His voice broke and he put his chin to his shoulder a moment. When he faced her, his eyes were damp, but his gaze was firm. “Tell me. Is there someone else?”

Violet thought of Trudy sitting in the window seat in the back bedroom overlooking the river. Day in, day out, not saying a word, her future cracked because of a man Violet should have protected her from.

“Yes.” Her fingers tightened on the door and she willed herself not to cry. Not yet. “There’s someone else.”

Frank’s eyes opened wide. He swallowed and took a step back. Nodded. “Okay then. Thanks for telling me the truth. Good-bye, Violet.”

She closed the door, slid to the floor, and put her face in her hands. Finally, she wept.

* * *

Roll call for the morning shift had just ended when Sergeant Webb rounded the corner from the kitchen and rapped his knuckles on the wall next to Frank. “Hey, Roby. My office, three minutes.” He was gone before Frank could answer.

Stopping by the restroom, Frank splashed a handful of cold water on his face. He pressed his hands against the cracked porcelain sink and looked up at himself in the mirror: haggard cheeks and red-rimmed eyes that spoke of lack of sleep. Hair badly in need of a close cut. A red splotch on his jaw where he’d cut himself while racing through his morning shave.

As water dripped off his chin, the door opened and two officers entered, full of rowdy laughter that made Frank’s head pound.

“Roby, you look like hell.” One of them approached the urinal on the wall.

“Thanks.” Frank dried his hands on a scratchy paper towel, tossed it in the garbage, then left the restroom and walked to the kitchen for a Styrofoam cup of bad coffee.

With nine seconds to spare, Frank knocked on Sergeant Webb’s door. The man looked up from his papers and nodded toward the chair in front of his desk. The chair was notoriously rickety, and Webb was well known for asking new guys to come into his office for a chat, then laughing when the chair didn’t hold up its end of the bargain. Frank eyed the folding metal chair, then sat gingerly on its front edge. The chair held, much to Frank’s relief and Webb’s obvious disappointment.

“Roby.” Webb licked the pad of his finger and flipped a paper over. “I got a cousin on the force over in Pensacola. He tells me they’re looking for new guys to join up. Seems they had a lean year. You interested?”