Once I know that Violet is okay, I plan on raising hell with Officer Grady. There must be policies and procedures on how to question child witnesses. Violet could have been killed by a maniac. As far as I’m concerned, the police department can foot the bill for this emergency room visit.

Finally, Max comes through the entrance carrying the glass jar filled with slips of paper. “Is she okay?” he asks. “Have you seen her?”

“No, I haven’t heard anything yet. This is ridiculous. She isn’t hurt, she’s scared. We may as well sit down until they call us.”

We sit and Max reaches his hand inside the narrow opening and pulls out a piece of paper, unfolds the slip and begins to read.

“I can’t wait for Friday! What should I bring with me? I hope we go somewhere warm. I’m tired of the cold.”

“Weird,” Max says, tilting the paper so I can look at it. The handwriting is large and embellished with loops and hearts and exclamation points. A young girl’s writing but not Violet’s, thank goodness. He pulls out a handful of slips and begins to read one after the other.

“I think my mom will miss me but I don’t know about my dad. He hardly knows I’m here, anyway. My sister won’t care at all. I guess I should be sadder, but I’m not. Do I need to bring a coat? What about food?

“I think I’ll bring my journal. That way I can write about our trip. I wish I could bring my cat. Do I need to bring money? I have about two hundred dollars saved up.

“It sounds like whoever wrote these was planning on running away,” Max says as he scans the final scraps of paper.

“Are they all written by the same person?” I ask.

Max nods his head. “It looks like it. What do you think is going on?”

I think about what Violet said about Cora communicating with someone claiming to be Joseph Wither online. “We’ll give the jar to Officer Grady. He’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Why is Violet acting so crazy?” Max asks. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But she’s scared. Terrified. She keeps going on and on about Joseph Wither.” I just can’t believe that Violet thinks he’s real. She stopped believing in Santa Claus and the tooth fairy in second grade.

Max shrugs. “I don’t get it, either, but there are kids in my class who swear that Ouija boards work and that they can summon evil spirits. Maybe she just got caught up in it all.”

“Maybe,” I say, but I’m not buying it. “At any rate, someone attacked Cora and Jordyn Petit knows more than she is letting on.” My head is pounding and I search through my purse for some aspirin.