“Morning,” Officer Wilson says. “Glad to see you home safe and sound, Jordyn.” To Thomas she says, “We’ve got a bit of a situation here, Tom, and I think that Jordyn might be able to help us out.”

Thomas’s relationship with the Pitch Police Department is made up of equal parts irritation and respect. Though the local cops tend to be hypervigilant in pulling his patrons over and running them through sobriety tests, Thomas had to admit that every time he called and asked for assistance with the occasional bar fight, they came right over. “We’ll do whatever we can to help. What’s going on?”

“We’re just at the beginning of the investigation so I don’t have much to tell you, but there appears to have been some kind of incident early this morning and there were some injuries.”

“Injuries?” Jordyn asks, gnawing on her thumbnail.

“I’m afraid so,” Officer Wilson says.

“Cora?” Jordyn asks. “How bad?”

“Do you know something, Jordyn?” Officer Wilson asks. “If you do it’s very important you tell me right now. One girl was beaten and the other one is in shock. Someone attacked them, Jordyn, and we need to find out what happened.”

Jordyn shakes her head and inches back toward her grandfather. “I don’t know anything.”

“But you’re okay? Not hurt?” the officer asks and Jordyn nods. “You were with Violet Crow and Cora Landry last night?”

“Yes,” Jordyn says in a hushed voice. “Are they going to die?” Thomas finds this question jarring, odd for a twelve-year-old, and he wants to shush her. Instead he puts a hand on her shoulder and Jordyn gives him a dirty look.

Officer Wilson rubs her fingers across her lips as if she might find the right words there. “They’re in good hands,” she finally says. “But we need your help now, Jordyn. Can you answer a few questions for me?”

When Jordyn doesn’t answer, Thomas responds. “Of course she’ll answer your questions, won’t you, Jordyn?”

Officer Wilson walks slowly toward Jordyn much like someone approaching an injured animal. “Take a seat, Jordyn,” Officer Wilson says and they situate themselves on round stools in front of the bar. “What time did you last see Cora and Violet?” Her voice is gentle, warm.

“I don’t know. It was late,” Jordyn says.

“Late last night?” she asks in a soothing voice.

“Yeah, I wanted to come home.”

“You left? Can you remember what time?”

“I don’t know, late. After midnight,” Jordyn says, her eyes fixed to the floor.

“You walked home all the way from Cora’s house?” Thomas asks his granddaughter. “That’s almost two miles away. Why?” His voice is sharp. Lately, Jordyn has been a mystery to him, with more sass than he’s equipped to handle.