“It’s okay,” I tell her. I hand her my phone. “Go sit down and play a game on my phone. Don’t worry.” Violet reluctantly moves toward the bench, sits down and begins tapping at the phone’s screen.

Nikki’s sister gravitates toward Violet. “Where are your shoes?” I hear her ask as she joins Violet on the bench.

“Hello? Anyone back there?” Lorena says more loudly. “Where is my daughter?” She turns back to me. “I don’t have time for this. I have to go to work.”

A woman wearing a police uniform with the name Wilson stitched across the front pocket comes into the room. Her blond hair is braided into a long rope that hangs down her back. “We’ll be with you in just a minute, folks,” she says. “Please be patient.”

“Where is my daughter?” Lorena asks again, not budging from her spot in front of the counter. “I want to see her now.”

“Take a seat,” the officer says with forced patience. “We’re in the middle of an attempted murder investigation. I’ll call you when we’re ready.”

Her words slam into me like a fist. Attempted murder. “I’d like to see my son, too,” I say. “He’s not under arrest, is he?” Next to me Violet is tugging on my sleeve. “Just a minute, Vi,” I tell her.

To the officer I say, “I want to see my son. Now.” My voice holds more courage than I feel. My heart is banging in my chest now. I have visions of Max handcuffed and sitting in a cell somewhere in the building and it’s all I can do to not climb over the barrier and search for him.

“Settle down,” the officer says with exaggerated calm that makes me want to yank her braid. “He’s not under arrest and no one questioned him. He wasn’t talking, anyway.” She disappears through another door and Violet pulls at my arm again.

“Violet, just wait!” I snap just as Officer Grady reappears.

“Come on back, ladies,” he says, holding the door open so we can pass through. “Last door on the right.”

I rush down the hallway with Violet at my heels and come to a stop in the open doorway of a conference room. Max, Nikki and Clint are slouched in chairs arranged around a long, scarred wooden table that fills most of the small room.

“Max, are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says. He looks tired, bewildered and a bit scared but no worse for wear. His curls have lost some of their spring. A sure sign that he’s been running his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit he’s had since he was little.

Coming up behind me, Lorena starts right in on Nikki. “Where the hell were you all night? You know I have to get to work and I can’t leave your sister alone.”