Officer Grady continues as if Clint hasn’t spoken. “He knocked the teeth out of her head. We got a guy back at the train yard looking for them.” Clint freezes in the doorway and the scowl slips from his face and Max looks like he’s going to throw up.

Though Officer Grady speaks in a low, measured voice, a red, angry flush has creeped up his neck. “Cora’s at the hospital in surgery right now with a plastic surgeon who is trying to put her face back together again, so if you can tell me where you were between midnight and 1:00 a.m., I can cross you off my list and focus on finding the person who did this.”

A look passes between Max and Clint. Oh, my God, I think, they can’t prove where they were last night. There’s no one who can vouch for their whereabouts.

“You’ve got nothing?” Officer Grady’s voice rises.

“Mom.” Max looks at me for help.

“Just tell him where you were,” I urge. “Just tell him the truth. This is important.”

“We were just driving around,” Clint says, all of his earlier bluster gone.

“Near the train yard?”

“No,” says Clint.

“Yes,” Max says at the same time.

“Which is it?” Officer Grady demands, staring at Max. “Yes, you were at the train yard where a twelve-year-old girl was attacked. Or no, you weren’t.”

“He’s trying to tell you.” I raise my voice. “Give him a chance.”

“Stop it.” Violet buries her face in her hands. “Please stop it. It wasn’t them.”

I reach across the table and tenderly pull her fingers from her face. “What did you say?”

“It wasn’t them. They didn’t do it,” she whispers.

Officer Grady takes a step toward us and this time I hold up my hand to stop him.

“Violet, do you know who hurt Cora?” I ask, still holding her hands in mine. She nods, hot tears plopping onto my knuckles. “Who? Who was it?”

She doesn’t speak. The only sound in the room is her faint crying. Even Clint looks uncomfortable.

“Please, Violet,” I say, dipping my head so I can see her face. She can’t bring herself to look at me. “Honey, this is important. If you can help Cora, you need to.” I lift her chin and wipe her tears away with my fingers. “Violet, it’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I told you—it was Joseph Wither,” she whispers.

“Honey, you know that he isn’t real, right?” I ask. I’m thinking that it might be some pervert pretending to be him or maybe Violet is just confused.

Clint laughs and I shoot him a look that silences him.

“Why do you think it’s Joseph Wither?” Officer Grady keeps his gaze on Violet. “Could it have been someone who said he was Joseph Wither, Violet?” he asks.