Across from him Violet fiddles with the salt and pepper shakers, clinking them together and creating an annoying beat. I cover her hands with mine to still them and she returns the shakers to their spot in the center of the table and places her hands flat atop the table.

“Why don’t we get down to business?” Officer Grady says, reaching into his pocket for a small notebook and pen. “I have your permission, Beth, to ask Violet questions about the events of April 15 and 16, correct?”

I nod. “Of course. We want to help in any way we can.”

“Violet, you said yesterday that someone named Joseph Wither was the one who hurt Cora. How do you know this?”

Violet shrugs. “I don’t know. I just do.”

Officer Grady looks like he wants to push further on this and I don’t blame him. I want to know the answer, too. I think about the drawing of the young man in Violet’s sketchbook. Instead he pauses to take another sip of coffee and then leans forward in his seat, his elbows on the table. “Why don’t you tell me about the overnight at Cora’s house?” he asks conversationally. “What time did you get there?”

“Around six, I think?” She turns in her chair to look at Max, who has hoisted himself up onto the kitchen counter to sit. “That’s when you guys dropped me off, right?”

“Yeah, around six sounds about right,” Max says, a bit taken aback at being drawn into the questioning.

“How did you spend the evening?” Officer Grady asks. “What kinds of things did you and the other girls do?”

“The usual,” Violet says in a quiet voice. Violet had only been on a total of two sleepovers when we lived in New Mexico. Since moving here, she spends nearly every other Friday night at the Landry house. It’s become like a second home to her, I think guiltily.

Cora has never spent the night at our house, though I tell Violet she is more than welcome to invite her over. It never happened, though. There is always an excuse as to why Cora never spends the night: Cora has a stomachache, the family is heading out of town early the next morning, they have family plans.

I thought I was sending Violet to a nice home, with nice parents.

“We ate pizza and watched a movie. Then we went to bed,” Violet says.

“What time did you go to bed?” Officer Grady asks.

“Eleven thirty, I think.”

I’m getting frustrated. Why does it matter what they ate and what movie they watched? I want to know what happened at the train yard. I want to know what animal went after the girls. I’m just getting ready to say this when Violet begins to speak again. “Then we got up again at midnight to go to the old train depot.”