“You’re the first person I’ve talked to who’s had anything nice to say.”

“I was her lone defender even back then. I can see now she had a self-destructive streak. She was impulsive, or maybe ‘reckless’ is the better word. People were attracted to her and repelled at the same time.”

“How so?”

“I think she reminded them of all the things they wanted but didn’t have the courage to pursue.”

“Was she happy?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. She was desperate to get away. She was sick of being poor and sick of Foley’s knocking her around.”

“So you believe she left town?”

She blinked at me. “Of course.”

“How’d she manage it?”

“The way she managed everything else. She knew what she wanted and she outfoxed anyone who got in her way.”

“Sounds ruthless.”

“Again, that’s a matter of semantics. I’d say ‘determined,’ but it sometimes amounts to the same thing. It about broke my heart that she left without saying good-bye. Then again, I had to say ‘Go and God bless.’ I wasn’t that articulate at fourteen, but that’s how I felt. I couldn’t bear it for my sake, but I was glad for her. Do you know what I mean? She saw a chance and she took it. A door flew open and she zipped right through. I admired her for that.”

“You must have missed her.”

“It was awful at first. We always talked about everything and suddenly she was gone. I was crushed.”

“What’d you do?”

“What could I do? I learned to get by on my own.”

“She never got in touch?”

“No, but I was so sure she would. Even if it was a postcard with one line, or no message at all. A postmark would have been sufficient. Anything to let me know she’d made it to wherever. I used to imagine her in Hawaii, or Vermont-someplace completely different than this. I haunted the mailbox for months, but I guess she couldn’t take the chance.”

“I don’t see how a postcard could have put her in jeopardy.”

“You’re wrong about that. Sonia, the woman at the post office, would’ve spotted it when she was sorting the mail. I wouldn’t have told a soul, but word would’ve gotten out. Sonia was a blabbermouth, which Violet well knew.”

“You were the last person who had any substantial contact with her.”

“I know and I’ve thought about that night. It runs like a loop in my head. You ever get a song on your brain and no matter what you do, it keeps playing and playing? That’s how it is with her. Even now. Well, maybe not so much now. The images do fade, but you know what? I smell violet cologne and bang, she’s there again. It brings tears to my eyes.”