Page 11 of A Violet Obsession

The female detective slams her palm flat on the table, and my chair scrapes when I jump.

“You’re wasting our time. Once our techs clean up that scrambled security footage, you won’t have any room to bargain. This is your opportunity to get another one of those deals for yourself.”

They’ve already made up their minds.

“I’d like to speak to my attorney before I answer any more questions,” I say in a monotone.

The male detective adopts a disappointed tone. “If there’s something you need to share, tell us now—” His words cut off when his partner pulls on his sleeve. He sighs, making sure I hear him mutter, “Poor girl’s making a terrible mistake. Once the lawyers are involved, we can’t help her.”

I don’t fall for it. I had a phenomenal lawyer the first time around, and I recognize every technique they’re using. I keep my mouth shut, even though I want to scream.

It’s not fair.

It wasn’t then. It’s not now. It never will be.

By the time my public defender arrives, I’m jittery and nauseous. How many hours have I been awake? I slept a few hours last night. Or was it two nights ago?

She’s young, probably not much older than me, but she knows her stuff and doesn’t waste a second. Within half an hour, she’s pressed the police to either charge me or let me go. And because there isn’t enough evidence to hold me—they searched me but there was no sign of the amethyst—they release me.

We’re halfway down the hallway when the older detective calls after me.

“No hard feelings, Ms. Jenkins.” His voice is casual in a way that makes my skin prickle. “But I wanted to make sure you knew—Joey Garza got paroled last week.”

It feels like the floor drops out from under me, and my left hand shoots out to catch the wall. My public defender reaches for my arm, but I barely feel her fingers because my body has gone somewhere else entirely.

Joey’s smarmy smile. The sound of his zipper. Clutching the knife under my pillow, praying he wouldn’t get through the new locks. And the way he looked at me from across the defendant’s table after I testified.

The detective is still talking. “Heard he still holds a grudge. Hope you weren’t trying to make up for what you did to him by setting up your employer to get him a quick score.”

My public defender squeezes my arm and steers me toward the elevator.

“Is it true?” I ask when the doors close. “About Joey being out.”

She meets my eyes. “I can check. If he’s been paroled, the conditions of his release should include a no-contact order given your testimony. If he approaches you, call the police immediately.”

I nod, knowing it means less than nothing.

If I see Joey, I’m dead.

7

FINN

Yanking my pants up over my hips, I button them one-handed, holding the phone to my ear while my sister barely pauses for breath.

“Come on, Finn.” Emma’s voice tilts into full begging mode. “She doesn’t have anyone else, and I think she’s in real trouble.”

I roll my eyes at my sister’s dramatics.

I picture Emma’s red-haired friend from childhood. From what I remember, Lily was a nice enough girl. Smart and quiet—but then everyone seems quiet next to my sister.

A memory pops into my head. Lily and my sister making bracelets at the kitchen table while my parents loudly debated the virtues of installing a fence over renovating the deck. I was building my first PC, and I’d come down for a glass of water, frustrated that I couldn’t get the front header pins to connect. She’d looked up from her pile of butterfly beads and asked, “How’s your computer coming? Did you figure out the motherboard thing?”

I remember staring at her and wondering how she knew what I was doing upstairs every night when no one in my family had asked me a single question about that build… unless she’d actually been listening when I tried talking about it at dinner last week.

Did I even answer her that day?

I frown, and shake off the random memory.