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Violet shakes her head. “No.”
“And yet they livestream their lives?” I mutter. I’ve had to reprimand more than one student during our field trips.
“I don’t believe contacting campus police would be any help at this point,” Marcus says. “Not until we have a suspect. Are there any other details you can tell me, Violet?”
“There’s a note taped to the book. It’s how I knew for sure it wasn’t from Etienne.”
I would never give her such a cheap-looking coloring book. Only the best for my little professor.
“What does the note say?” Marcus asks, sounding excited by a new clue.
Violet picks up the coloring book from the desk, with an adorable look of disgust on her face, and flips open the note.
“‘Something special for tonight,’” she reads, and I squeeze her hand. “It’s signed xoxo.”
“Fucker,” I mutter, and Violet gives me a soft smile.
Violet’s voice is flat and defeated when she asks, “How does he know unicorns are my favorite?”
“I don’t mean to frighten you,” Marcus says cautiously, “but I think it’s clear it’s someone who’s seen you and the girls out on Wednesday night, which is a good thing. It gives us a place and a group of people to look more closely at.”
“Maybe she should skip tonight?”
“No,” Violet says stubbornly, pulling her hand from my grasp and crossing her arms. “I can’t miss cocktails and coloring.”
“Sorry, Etienne,” Marcus says, sounding amused. “The quickest way to find him is Violet sticking to her normal routine and not tipping him off we’re investigating.”
“Exactly.” Violet nods in agreement.
“I’m going with you,” I tell her firmly.
“Daddies aren’t allowed.”
I arch my eyebrows at her. “Really?”
“Yes.” She returns a stubborn tilt to her jaw.
“I have the night off,” Marcus interjects. “Why don’t we Daddies have dinner at the bar while the girls enjoy their night out?”
“I’ll agree, but there will be conditions,” I tell Violet sternly.
“I’d like to have the book checked for prints,” Marcus interrupts. “It’s a long shot, but we might get lucky.”
“Violet has a class this afternoon, but I don’t, so I’ll bring it by the station,” I tell him.
“Put it in a bag and try not to add any more prints to it,” he instructs. “We may still need you to come to the station, Violet, for elimination prints.”
“Mine are already on file,” she informs him casually.
I can’t help but scowl at her. Why are my little girl’s fingerprints on file with the police department?
Seeing my look, she giggles. “I taught at a kids’ summer camp this year.”
“Excellent. I believe he has made his first and last mistake.” Marcus sounds almost cheerful.
We end the call with my promise to stop by the station shortly with the coloring book. I certainly don’t mind skipping my office hours this week.
I turn toward Violet, retaking her hand. “Have I told you how gorgeous you look today?”
