Sol and Officer Morris have a very “kids these days” sort of laugh between them, but the younger woman, Officer Harrington, stays as stoic as ever, glancing past Sol toward the cabin windows.
“Mind if we step inside?” she asks. “Take a look around.”
Sol frowns at her. “Now, I hate to have to ask, but do you have a warrant?”
“Wedo not,” she says.
“Then I’m afraid I have to say no,” he says, sounding quite apologetic. “Call me old-fashioned, but I care a lot about my privacy. It’s why I’m out here, after all. I like being off the beaten path.”
Officer Harrington nods but says nothing.
“I do appreciate the concern for my little girl here and her cousins,” Sol says. “I’m not sure why anyone thought they were in a bad spot, but I’m happy to get them out here to show you they’re just fine.”
The cops agree that they’d like to check on my “cousins,” so Sol pokes his head inside and calls for Violet and Lily. There must be some sort of plan in place I’m not aware of, though, because Violet, whose blond hair and blue eyes make her the most plausibly related to Sol and me, is the only one who comes. She lies and says her sister is taking a nap.
Sol turns to the officers. “Do you need us to wake her up?” he asks.
“No need for that,” Officer Morris says before turning to Violet. He asks her a few questions, and she answers with a sweet smile and soft voice I’ve never heard from her before.
“I asked my uncle if I could come stay here after a bad breakup,”she explains when they ask what brought her out into the hollow. “I needed to get offline, shut off my phone, all that stuff. And Uncle Sol offered to let me come out here. I ended up liking it so much, I stayed a while and told my sister to come, too. We’ve been treating it like a vacation. And with Iris showing up recently, it’s been like a big slumber party.”
Sol chuckles at that. “I’m outnumbered now,” he says.
I just listen, taking it all in. Violet’s a good actress, I’ll give her that. And this is clearly a story she’s had worked out for a while. But I can’t help wondering why. She’s a few years past eighteen. It’s not like she’s at risk of being dragged back to a home she hates.
I decide not to question it further, though, because it’s working. The cops listen to her and seem fairly satisfied by her story. Between that and Sol’s natural charm, I don’t think they are so worried about our well-being anymore.
“We’re sorry to have bothered you,” Officer Harrington says.
“Y’all have a nice night.” Officer Morris gives a nod before turning to walk back to the driver’s side of the cop car.
“You too,” Sol says.
“Drive safe!” Violet calls in an uncharacteristically friendly voice that sends a shiver down my spine.
Sol and Violet head back inside, and I’m about to follow themwhen I feel a hand on mine. I look down just as the female officer slips something into my palm. And then she’s gone—hurrying down the steps to join her partner in the car.
I open my fingers. It’s a business card with her name and phone number on it.
Officer Jessica Harrington, Culverton Police Department.
I stare at it for a moment, tempted to rip it in half and toss the pieces into the snow. But something holds me back, tells me to keep this for now.
“Iris?” I hear Sol call from inside.
I pocket the card and go in, closing the cabin door behind me.
Sol is standing by the fire now. His friendly expression is gone, replaced by that same stony face I saw looking out the window earlier. When he speaks, it’s with his usual accent, only the tone is deeper, darker, and far more tense than I’m used to hearing it.
“The old man couldn’t mind his own business,” he says, more to himself than to me.
Lily, who’d been waiting for us in the living room, walks over and places a gentle hand on Sol’s arm, looking up at him with her big, brown eyes. “I’m sure he thought he was doing the right thing,” she says. “He was just worried.”
“He’d have no reason to worry ifsomeonehadn’t got caughttrying to steal,” Violet sneers, arms folded over her chest as she stands, straight and rigid as a ruler, in the kitchen doorway.
All eyes in the room turn on me. Fear creeps up into my throat. This is my fault, and they are angry at me. They’ll kick me out. Send me away before I’ve ever even gotten to my second trial. Because I could have ruined everything. I could have put the younger girls in danger.
I try to swallow it down, but my voice croaks as I say, “I … I’m sorry.”
