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“Do you have any idea whose homes Darla cleaned? Any at all? She ever talk about anyone scaring her or acting odd?”
Amy’s neck flushed red, and she fidgeted, looking at her jeans. “No. I don’t know anything about that.”
Lies.
Why? “Someone she cleaned houses for might be the killer. They might have killed Tillie and Atta too. She never once told you where she was going or whose houses she cleaned?”
Amy shook her head.
Violet tamped down her temper; she was getting nowhere, and the fact Amy was withholding information told her enough. She was either protecting someone, or she was afraid of someone. “We’re gonna look around now, okay? Detective Owsley look around?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Nobody fingerprinted anything?”
“We thought she’d run off. No one suspected she was...had been...” She sniffed and covered her face.
“That’s all for now, Miss Miller. You’re free to go. We’ll lock the door.”
She nodded, and as they entered Darla’s room, they heard the front door open and close.
Violet snapped on her gloves, and John took a few photos. “Who knows if this room’s been disturbed since she went missing.”
“Who knows if anyone stole incriminating evidence.” Violet heaved a sigh and started in her nightstand drawers. Books, junk, flashlight, gum. Nothing of importance. “Find anything significant?”
John poked his head out of the tiny closest. “No.” He felt around the inside, hunting for hidden spaces or boxes. “Unless the pink bunny counts?” He held up a raggedy childhood toy and shook it. “Kinda looks like one Stella carried around when she was two. We had to tote that thing all over creation. Child wouldn’t nap without it.”
Violet noted the joy in John’s voice when he talked of his little girl. It was genuine and pure. Stella had no idea that someone loved her beyond words, so much it came through like a ray of light from his warm brown eyes. No one had ever spoken with joy or even a hint of happiness when discussing Violet. The emptiness turned her insides cold.
“She has no idea what she has in you, John. Or...maybe she does.”
“You got kids?”
“Me?” Hardly. It wasn’t that she didn’t like children. They were entertaining and cute enough, but the awkwardness she felt around them was a little much. “No. I’m not cut out for motherhood. And that’s okay. I’ve never really thought much about them.”
“Oh.” His tone held a trace of disappointment, and he shook the bunny in his hands. “I can’t imagine life without Stella. I admit I was kind of freaked when I found out Callie was pregnant. She was too. She never—”
His abrupt cutoff said enough. Callie hadn’t wanted children either. Which explained why a new mom would go undercover for an undetermined amount of time in a dangerous environment. It could kill her, and it had.
Seemed selfish to Violet. But she rarely judged anyone. She had no room. She’d done some pretty horrible things.
Things she couldn’t undo or take back, and the worst part was she didn’t regret some of them. That’s why she wanted to track down Adam. Her gut told her if she could look into his eyes—same as her eyes—she’d know. She’d know if she was anything like him at all.
“Anyway,” John said. “You ever been married?” He tucked the bunny back in the closet and dug around in the shoes. “I used to hide things in my shoes as a teenager.”
“Yeah? What kinds of things?”
“Cigarettes.” He laughed. “I was quite the rebel. Gave my parents a real run for their money. I figured my dad smoked, so I should get to as well. I grew out of it.”
“I never smoked.” She’d always been conscious about her health. If she ever got sick...she’d have no one to care for her. But that was too depressing to share. “I never married either.”
“I’m surprised.”
“That I never smoked?” She liked teasing him. It was easy, and he always seemed to know when she was making a joke. Fiona still had to ask, and she spent every day with that woman.
He chuckled and stood, his knee cracking, but she didn’t remark. “Never married.”
Violet had occasionally dated, but it was a rare thing. Never lasted long. “I scare men.”
