The Certainty of Violet and Luke

Chapter 10

Violet

I've never been a fan of police stations. The noises: phones ringing, loud voices, commotions. It smells like takeout and I'm starving. It's driving me crazy and is bringing back the few times I had to visit some while I was growing up, both for myself the few times I got into trouble and for my parents' case. It's unsettling and making me fidgety. And it's not helping that it's taking forever. I've been sitting outside Detective Stephner's office for a couple of hours, waiting for him to show up and tell me it's time to go back - time to get this over with. I feel bad for Luke sitting out there in his truck, probably wondering where I am and I can't even call him since I left my phone at the apartment.

I think about going outside to tell him that maybe he should just wait for me at the apartment, when Detective Stephner comes strolling up to me from one of the cubicles. He has a folder tucked in his hand and a cup of coffee in his hand and is wearing a suit, the jacket open, revealing his tie with Christmas trees on it.

'You know it's not Christmas, right?' I elevate my eyebrows at him, sarcasm dripping from my voice as he tosses the coffee into the trash bin beside me.

His forehead creases as he sifts through some papers in his hand. 'Huh?'

I point at his tie. 'It's October, shouldn't those be like pumpkins or something?'

He distractedly glances away from the papers and down at the tie. 'Oh that.' He laughs, scratching his head. 'Yeah, my wife must have laid out the wrong one for me this morning.'

'Your wife lays your clothes out for you? How very nineteen fifties of you, and kind of sexist.'

He sighs, because I always do this to him - press his buttons. I'm not even sure why. He's not as bad as the detectives I've had to deal with in the past, but being here in the police station brings back too much painful memories for me and this bitterness sort of spills out.

'She likes doing it,' he replies with a hint of aggravation. 'I don't ask her to do it.'

I gesture at his tie. 'It looks really clear that she enjoys it, which is why she dressed you in Christmas stuff in October.'

'Why do you do this every time you come in?'

'What? Yank your balls?'

He gives me a blank stare. 'You know, one of these days that mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.'

I stare back at him, my expression matching his. 'That's for the words of wisdom.'

He sighs again, giving up. 'Okay, are you ready for this.'

I shake my head. 'Nope.'

He sighs again. 'Violet, we talked-'

I cut him off. 'I'll never be ready for it, but I'll do it. I was just stating a simple fact.' I stand up from the chair, my knees wobbling and my stomach bouncing with my nerves, a bundle of butterflies that must have awoken specifically for this moment.

'Alright, follow me,' he says, heading across the busy room full of cubicles and desks and toward a hallway with florescent lighting. There are still a lot of people at the station and I catch a few of them glancing up at me as I pass. I wonder if they know who I am, if they know my sad, depressing story. I wonder if it makes them afraid of me. 'Oh and I wanted to let you know that I got the package with the photo and am looking into it.'

'Okay ...' I'm barely aware of what he's saying as the reality of what's about to happen bears down on me. With each step, it feels like the walls are closing in, crushing, suffocating. I can barely breathe. Think. Function. This is it. I'm really going to go see the woman whose song has haunted my nightmare for years? How is it going to make me feel? Can I handle it?