There were not many people.
My ex-wife had it. I had given it to her years ago, back when Violet was still in elementary school. My sister knew it because she sometimes watched Violet when I was deployed. And there were two adults I trusted enough to let them into the house without asking permission every time.
Violet’s mother.
And her mother’s older brother, Daniel.
Keller wrote both names down.
“Anyone else?”
I shook my head.
Then I remembered something.
“Violet might have changed her code.”
“Recently?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
Because Violet had been acting differently during our last few calls.
Not frightened exactly.
Careful.
I had noticed it, but I had been halfway across the world and convinced myself that sixteen-year-olds simply became harder to read as they grew up. Whenever I asked whether something was wrong, she gave me that same brave smile.
