I know you tried, Dad.
Now I wondered what she had been trying not to tell me.
Keller’s radio crackled.
A detective was on the way.
While we waited, the second officer returned from the kitchen carrying a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a torn piece of paper.
“Found this under the table,” he said.
I looked at it without touching the bag.
There were only three handwritten words visible on the fragment.
VIOLET — 3:30 TODAY.
My stomach tightened.
“That isn’t my handwriting,” I said.
Keller stared at the paper.
“Could be a meeting reminder.”
“It could.”
But the timing was too precise.
Someone had expected Violet to be home at 3:30.
Someone had expected access.
Someone had expected her to open the door.
Then the detective arrived.
She introduced herself as Detective Mara Ellis and immediately asked whether anyone had moved anything inside the house.
“Only me and the paramedics,” I said.
