Page 10 of A Violet Obsession

My stomach pitches, and for a second, I think I’m going to throw up.

Hide. Hide.

The world fades in and out. I’m running, then I’m not. I’m turning a corner, then I’m somewhere else entirely. The gaps are getting bigger—chunks of time are just gone—like fragments of a torn photograph glued back together wrong.

I’m tired. Too tired.

My legs give out, and I don’t know where I am, only that it’s dark and small and there are boxes pressing against my back. My fingers are wrapped around something hard. The floor is cold under my cheek, and I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.

The last thing I hear before everything goes silent is my heartbeat—too fast and too loud—drowning out the country music still playing somewhere far away.

Then, a bright light is shining directly into my eyes, pain spiking through my head.

“Found one! Back here—she’s got a knife!”

6

LILY

The detective with the coffee stain on his shirt leans back in his chair and flips through a file like he’s genuinely interested in my life.

He’s not.

“It’s unusual, isn’t it, Lily?” Not a real question. “For an ex-con to be in a position like yours? Handling all that expensive merchandise.”

“I didn’t go to prison.”

“No.” He exchanges a glance with his partner. “You didn’t… But that’s only because you cut a deal with the DA. Testified against the rest of your crew.”

I don’t bother correcting him. Presented with two shitty choices, I took the one that looked the least terrible in the short term.

“You changed your name at nineteen,” his partner adds, flipping a page. “Born Lily Stewart. Legally changed it to Jenkins—your uncle’s name. That’s the name on your résumé. The résumé that apparently left out a few things.” She chuckles. “And was extremely creative with others.”

My pulse climbs, shame and fear fighting for supremacy.

“Clairmont requires background checks for employees handling high-value items. How’d you pass it?” He already knows the answer.

“My record was expunged as part of the plea agreement.” I lick my lips.

“Expunged doesn’t mean erased, Ms. Jenkins. It means the average employer won’t find it. We aren’t the average employer. We’ve got the whole story.”

His partner leans forward. “You were the last person to come into contact with the necklace.”

My fingers grip the edge of the table. “That’s not true.”

“No?” The man lifts his pen as if he’s waiting for me to talk and he’s eager to take notes. Asshole. “Was there someone else there with you? Someone you knew?”

“I didn’t take the Veridian Amethyst.”

It was clear, the second they read me my rights, that they believe I gave the amethyst to the thieves before they escaped, and it doesn’t matter how many times I tell them I can’t remember. They’ve already decided I’m guilty.

I search my brain desperate to find a solid memory that can help prove I’m innocent, but there’s nothing. Just a terrible headache. I have a memory of a medic at the scene confirming I hadn’t suffered a blow to the head. Then I was in the back of a police cruiser, trying to remember when I was handcuffed and how I ended up in this room.

I don’t tell the two of them that time is slipping on me. They already think I’m a liar.

One second, I’m in this room under fluorescent lights, and the next I’m back in the lobby, and Bryce is lying in a spreading pool of blood. The next heartbeat, I’m eighteen and my uncle is telling me he’s sorry, as the life fades from his eyes.

I don’t know if I believed him then. I still don’t know now.