The Certainty of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence #5)(4)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

My Violet? What the hell? Like she belongs to me. She doesn’t. Although, looking down at her, her green eyes shut, full lips slightly parted, black and red wavy hair hanging over my arm, her body curled up against me, trusting me to carry her inside, she feels like she’s mine.

‘If she fucking heard what you were thinking, she’d fucking castrate you,’ I mutter to myself. Violet has never been the kind of girl who likes to be owned by anyone. She’s always strong willed and independent and that is part of the reason why I fell in love with her. I’ve done the whole needy women thing and it bugs the shit out of me, hooking up with women who not only want direction but also want to cling to me. I didn’t hate it at the time. I loved having the control – needed it after spending most of my childhood being controlled by my overbearing, psychotic mother. But once I met Violet Hayes and saw a different side, felt the challenge, the connection, the desire to actually want someone on a more passionate level, I knew there was no going back. And I don’t ever want to go back to my life before Violet. I just wish we were on more stable ground; wished she could get over the thing with my mother, that my mother was in prison so Violet had a reason to try and heal herself; wished I could help her bring that wild, independent, strength back out. I don’t blame her for being angry, or for struggling, for being confused. She has every right and all I can do is help her until she’s ready to move on.

As I’m reaching the top of the stairway, I give a wave to the black car with tinted windows that I know is the police car. It’s here every night, parked near the curb, watching the place, thanks to Preston and his need to continuously taunt Violet with his texts and threats to kill her. This put the police on high alert since Preston is now a suspect for Violet’s parents’ murders.

As I arrive at our apartment door, I’m struggling to take out my keys without putting Violet down, when I notice a box in front of the door. At first I think it’s part of the mail, but then I lean down and notice that it’s addressed to Violet Hayes with no postage stamp, no return address, or even our address. I immediately get an uneasy feeling about it. Glancing around at the doors around us and then at the parking lot below, I hurry and get the door unlocked and us inside. After carefully setting Violet down on the sofa I make my way back to the box, deciding what to do. Pick it up and open it? Honestly, I just want to throw it away and never see what’s inside, because I know it has to be bad, that whatever is in there is going to just add to the shittiness going on right now. But at the same time, not knowing could end up being bad too. With great hesitancy, I step outside and bend down to carefully tear the tape of the box, noting how light it feels. When I open it up, I can see why. All that’s in there is a single photo, of Violet. My jaw instantly tightens and my fingers itch to ram my fist through the wall. In the picture, Violet is only wearing a bra and panties. She’s holding the short black dress that she’s wearing right now, ready to put it on, which means it was taken before we went to the party. From the angle, it looks like the picture was taken from somewhere across the street, either on the balcony of the restaurant round the corner from us, or from the two-story home that’s been for sale for the last month. It doesn’t say who took it, but I know who it’s from. The same guy who had a room full of pictures of Violet, who sends her the threatening texts – Preston.

I flip it over and read the sentence on the back. ‘Look how easy it was to get by them.’

My hands begin to tremble with rage. I’m assuming the ‘them’ is the police car.

‘Fuck.’ This is a new one for him, coming straight up to the door. I want to beat the shit out of the bastard, but it’s complicated when the bastard’s hiding. I think about going across the street and scoping out the house and restaurant, although I doubt he’s still there. But the police can probably already see me and I’m sure they’d wonder what the hell I was doing, which would be fine if they didn’t know who my mother was. They’re suspicious of me, like I might know where my mother is and I’m protecting her – that’s been made clear.

After locking the door, I jog down the stairs and across the parking lot to the police car parked in front of the curb of the home for sale on the opposite side of the street. When I rap on the window the driver rolls it down, looking wary.

‘Can I help you? ‘He’s probably in his late thirties, wearing civilian clothes, in his normal sedan, attempting to blend in, but clearly the disguise isn’t working very well.

‘I’m Luke … Violet’s boyfriend … ‘I clear my throat, realizing we’ve never even discussed what we are yet, but it feels right to say it. ‘This was left on the doorstep of our apartment.’ I give him the photo and the box.

The policeman looks the photo over then glances at his partner, a female officer, probably in her forties, wearing jeans and a collar shirt.

‘When did it arrive?’ he asks me, which is annoying as fuck. He should know this if he was actually watching the place like he was supposed to, since they were there already here when we left for the party, and the box had to have arrived sometime between then and now.

‘You tell me,’ I say, irritated, stuffing my hands in my pockets as I glance around, looking for something out of the ordinary. ‘You’re the ones who are supposed to be watching the place.’

He gives me a stern look as he reaches for his coffee in the console. ‘Don’t give me crap about how to do my job kid.’

‘I wouldn’t have to if you were doing your job.’ My gaze travels over to the house on the other side of the car. ‘It looks like it could have been taken from there.’ I point down at the sleepy looking restaurant. ‘Or there, which means it was close.’ I pause, my eyes narrowing at the policeman. ‘Which means he was close.’

The cop gives me a dirty look. ‘There’s no proof who left it yet.’

‘It’s kind of a given,’ I say. ‘Considering she has only one stalker.’

He tosses the box and photo to his partner. ‘Thanks for the input,’ he says. ‘But leave the police work to the professionals.’

He starts to roll up his window as I mutter, ‘Fucking douche’, before walking away. I should have just waited until morning and taken it to Detective Stephner. He’s more a professional and he cares more about solving this case’ cares more about Violet’s wellbeing.