Tessa set down the baskets of burgers and fries, reaching for the sodas on the counter and plopping them in front of us. “Eat up.” Then she took off again.
Violet stared at the burger and she breathed deep.
Acting casual, I reached for mine and took a bite, waiting for her to do the same. We ate in silence, and I could tell she tried to go slow, but the girl was hungry. When we’d finished the burgers and fries, I ordered both of us apple pie with ice cream.
She winced. “Do all lawyers buy their clients lunch?”
“All the good ones do,” I lied.
She rolled her eyes.
I grinned. There she was. I waited until the pie arrived to dig deeper into her story. “Where are your parents?”
She stiffened but didn’t stop eating. “Never had a dad, and my mom died three years ago from a bee sting.” She shook her head. “Can you believe it? A stupid bee sting.” Her shoulders hunched. “Not that we were that close, but she was my mom. She might’ve had a small drug problem.” Violet’s eyes blazed when she looked up. “Yet another reason I’d never do freakin’ pot.”
I ate my ice cream for a while. “Where do you live now?”
“Over off Nineteenth Street with my great-aunt,” Violet said, not seeming to hold back any longer. “I tried foster care for a bit, but then she said she’d take me, and we do okay. She’s old and everything, but we kind of take care of each other.” She finished her pie and set down the spoon. “I just need to graduate and then figure out college. Everything will be okay.” It was as if it was a mantra she’d said more than once. More than once a day. “If I don’t go to jail,” she muttered.
“You’re not going to jail,” I said. While an attorney should never promise a client anything, there was no way this kid was going to jail.
The door opened, the bell above it jangled, and Detective Pierce strode inside, headed to the counter. He paid for a to-go bag, turned, and saw me. His eyebrows shot up and he loped our way, apparently not noticing the few female sighs in his wake. “Hey. Didn’t know you were here.”
Violet looked up and blinked.
Yeah, Pierce was good-looking in a surfer-dude-with-a-gun type of way. I introduced them. “What’s up?”
“The red truck used by the shooter fits the description of one stolen out of Missoula three days ago. Just had a sighting of a vehicle on fire around the lake road and was going to check it out. Want to come and identify it?” He reached into his bag and drew out a fry, taking a quick bite.
I glanced at Violet. “I was going to take Violet home. Do you have to be anywhere?”
“Nope,” she said, her puppy-like gaze on Pierce. “I’m on Christmas break. What truck are we identifying?”
“I’ll tell you on the way,” I said, scooting out of the booth. I didn’t have her entire story yet, and I wasn’t sure how much help she needed. Witnessing a burning truck and helping the police with a case might be good for her peace of mind, since she’d probably only seen the other side of the law when she’d gotten arrested and charged. Plus, this was the most animated I’d seen her.
She hedged by the end of the table, obviously at a loss with the amount of food we’d consumed and probable payment.
I tossed my debit card at Tessa, who was behind the counter. She knew my PIN number. In fact, we had the same one. “Just take it off the card, and I’ll get it when I bring back your Rogue,” I said, breezing by.
“You’ve got it.” She turned toward the register.
Before we reached the door, I handed my wool coat to Violet. “Here. Put this on.”
She leaned back. “I am not taking your coat.”
Her sweater was clean but old and worn. I pushed the coat into her hands. “I’m hot. Hot flashes.”
She accepted the wool. “Oh. Well, okay. I didn’t know you were that old.”
Pierce snorted and opened the door.
“Anna!” Tessa called.
I turned in time to catch her ski-jacket before it hit me in the face. “Thanks.”
“Bring that back with the car,” she said, grasping a full tray to balance over her shoulder.
Violet watched her. “Your sister is cool.”
