Violet nodded, then took a deep breath as she moved past Chase Jameson, a.k.a. CJ—one of Coyote Ridge’s volunteer firefighters—who was sweeping up the glass. Someone had propped the door open and cleared out the broken shards already.
She ignored the crunch of glass beneath her feet when she walked inside. The lights were on—probably the sheriff’s doing—so she could see everything. She skimmed the space but found nothing out of order. All the books were still safely on the shelves and the tables.
Her gaze shifted to the counter, then directly to the shelf beneath where she kept the cash box.
“You okay?” Simon asked.
Violet realized she was squeezing his hand tighter. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, holding her arm to keep her from pulling away.
She turned to face him as though needing a hug. She did need one, but that wasn’t her reason for moving in close.
“I know who did this,” she whispered.
Simon stood there, his hand on her back. “Who?”
“My dad,” she said sadly.
“How do you know?”
“The cash box is missin’.”
Simon’s hand firmed on her back, and she realized she was grateful for his presence. Not only because the store had been broken into. Even knowing who was responsible didn’t change the fact that it was a violation. But most importantly, she needed his strength because she wasn’t sure how she was going to handle another betrayal by her own father.
•••••
Simon didn’t move. He didn’t pull away, didn’t ask any questions. He simply held Violet for a moment because he could tell that was what she needed from him.
“Don’t tell the sheriff,” she said when she finally stepped back, releasing his hand.
He wanted to ask her why not. At the very least, she needed to press charges.
Then again, she didn’t seem at all surprised that the man who sired her had stolen from her.
He followed her over to the counter where the point-of-sale terminal sat. It looked untouched, the iPad still mounted to the base.
“He cut the lock,” she said, her voice low as she pointed beneath the counter. “Took the whole thing.”
Simon noticed the anti-theft cable dangling, a dead giveaway that something was missing.
“It’s my fault,” she said. “I should keep it in a safe, but it’s easier there. I saw him lookin’ at it the other day,” she explained. “I should’ve taken it with me.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said defensively.
“Yeah, it is. He asked for money and I told him no. He said it was to fix his truck, which was a lie. He drives a brand-new truck.”
“What did he need it for?”
“Who knows. He’s always”—she used air quotes—“ borrowin’ money from my mother. Never pays her back.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “He used to do that with the child support he paid her. He’d bring it by, give it to her, then tell her he really needed it, but he would pay her back as soon as possible. When she asked for it, he would tell her he already paid it and it was her fault for loanin’ it to him.”
Wow. Simon wasn’t sure what to say to that.
Violet exhaled heavily. “My dad’s a selfish bastard. No one will dispute that. When he wants somethin’, there’s not much that’ll stop him from gettin’ it.”
He hated that she sounded like she was talking about a random stranger instead of her father. Of all the people in the world, she should be able to depend on her parents not to hurt her like this.
“How much was in it?”
