The Certainty of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence, #5)(21)

I nod with eagerness. ‘Okay, I’ll go get him.’

‘I’ll escort you there,’ he says, trailing me as I hurriedly make my way through the cubicle area.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I tell him as I veer left and head past the sitting area and toward the entrance doors.

‘It’s not for you,’ he tells me, moving forward to open one of the doors for me.

‘Afraid I’ll run?’ I ask, wrapping my arms around myself as I step outside into the chilly night breeze.

He shrugs, staring out at the parking lot where Luke’s rustic truck is parked. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time.’ The door slams shut. ‘I’ll wait for you right here.’

I trot down the stairs, my heart hammering inside my chest. I remember the many things I had to do when I was younger by myself. At doctor’s appointments, one of my foster parents would wait for me in the waiting room. My visits with the police in the beginning, I was chaperoned by my foster mother at the time, which meant she’d sit on a chair nearby and file her nails. I remember sitting in the chair and just wanting to hold someone’s hand. I tried to hold her hand once, from which she causally slipped hers out. All I wanted was someone to comfort me.

What I wanted was my mom and dad. But that wasn’t possible since the reason I was there alone was because they were dead.

As I approach Luke’s truck, I can hear music playing and see smoke lacing out the cracked window. When I open the driver’s door, he’s messing around with his stereo and I end up scaring the crap out of him. He jumps, looking as though he’s about ready to hit me.

‘Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.’ He puts his cigarette out on the ground, caution in his eyes as his gaze elevates to me. ‘Are you ready to go?’

Shaking my head, I point over my shoulder at the police station. ‘I need you to come in there.’

He instantly frowns. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Not really, I just …’ I chew on my bottom lip. God, asking for help can be so difficult. Just do it for God sakes! ‘I just don’t want to be alone when I do this.’

As hard as it is to ask for help, his expression makes me feel the slightest bit better. ‘Okay.’ He grabs his keys, gets out of the truck, and shuts the door.

‘You have to wait in the waiting room, though … because … well, you know.’ There’s a bit of awkwardness, at least with me, having to remind him that it’s his mother in there.

But Luke tangles his fingers with mine like it’s the simplest thing in the world. If only everything was that simple, but even walking on my own anymore is getting complicated. Still it helps that Luke is there, helps that he tries to make it as easy as possible when the Detective makes him sit out in the waiting area as if he’s the criminal, helps that when I get back to the room with the two-way mirror, I know that he’s right out there in the same building, within running distance.

It makes it easier to breathe.

The room I’m standing in is small and dark, except for the light coming from the other side where they’re going to bring Mira Price in. The air smells like cigarettes and coffee and there are a few metal chairs behind me that I could probably sit down in, but I’m afraid if I move, I’ll run, so I stay planted in front of the window.

I swear to God I’m standing there for hours, when really it’s probably only a few minutes, maybe even seconds before the Detective joins me.

‘You ready for this?’ he asks, glancing down at the papers he’s been carrying around.

No. ‘Yes.’ I fidget with the leather band on my wrist, the one I put on to cover up what I did earlier. ‘What exactly am I supposed to do, though? Just tell you yes or no if I can remember her? ‘

He nods, distracted by the papers. ‘If she was the one there that night and you can identify her, then you’ll tell me. But it’s very important that you’re sure, okay?’

I nod. Like I would ever say anything else. Falsely identify Luke’s mom, that’s something I’d never want to do.

‘And we can get her to speak, too … I know you said you heard her speak, right?’ he asks as a door on the other side opens up.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I step up to the glass window. ‘Sing … I heard her sing …’ I trail off as a woman enters the room.

This is it.

This is it.

Holy shit, this is it.

She walks awkwardly as if her feet are too heavy for her legs, her shoes dragging across the floor. Her head is tipped down, her brown hair a veil around her face. She’s wringing her hands in front of her, nervous and scared. The first thing I think is that this can’t be the woman there that night. But I quickly learn that my initial observation of Mira Price is wrong because when she reaches the center of the room and turns to face the window, her expression is calm, her shoulders are squared. And those eyes … Those goddamn eyes that are as hollow as my heart used to be. They’re the color of Luke’s too, but still look so different – so lacking life and emotion. No, they’re not the same at all.

Mira’s eyes look hauntingly dead, pale, expressionless, and when she smiles it’s as if she’s pleased to be on the other side of the glass. But I’m just not sure it was her singing in the dark that night, and a sadness weeps inside me as I realize this and what it means – that I can’t identify her.