Chapter 78 On the Record
Violet
Camille doesn’t even breathe before she answers.
“Start with the phone call,” she says, leaning forward. “That’s where it started.”
Detective Reyes glances at her, then back at me. “Phone call?”
I nod.
“Yes,” I say. “That was the first time.”
Reyes clicks her pen once. “Walk me through it.”
I fold my hands in my lap so they don’t shake.
“He called me directly,” I say. “Said he had questions about my brother. It sounded routine at first. Professional.”
“Did he identify himself as law enforcement?”
“Yes.”
“And he asked you to come down to the station?”
“Yes. Same day.”
Reyes writes that down carefully. “And you went voluntarily.”
“Yes.”
Camille mutters under her breath, “Because she had nothing to hide.”
Reyes continues, “What happened when you arrived?”
“He brought me into an interview room,” I say. “Not a conference room. An actual interview room.”
Reyes nods slowly. “Was anyone else present?”
“No.”
“And what were the questions?”
“Basic at first. Where my brother had been living. If I’d spoken to him recently. Whether he had enemies. Financial trouble. Drugs.”
“Did you feel like a suspect at that point?”
“No,” I admit. “Just… questioned.”
“And then?”
“Two days later,” I say, “I went back.”
“Again voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
“And this time?”
“This time they had found my brother’s body,” I say quietly.
The room stills.
Reyes lowers her voice slightly. “Did Detective Calder inform you personally?”
“Yes.”
“And what changed?”
I inhale slowly.
“He treated me differently,” I say. “Like I’d done something.”
“In what way?”
“He told me the last person my brother called before he died was me.”
Reyes’ pen pauses mid-word. “Was that accurate?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He started asking why,” I say. “What we talked about. Whether we argued. Whether I had a reason to lie.”
Camille makes a sharp sound beside me.
“He implied motive,” I continue. “Said it didn’t look good.”
“Did he read you your rights?” Reyes asks.
“No.”
“Did he prevent you from leaving?”
“Yes.”
Reyes looks up sharply. “Clarify.”
“I told him I wanted to leave,” I say. “He said I couldn’t. That we weren’t finished.”
“Did he state you were being detained?”
“No.”
“Did he physically block you?”
“He stood between me and the door.”
Camille jumps in, “She called her lawyer from inside that room because he wouldn’t let her walk out.”
Reyes looks back at me. “Is that accurate?”
“Yes.”
“And did legal counsel intervene?”
“Yes.”
“What happened then?”
“My boss arrived.”
Reyes tilts her head slightly. “Mr. Ashcroft?”
“Yes.”
“And after his arrival?”
“Calder backed off.”
Reyes writes that down slowly.
“Were threats made?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of threats?”
“He said if I didn’t cooperate, things would get harder for me,” I say. “That he could make my life complicated.”
“Did he define ‘complicated’?”
“No.”
“Did you interpret that as intimidation?”
“Yes.”
Reyes nods once.
“And after that interview?”
“I got a new phone,” I say. “My number had been compromised. I moved in with Camille temporarily because I didn’t feel safe staying alone.”
Reyes’ pen pauses again. “Did Detective Calder contact you outside official channels?”
“Yes.”
“Explain.”
“He called from blocked numbers. Left vague messages. Asked to ‘talk off the record.’”
Camille folds her arms. “He was obsessed.”
Reyes ignores the commentary.
“And then he appeared at your workplace,” she says.
“Yes.”
“Unannounced?”
“Yes.”
“What was his purpose?”
“He said he had follow-up questions.”
“And that interaction ended how?”
“He cornered me in the women’s restroom.”
Reyes’s expression tightens slightly.
“Walk me through that.”
I swallow.
“He commented on how tired I looked,” I say. “Mentioned my mother. Suggested that if I’d cooperated earlier, she might still be alive.”
Reyes’s pen stops.
“Clarify that statement.”
“He implied that my refusal to give him information contributed to her stroke.”
Silence.
Camille’s nails dig lightly into my palm.
“And then?” Reyes asks.
“He attempted to arrest me.”
“For what charge?”
“Obstruction.”
“Of what investigation?”
“He didn’t specify.”
“Did he produce a warrant?”
“No.”
“Did he read you your rights?”
“No.”
“Did he physically restrain you?”
“Yes.”
Reyes’s voice is steady. “Show me.”
I don’t hesitate this time.
I roll up my sleeve.
The bruising is yellow now, fading, but still visible along the inside of my forearm. Finger-shaped.
Camille immediately pulls her phone from her purse.
“I took photos the same day,” she says sharply. “Time stamped.”
She slides the phone across the table.
Reyes examines the images carefully.
“These are consistent with grip force,” she says quietly.
“He grabbed me hard,” I say. “Twisted my arm behind me.”
“Were there witnesses?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Multiple employees.”
“And what stopped him?”
“My boss intervened.”
Reyes looks at me very carefully now.
“Did Mr. Ashcroft physically interfere?”
“He told Calder to release me,” I say.
“And did he?”
“Yes.”
Reyes studies the bruise again.
“Ms. Pierce,” she says gently, “at any point did you consent to continued questioning outside formal legal procedure?”
“No.”
“At any point did you threaten Detective Calder?”
“No.”
“At any point did you obstruct a lawful investigation?”
“No.”
She sits back slightly.
“Is there anything you are leaving out?”
I think of the funeral plots.
Of gray granite.
Of two caskets side by side.
Together. Always.
“No,” I say quietly.
Reyes nods slowly.
“And just to confirm,” she says, “the first contact was initiated by Detective Calder. Not by you.”
“Yes.”
“And all subsequent in-person interactions were either requested by him or forced by circumstance.”
“Yes.”
Reyes closes her notebook.
“We’ll be comparing your statement with Mr. Ashcroft’s and Mr. Hale’s,” she says evenly. “If the timelines align, this becomes a pattern of misconduct.”
“It aligns,” Camille says sharply.
Reyes doesn’t respond to that.
She looks at me one last time.
“Do you feel safe testifying against him?”
I look at my fading bruises.
I think of the way he smiled when he cornered me.
“Yes,” I say.
This time, my voice is steady.
“That,” she says carefully, “should have never happened.”
Her tone isn’t performative. It isn’t defensive.
It’s irritated.
“This was completely out of line,” she continues. “If everything you’ve stated aligns with the security footage, dispatch logs, and your employer’s testimony… Detective Calder will be terminated immediately.”
Camille lets out a breath that sounds like it’s been trapped in her lungs for weeks.
“Good,” she mutters.
Reyes nods once. “This department does not condone intimidation, unlawful detention, or abuse of authority. Not on paper. Not in practice.”
I sit very still.
“Ms. Pierce,” she says, her voice softer now, “I want to apologize.”
The word lands heavier than I expect.
“For what you experienced,” she continues. “For the way you were treated. For the escalation. None of that reflects our policies or our standards.”
Camille’s jaw tightens. “You mean it shouldn’t.”
Reyes doesn’t bristle.
“You’re right,” she says evenly. “It shouldn’t. And it won’t again.”
She stands slowly.
“I need to speak with my partner before we proceed,” she says. “We’ll compare statements and verify the timeline.”