Violet POV

“Who are you?” asked the old woman, her face lines becoming more prominent as she narrowed her eyes. It was a surprise that her hand didn’t waver as she pointed the gun at my face. "Did you not see the bold, red signs showing no trespassing?"

Licking my dry lips, I said, “Hi, I am Violet, a friend of Martha Smith.” I meant to say enemy because that's what I was thinking. But I kept my tone under check because I had to find out about the boys. “She asked me ...