Chapter 2 - Walter Had Lied About My Sister’s Last Night
The dojo locked its doors at 3:17 that afternoon.
Not because Walter wanted privacy.
Because somebody called the building owner after watching the floor open.
Adults are impressively fast at becoming concerned with fire codes once a secret room appears beneath their feet.
The students left in small groups.
Nobody wanted to miss anything.
Nobody wanted to be first to admit they were staying for gossip.
I stayed because Ava's bracelet was in my pocket.
Mason stayed because Walter told him to.
Walter sat in his office with the door open.
I stood.
Mason leaned against the far wall with an ice pack against his cheek.
Walter pointed at the chair.
“Sit.”
“No.”
“Fine.”
He looked at my belt, which I had tied back around my waist.
“Who taught you the throw?”
“My sister.”
His eyes sharpened.
“When?”
“When I was sixteen.”
“How?”
“What kind of question is that?”
He shook his head.
“That movement wasn't part of our regular curriculum.”
Mason looked up.
Walter continued:
“Ava changed the way she used it after hurting her shoulder. She was the only person here who moved like that.”
“So?”
“So I didn't know she taught you.”
“You didn't know everything about her.”
“No.”
That answer surprised me.
I expected defensiveness.
Walter rubbed one hand over his face.
“I thought I did.”
I took the bracelet out.
Set it on his desk.
“Police asked whether Ava ever went below the training floor.”
“Yes.”
“You said no.”
“Yes.”
“Police asked whether there were rooms inaccessible from the main dojo.”
“Yes.”
“You said no.”
Mason spoke quietly.
“Walter.”
Walter looked at him.
“Don't.”
I leaned over the desk.
“What is below the hatch?”
“Old storage.”
“Someone was inside.”
“Yes.”
“Today.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Walter stared at me.
“I won't tell you.”
My anger rose.
Mason pushed away from the wall.
“She's going to keep digging.”
Walter looked at him.
“You've helped enough.”
That landed strangely.
Mason's jaw tightened.
I noticed.
“What did he help with?”
Neither answered.
I picked up the bracelet.
“If you don't tell me what's under the floor, I'll call the police.”
Mason laughed softly.
“You think they haven't seen it?”
I turned.
“What?”
Walter looked furious.
Mason continued anyway.
“They saw it five years ago.”
My stomach tightened.
“The hatch.”
“Yes.”
“Then why isn't it in the report?”
Walter stood.
“Mason.”
“No.”
Mason threw the ice pack onto the desk.
“You don't get to act like keeping everything quiet worked.”
He looked at me.
“Police opened the hatch.”
I stared.
“They went down?”
“Yes.”
“What did they find?”
“Nothing related to Ava.”
“Was her bracelet there?”
“No.”
That changed something.
“Then somebody placed it there later.”
Walter said:
“Or it was trapped beneath the mat where no one saw it.”
I looked at him.
“Which do you believe?”
He didn't answer.
I turned to Mason.
“What was below?”
He glanced at Walter.
Then stopped asking permission with his eyes.
“A room.”
“What room?”
“Old storage originally.”
“Originally.”
Mason swallowed.
“Walter let people stay there sometimes.”
“Stay?”
“Overnight.”
My pulse changed.
“What people?”
Walter's voice hardened.
“Adults who needed somewhere safe for a few hours.”
That was not the answer I expected.
Not an underground fight club.
Not buried evidence.
A mattress.
A locked door.
A place nobody upstairs was supposed to discuss.
I looked at Walter.
“A shelter.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“A room.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It was never licensed. Never advertised. People came because someone we trusted asked whether they could wait there until family, an advocate, a hotel, whatever was next became available.”
I stared.
“You hid people under a martial-arts school.”
Walter looked ashamed.
“Sometimes.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
“Was Ava one of them?”
Silence.
There.
My heartbeat changed.
“Walter.”
He sat.
“Yes.”
I felt the office move around me.
“How long?”
He didn't answer quickly enough.
“A night?”
“No.”
“A week?”
“No.”
Mason looked away.
I said:
“How long was my sister living underneath this dojo?”
Walter's voice came quietly.
“On and off for almost six weeks.”
I stared.
Five years earlier, I had still lived with Ava.
Same family house.
Same kitchen.
Same mother asking whether she wanted coffee in the morning.
Ava had been disappearing at night.
Sleeping beneath the dojo floor.
Nobody had told me.
“Why?”
Walter looked at me.
“That part belongs to Ava.”
“She’s missing.”
“I know.”
“You don't get to protect the privacy of someone who may be dead.”
Walter flinched.
Good.
Then a noise came from the front of the dojo.
Knocking.
Three hard knocks.
Mason looked toward the hall.
Walter did too.
Nobody moved.
Then three more.
I walked out before either could stop me.
A woman stood beyond the glass door.
Early thirties.
Dark jacket.
Bruise-colored shadow near one cheekbone.
She looked at me.
Then at Mason behind me.
Her face tightened.
Walter unlocked the door.
“What are you doing back here?”
She ignored him.
Looked straight at me.
“You’re Emma.”
I froze.
“How do you know?”
Her eyes dropped to the bracelet in my hand.
Then back up.
“Because that's the one Ava used to wear.”
My throat closed.
Mason whispered:
“Kayla.”
The woman looked at him.
“You told her?”
“No.”
She looked at Walter.
“Then she found it.”
I stepped closer.
“You were under the floor.”
Kayla did not deny it.
“Yes.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
May you like
She looked toward the old training room.
“Same reason your sister was.”
