Chapter 3 - Ava Had Been Hiding From Someone At Home
Kayla Brooks was thirty-one.
An accountant.
Blue Honda.
Two children currently staying with her sister in Maryland.
Nothing about her fit the kind of person television teaches you to imagine when somebody says hiding.
We sat in the empty dojo lobby.
Walter gave her water.
Mason stayed far enough away that Kayla never had to ask him to.
I respected that more than I wanted to.
“You've been staying downstairs?”
“Three nights.”
“Why?”
Kayla looked at Walter.
He said:
“You don't have to—”
She raised one hand.
He stopped.
Good.
“My ex showed up at my apartment.”
She didn't give me a detailed story.
I didn't need one.
There was an active protective order.
He had violated it once.
Kayla's sister took the children while police handled the latest incident.
Kayla had somewhere to go next.
She just hadn't been ready to bring that next place into the situation yet.
Walter let her sleep under the dojo for two nights.
“Why not a hotel?”
I asked.
“I didn't want advice.”
I stopped.
She gave me a tired smile.
“Everybody had advice.”
Fair.
“Does Mason know?”
“He knew I was here.”
“Was that you opening the hatch?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I heard fighting.”
“You called Mason's name.”
“I thought he was hurt.”
Mason looked down.
The man who had shoved me off a mat had also apparently brought Kayla food the night before.
People are inconvenient that way.
I asked:
“What did you mean, same reason as Ava?”
Kayla looked at Walter.
“You tell her.”
Walter's face tightened.
“You knew Ava?”
“No.”
“Then how—”
“Walter told me I wasn't the first person who'd slept down there because home wasn't safe.”
I looked at him.
“That still doesn't tell me why.”
Walter sat opposite me.
“Ava and your father were fighting.”
My body went cold.
“No.”
Walter didn't move.
“Daniel Carter loved his daughters.”
“Yes.”
“Both can be true.”
“Don't.”
I stood.
“My father searched for Ava every day.”
Walter nodded.
“I know.”
“He put her photograph on every highway between here and Richmond.”
“I know.”
“He spent two years blaming this dojo.”
Walter's face changed.
“I know.”
“So don't tell me she was hiding from him underneath it.”
Kayla stood.
“I should go.”
I turned.
“No. Sorry.”
She looked at me.
“I'm not afraid of you.”
She glanced toward Mason.
“I'm tired.”
Fair.
Walter offered to call the advocate already helping her.
Kayla nodded.
No secret exit plan.
No dramatic disappearance.
A woman moving from one temporary place to a safer legitimate one because our old mystery had made the dojo unusable.
Before leaving, she stopped beside me.
“Emma.”
“What?”
“I don't know your sister.”
“I know.”
“But when I couldn't sleep last night, I read the names carved under the stairs.”
My attention sharpened.
“What names?”
Walter closed his eyes.
Kayla continued:
“People wrote first names. Sometimes dates.”
I looked at Walter.
“You didn't mention that.”
“No.”
“Was Ava there?”
Kayla nodded.
“AVA.”
My throat tightened.
“And underneath it…”
She hesitated.
“What?”
“EMMA.”
I stopped breathing normally.
“I was never down there.”
“I figured.”
Walter looked toward the floor.
Kayla continued:
“Same handwriting.”
Ava had written my name underneath the dojo.
I followed Walter to the hatch after Kayla left.
Mason came too.
This time we opened it from above.
A narrow stair descended into an old concrete room.
No sinister machinery.
One folding cot.
A chair.
Old shelving.
Emergency blankets.
A lamp.
The place smelled like dust, detergent and damp concrete.
Walter switched on the light.
Under the stairs, names had been written in marker over the years.
KATE.
LISA.
MONICA.
AVA — 2021.
Under it:
EMMA.
No date.
I touched the letters.
“What does this mean?”
Walter didn't answer.
Mason did.
“She wanted you here.”
I turned.
“What?”
“Not living here.”
He shook his head.
“She asked Walter whether you could come talk to her.”
“When?”
“The week before she disappeared.”
My throat tightened.
“Did anyone call me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Walter stepped down.
“Ava changed her mind.”
“Why?”
Silence.
Then Mason said:
“Because your father found out where she was.”
Walter closed his eyes.
I stared.
“How?”
Mason looked straight at me.
“Me.”
No smirk.
May you like
No anger now.
“I told him.”
