“Right,” Rachel said. “Exactly.”

  Anna’s parents did that. She’d come into the room and see her mom and dad sitting together, clearly in the middle of talking about her, and they’d try to act all casual, give off the vibe of No, honey, we weren’t talking about you. But Anna would know they had been because they’d awkwardly launch into saying what they wanted her to do based on what they’d been talking about. She was sure Rachel and Eric were about to do the same thing.

  Rachel would be taking the lead because Eric couldn’t.

  “So, we thought, you know, maybe you’d want to head back home today. Eric’s off work and so am I, so one of us could drive your car and the other could follow, so you wouldn’t be on your own. And then you could see your parents or talk to the cops or whatever you have to do now that you’re rested and everything.”

  Anna swallowed more coffee, felt the warmth move through her body.

  “That is, if you don’t want to get in touch with Avery. Which I totally get if you don’t want to, but that’s an option too.”

  Rachel looked at Eric and shrugged—a gesture that seemed intended to appear totally casual but looked as convincing as a cat walking on its hind legs.

  “Yeah,” Eric said. “Avery. I know the two of you aren’t always cool, but she’s pretty good in a crisis. Remember that time I fell off my bike when I was ten, and Avery came out of the house and administered first aid to me even though I was all scared and crying? I’ll never forget that about her.” He looked at Rachel and pointed to his hairline. “I still have the scar.”

  “I really do appreciate the help both of you have given me,” Anna said. “I know I wasn’t in the best frame of mind last night. I’m still not. And I’m sorry you had to leave your house, Rachel.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Anna rubbed her forehead. “I think I was pretty upset last night. I think I asked you to sleep in the bed with me, didn’t I?”

  “You did,” Rachel said. “I didn’t mind.”

  “And I didn’t mind sleeping on the couch,” Eric said. “I mean, I figured . . . you know, with everything going on . . . and I certainly never intended to ask . . .”

  “Thanks, Eric.” Anna moved the mug around, first one way and then another. “I want to go to the march. That’s what I’m here for, and that’s what I’m doing.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled. Anna waited for someone else to speak, while a clock ticked somewhere in the apartment.

  “My friend Bonita works for a lawyer here in town.” Rachel spoke gently, like she was addressing a spooked child. “And she says it could get ugly out there. The police aren’t going to put up with anything.”

  “I don’t care about the police. That’s why I want to go to the march. That’s the point. Somebody has to be held accountable for what they’ve done.”

  “And not just cops,” Rachel said. “There are likely to be counterprotestors. You know, the guys who show up with guns and pretend like they’re running around in Iraq because they never joined the army for real.”

  “I don’t care,” Anna said.

  “Plenty of people will be marching,” Eric said. “Good people. It doesn’t just have to fall on you, after all you’ve been through. We thought if you don’t want to go home, we could do something else. We could drive down to Bernheim Forest or go to a distillery. The day is young.”

  Anna’s hands dropped to the table with a thwack. Her calm demeanor departed. “Do something touristy? Today?”

  “We thought—” Rachel said.

  “You thought what? You two had a nice time sitting out here making a plan for me. Thanks for that. And thanks for finally including me and asking me what I wanted to do.”

  “We wanted to let you sleep, Anna,” Eric said.

  “Well, I’m awake, okay? I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m awake. And I’m going to the march. You can come with me or not. Really. I know where the park is. I can walk there if I have to.”

  “Anna, you don’t have to—”

  “And by the way, thanks for not asking for sex last night, Eric. What do you want? A medal?”

  “Well, I—”

  She stood up and left the room to get dressed, while he still sputtered.

  34

  Avery and Charlie had taken adjoining hotel rooms, and when she finally woke up and knocked on his door, he didn’t answer. She found him downstairs in the dining room. A crumb-filled plate and a mug of coffee sat on the table before him. He scanned the local paper with a pair of store-bought readers perched on the end of his nose. When Avery sat with her plate of food, he folded the paper and tossed it onto an empty chair. He removed the glasses.

  “Good morning, Starshine.”

  “What’s so good about it?”

  “There’s free coffee and food.”

  “I’m sure the cost is slipped into the bill somewhere.”

  “I’m just trying to look on the bright side.”

  Avery started eating her rubbery eggs. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well.”

  “I get it. You’re worried about Anna. And everything Mike told us.”

  “What is his deal?” She poured the cheap creamer into her coffee. “Why are you friends with him? And is Dad friends with him?”

  Charlie held the glasses between his thumb and index finger. The frames were dark purple, and he bounced them against his thigh. “We’re not friends. We had to work together from time to time. He’s a source.”

  “Of aggravation? Of misconceptions about cops?”

  “Just a source. I used to be idealistic when I was young, but that passed a long time ago. Mike provides what I need.”

  “And now some old debt is clear?”

  “Don’t concern yourself with what a couple of old farts talk about. Just war stories, that’s all.”

  Avery drank coffee. The creamer did nothing. Less than nothing, since it might have been expired and it added a crappy taste to the coffee.

  Charlie smiled about something.

  “What?”

  “I just remembered when you were little, very little, and I’d come over and sit around with Russ. We’d be out in the backyard having a beer or two, talking about work. And what would you do?”

  “These eggs need ketchup. Do you see any?”

  “You’d go out the front door and then sneak around. And you’d crawl up alongside the porch, so we couldn’t see you. And you’d listen. To every word we said.”

  “I thought being a child was boring.”

  “And hearing cops talk wasn’t. Right?”

  “One night the two of you talked about an accident you’d seen. The driver was decapitated. I went inside to find the dictionary to look that word up. When I understood what it meant, I went back out to hear more. But you were done talking about it.”

  “I don’t even remember that accident. I saw somebody with their head sliced off and I don’t remember.”

  “I’m sure you saw that stuff more than once.”

  “I did.” He stood up and grabbed a ketchup bottle off another table and brought it back. “Here.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Maybe I’ve repressed it all. Maybe that’s why my blood pressure is so high. My lady friend says I stuff my emotions. Placid exterior. Churning interior.”

  Avery squeezed the ketchup, and the plastic bottle made a squirting sound. The condiment didn’t help much, but it did enough. “Speaking of that . . .”

  “My emotions?”

  “I don’t think you need to go today. The chances of finding Anna in the massive crowd are slim. She doesn’t want to be located. And if a lot of trouble is going to come down . . .”

  “You think I’m too old.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I appreciate it. I do.” He folded the glasses and slid them into his shirt pocket. He patted the pocket once. “You girls are about the closest to having kids I’ll ever come. My nieces and nephews live far away. They don’t really know me.”

  Charlie spoke without looking at her. She sensed some sort of honest and open expression of emotion coming. And that always made her nervous and uncomfortable.

  “I feel that close to all three of you,” he said. “I hope you know that.”

  Something caught in Avery’s throat. And it wasn’t the rubbery eggs. “I do.”

  “What I’m saying is your dad can’t do this. He’s not well enough. So I have to do it for him. You know? Have to.”

  “Okay. I get it. I’m happy to have the company. Besides, I think it’s a fruitless mission.”

  “Even a fruitless mission sounds interesting. It’s no fun being retired.”

  “Really? You look like you’re having a good time on the farm.”

  “I might be having a good time.” He grappled for the right words. “It’s just . . . it’s not quite the same purpose I had when I worked. The feeling I was waking up every day to do something that mattered.”

  “And chasing down a pissed-off college student is on that level?”

  “Come on, Avery. You know what I mean.”

  She did. Her comment was a defense, pushback to avoid really engaging with what he’d said. But she’d known even before Charlie said it. She felt the same way. She loved school. She loved what she had to look forward to.

  But had any of it ever mattered as much as her time as a cop?

  Had anything ever felt as big?

  “I know.” She pushed her nearly empty plate away. She went across the room and refilled her coffee. When she came back, Charlie was still staring off into the distance. “Do you want to get going?”

  “Your dad didn’t have anything else noteworthy to say when you were at his house?” he asked.

  It seemed like an odd question. Avery’s dad never had anything noteworthy to say to her.

  “He gave me the usual ungrateful-daughter speech, something right out of King Lear. He reminded me of what a disappointment I am. How I could have been a captain like him. He needed help finding a bottle. He complained about Jane’s cousin Libby because she wanted to talk to Anna for some reason.”

  “Oh, yeah, Libby. Shit, Jane set me up with her. Remember?”

  “She did?”

  “We went on a few dates. I managed to sidestep further entanglements. She wasn’t right for me.”

  “I hear you. Libby’s pretty close to Jane. But she’s really close to Anna. I think when Alisha and I were out of the house, Anna could turn to Libby for help or advice. You know, someone who wasn’t her parents.”

  “Everybody needs that.”

  “Yeah. Kids are lucky if they find someone like that.”

  “They are. But you don’t know why Libby was calling.”

  “No idea. She couldn’t get ahold of Anna, so maybe she was just worried. Dad acted more irritated by the call than he should have, but that’s par for the course. He randomly gets pissed about little shit.”

  “True enough.”

  “You ready to get out of here? We have a date with either angry cops, pissed-off racists, or super-woke social justice warriors. I, for one, can’t wait.”

  “Hold on a minute.” He shifted his body so he faced her. “I hope all that’s going on with Anna is she’s pissed off about the shooting. I hope we find her, or she just decides to return on her own. That’s probably what this is about.”

  “What else would it be about?” Avery studied him. “You mean a scenario where the roommate’s murder was some sort of revenge for something Dad did in the past? Is that it? And not just a random crime?”

  “Right.”

  “That’s always been a possibility.”

  Charlie nodded, as if confirming something to himself. “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  Avery waited. Across the room, a hotel employee pulled a bulging trash bag out of a can and dragged it back to the kitchen.

  “Do you want to go now? I think they’re cleaning up.”

  “I just want you to know that we don’t really know what’s going on with Anna. And I think it’s important for us to find her and make sure she’s safe.”

  “And that’s also why you wanted to come? In addition to liking to have a purpose and a mission.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And there’s nothing else I need to know?” Avery asked.

  Charlie really seemed to think the question over. Then he nodded again and stood up. “No, I think we’re good to go.”

  35

  Yates’ neck burned.

  He’d spent the night in his car, keeping an eye on the apartment building. He’d allowed himself the indulgence of going to the back seat, and even closed his eyes and slept for about four hours, figuring the kids wouldn’t be up at dawn after being out so late. The march started at nine.

  Still, he didn’t want to miss them. Not after he had spent the whole night before following them around. Not after he had come all that way.

  Not when he needed to make this work so he could get back in the good graces of the man he worked for. And the family Hogan worked for.

  Yates climbed out of the car into the cold morning air. Condensation covered the windows, and he shivered as he looked around. He needed to piss, needed to get coffee and something to eat. He’d seen a crappy little bakery on the corner—the kind of place that looked like it had been there since before World War Two. That meant either their products would be the best he ever had—or the worst. No in-between with a place like that.

  He decided to risk it.

  He started by going down an alley and taking a leak behind a dumpster while he scratched his stubbly face with his free hand. Sweet relief. He’d stayed in the car so long, holding it in, that the pee just kept coming and coming. Like being on a carnival ride, it felt so good.

  He’d followed the two girls to a bar last night. A place with a brick-walled courtyard, white lights on a strand over everybody’s heads. He’d watched from a distance, drinking club soda with a lime in it to keep his head clear. Anna didn’t drink either, but her friend sure did. The friend ordered drink after drink—and talked a lot—while Anna stared off into the distance, like the friend wasn’t even there.

  Yates couldn’t know for certain if Anna would recognize him. That night they had come face-to-face outside the apartment had been dark, the moon hidden by clouds, and based on the way Anna had stumbled out of the car, then fallen on the stairs, her head hadn’t been exactly clear.

  But Yates couldn’t risk it. He’d stayed back, out of sight. Just another lonely guy in a bar on a Friday night, trying to pretend the baseball playoff game on the TV interested him.

  He finished peeing and zipped up. He started down the street for the bakery. At some point the night before, the two girls had met up with a dude. Not a bad-looking guy but a little overweight. Clearly he was into Anna. He stared at her with puppy eyes even as she continued to look off into space, like a movie that nobody else could see was playing in her mind.

  Yates had followed them from one bar to another, keeping his distance. Anna must have known her roommate had been killed—that must have been why she was so mopey—but even armed with that knowledge, the three of them took no special precautions. They walked right down the streets of Louisville, never looking behind them, never changing sides of the street, never splitting up or taking an unpredictable route. Yates grew bored with them. It was like tracking little kids just learning to play hide-and-seek.

  At the end of the night, they had done one thing correctly. Rather than going back to the other girl’s apartment, they went to the guy’s place. That was where Yates spent the night in the car, outside the dude’s building, which appeared to be a pretty decent place. Yates guessed there was a trust fund involved or some serious financial help from mommy and daddy.

  Inside the bakery he ordered a giant coffee and a couple of donuts. The woman behind the counter, who wore a spot of flour on her nose and looked to have been working there since the place had opened, spoke to him in an accent so thick, he couldn’t understand a word she said. That increased Yates’ confidence that the place was the real deal, that the donuts were made on the spot and would deliver real taste.

  And he was right.

  He bit into the first one as he walked back to his car, and the sweet taste exploded in his mouth.

  “Mmmm.”

  He drilled the rest of it, not minding at all that crumbs stuck to his stubble and fingers. By the time he reached the car, the donut was gone, and he told himself to hold off on the second one, to delay the gratification as long as he could. He anticipated climbing back into the car and wolfing it down, with the coffee chasing it.

  But a cop stood next to his car with his ticket book in hand.

  Yates spoke up without thinking. “Whoa, whoa.”

  He ran up to the car. The cop turned to him, acted utterly disinterested in Yates’ arrival on the scene.

  “Is there a problem, Officer? It’s a Saturday. I’m here now.”

  The cop didn’t look up. “You need a permit to park on this street.”

  “I do. A permit?”

  “Yes, sir. I could have the vehicle towed.”

  “No, no. Not that. Look, I’m from out of town.”

  The cop nodded. “I see on the plate you’re from Manchester County.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Breckville?”

  “Near there. I live in Hancock.”

  The cop studied Yates. He was a young guy, likely a rookie. He took Yates in like he thought the two of them had gone to high school together and the cop just couldn’t place the name that went with the face.

  Yates had to assume his description was out. Hopefully vague, but maybe the cops had found security footage or something? Maybe some nosy neighbor had taken a video?