If that went against everything her father and her sister believed in and stood for, all the better. She hoped they found out where she was, hoped they could see her two raised middle fingers from wherever they were.

  It looked like they were late. A large crowd filled the park, pushing all the way out to the edges, across the sidewalk, and into the street. A voice echoed across the area, amplified by a bullhorn, the words rolling so far across the vast space that by the time it reached them it was hard to tell what was actually being said.

  “Anna, slow down,” Rachel said.

  She kept going, not breaking stride. If Rachel and Eric couldn’t keep up—

  Cop cars lined the street. City of Louisville and some KSP. Officers stood outside their cars, thumbs hooked in belts, and scanned the area with their dead cop eyes. They were likely out in force, not just there, around the perimeter of the crowd, but along the entire route of the march, from Baxter Park to city hall. Anna assumed most of the cops’ efforts would be concentrated on city hall. If some houses and businesses along the way got trashed, they could live with that. But the politicians up for reelection wouldn’t want any of the city’s pretty buildings to get messed up for social media or be shown on the evening news.

  Anna reached the back of the crowd. A number of signs and banners were held aloft. A news van drove by, the camera guy filming the crowd through the open sliding door. People used their phones to record the day’s events. Those accounts would be more reliable, Anna thought.

  The voice through the bullhorn grew louder, and the crowd cheered.

  “What did they say?” Rachel asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I wish I could—”

  “Shh.”

  “. . . because some people want to prevent us from marching, to silence our voices . . .”

  An eruption of cheers. Rachel and Eric stood next to Anna. Eric looked around, seemed to be checking out the cops. He kept his head lowered, like he was afraid someone would come along and smack him one. Or maybe he just feared being recorded, his face popping up somewhere so that everyone would know that he was at the protest.

  “We could move back farther,” Eric said. “Stand in the next block or something.”

  “Stand where? We’re at the back,” Anna said.

  “I don’t know. Away from the crowd.”

  “If you want to go—”

  “. . . don’t listen to all the chatter and rumormongering about other groups showing up and stopping our march. We have the right to march. The city has given us the right to march. And we will march . . . and be heard. . . .”

  The crowd went wild. Anna felt the cheers inside her body like a shot of electricity. The noise passed from the others in the crowd—the hundreds and hundreds of people cheering and chanting alongside her. And she was a conduit, a way station for the energy as it went through her and then on to others, including—she hoped—her friends. Whether they cared as passionately about the cause as she did or not.

  She belonged. She was part of something.

  A new chant started on the far side of the park. An aggressive cadence, the sound rising above the noise of the crowd.

  “What’s that?” Rachel asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  The chanting grew louder. And louder. The voices barked, the tone deep and animallike.

  “What are they saying?” Eric asked.

  The crowd in the park started booing and hissing. Their collective attention turned toward the far side of the park, away from where Anna and her friends stood.

  “Easy now . . .” the voice said through the bullhorn. “We have to respect everyone. . . .”

  “It’s a counterprotest,” Anna said. Anger gripped her heart like an iron fist. She wanted to push through the crowd, shove everyone aside, and go nose to nose with the other group. The voices of the counterprotestors sounded masculine, a group of dudes showing up to try to intimidate and harass. Typical.

  “What are they saying?” Eric asked again.

  The voices rose louder and the words became clearer. Sharp and bitter.

  “Go home now. Blue lives matter.”

  “Oh, damn,” Rachel said.

  The crowd in the park chanted more and more, their voices rising above the counterprotestors. “Say her name. Say her name.”

  “Anna, do you want to go?” Eric asked.

  “Why?” Anna turned away from him, joined the crowd. She screamed as loud as she could, “Say her name! Say her name!”

  The volume of the crowd in the park rose so high, the counterprotestors were drowned out. Or they gave up. Either way, the sound of their chants faded away and disappeared, and all that could be heard in the park were the cheers and shouts of the group ready to depart for city hall.

  The voice through the bullhorn returned. “. . . Yes, yes . . . our words are stronger, our voices louder. . . .”

  “Yeah!” Anna raised a fist, felt spittle fly out of her mouth as she screamed, “Yeah!”

  She caught a glimpse of Eric out of the corner of her eye. He looked like he didn’t recognize her.

  She didn’t care.

  “. . . It’s time for us to go, as one group, with one voice. . . .”

  The cheering grew even louder. A police siren whooped behind the protestors. The crowd started moving east, in the direction of city hall, thousands of feet turning in one direction, the bodies pressed together in a mass.

  The cops who had lined the perimeter turned as well. Some of them climbed back into their cruisers, while others walked, faces turned in profile, posture rigid and erect like a military guard.

  The group bottlenecked leaving the park, everyone slowing like cars trying to merge in a traffic jam. They pretty much came to a standstill as the front of the crowd reached Jefferson Street. Anna and her friends were way back, so far back that they had to be patient.

  She didn’t care. They were starting. They—she, all of them—were doing something.

  Her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She ignored it.

  It vibrated again. Someone was calling.

  Anna checked the screen. Libby again.

  Libby.

  Libby would love this.

  Anna answered. “Libby, you’ll never guess where I am.”

  Libby couldn’t be heard over the noise of the crowd.

  “Did you hear me? Do you know where I am?”

  “I think I do. Anna, can we talk? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about them. Okay? I don’t want to hear about my parents.”

  “Anna, we do need to talk about them. But I can barely hear you. Can you get to someplace quiet?”

  “No, I can’t. There is nowhere quiet. Call me later.”

  “Anna, we need to talk about your birthday gift—”

  “Later.”

  Anna hung up. The crowd started to move.

  “Who was it?” Eric asked. “Your dad?”

  “My cousin Libby.”

  “Did she want you to go home?”

  “No, it was random. She wanted to talk about my birthday present. She might be high.”

  “Your birthday’s not until April.”

  “I don’t know, Eric. Let’s just go—”

  Crack.

  The moment immediately after the noise felt like it lasted a year.

  Almost a thousand people held their breath, wishing—hoping—someone had decided to set off firecrackers.

  Crack-crack-crack.

  Every voice screamed. Everybody moved in a different direction.

  The crowd came toward Anna and her friends and knocked Anna to the ground. She disappeared in the tangle of bodies, beneath the thundering storm of pumping legs and stomping feet.

  39

  The park appeared in the distance.

  The trees were in the process of changing to red and orange, bursting with color. A massive crowd huddled close together on the wide lawn.

  “Sheesh,” Charlie said. “I didn’t think there’d be so many.”

  “People are pissed,” Avery said.

  “And if they called nine-one-one and no cops were there to answer, would they still be pissed?”

  “You know it’s more complicated than that.”

  They approached the park, moving down the sidewalk alongside people carrying signs and banners, their talk excited and energetic. An amplified voice came their way, rolling through the streets like thunder. The words were indistinct, but it didn’t matter. The tone said it all—someone was exhorting the crowd to greater heights. Calling them to action.

  “I don’t know how we’ll find her here,” Charlie said. “I thought, you know, maybe a few hundred people to sort through.”

  “Then we can go somewhere else and you can buy me lunch.”

  “And tell Russ Rogers we failed him?”

  Avery groaned. Been there, done that.

  They drew closer. The amplified voice and the cheers of the crowd grew louder. Avery tried to analyze the crowd, categorize them, but they didn’t fit into any one box. She spotted someone from every walk of life. And plenty of people who looked like college students, so Anna would be able to disappear like a scent on a windy day.

  “Should we split up?” Charlie asked. “I can go around the perimeter to the north and then east. You can go along the south side that way. We can meet on the far edge. If one of us finds her, call or text. We’ll cover more ground.”

  “Good plan.”

  “If trouble comes down in any form, get out of the way. Protect yourself.”

  “What about you? Are you going to do the same?”

  “I’ve been doing that for years,” he said. “Mostly with success.”

  “Okay, see you on the other side of the park. Maybe—and I say, maybe—with an unhappy college student in tow.”

  Charlie smiled but didn’t leave.

  “What?”

  “You know, Alisha’s right: Anna really does look up to you. You are her sister. You know?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  He still didn’t go.

  “What?”

  “Let’s talk after this, okay? I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “Sure. Or maybe Anna can pick up the tab since she made us come here.”

  “Okay.”

  He started off in his direction, and she went in hers.

  Avery navigated along the edge of the crowd. As she walked, she shook her head. She was on a fool’s errand. Unless Anna stood right in her path, she wouldn’t be found. She could be standing ten feet inside the park and Avery would never see her. And if she did find her sister, then what?

  Anna refused to answer calls, refused to go home.

  So why would she listen to Avery?

  But something small and diamond-hard glowed inside Avery’s chest. As much as she’d have liked to deny it, to push it away, she couldn’t ignore the presence inside her. She wanted to find Anna and take her back home. Or to Breckville. She wanted to do something for the family, to ease whatever pain or anxiety the old man felt. She hated that it was true, but her family tugged on her like the tides, an ancient force she didn’t fully understand but had to reckon with.

  The crowd started cheering more. A chant erupted in the distance, some sort of call-and-response. One group said one thing, and the other said something else. Avery struggled to make out the words. But the chant triggered a memory in her mind. Anna used to sing when she was little. Once—and just once—Avery had helped her take a bath. Anna must have been about five, and she played with a plastic boat in the water. Anna sang a song she’d heard on a kiddie recording. “Fish are swimming, fish are swimming, look and see, look and see. . . .”

  Watching Anna splash in the water, bubbles in her hair, a goofy smile on her face, Avery had felt . . . what? Tenderness. A sense of vulnerability—both hers and her sister’s. An intense desire to protect . . .

  The feeling had failed to carry through to the rest of their lives. Or it had washed away with everything else as Avery allowed herself to feel more and more alienated from her family.

  Like Anna felt now. They weren’t that different—

  The crowd started to move. The chanting stopped. Only the megaphone voice boomed over everyone, urging them on. The mood felt charged but peaceful. Avery would get a stroll on a beautiful fall morning out of the deal. That was about it.

  Her phone rang. Charlie.

  No way he already—

  “What’s up?”

  “Any sign of our lost pup?”

  “None. If I had another twenty years to wade through the crowd, I might find her. Or if they were all willing to freeze in place while I wandered past them.”

  “There is some good news to report. I just saw this on Twitter. They caught that creep in Breckville. The Midnight Rambler guy.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Nope. They found him with his ass hanging out of a window about two miles from Anna’s apartment. He’s being questioned now.”

  “Okay, maybe he’s the one who killed Kayla. Maybe that’s taken care of.”

  Charlie’s voice sounded distant. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Let’s think positive.”

  “Okay. Look, did you hear that fracas over here?”

  “No.”

  “Some counterprotestors showed up. Started chanting. Things got pretty tense. They went away, but I don’t think they’re done.”

  Avery weaved around a group of elderly women holding a banner made from a bedsheet. “It’s like Woodstock over here. In fact, I think some of these people were at Woodstock.”

  “Okay, be safe.”

  “Charlie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “About Anna. I know . . . I know I can be a better sister. But . . . you know . . .”

  “It’s hard. I get it. Now that the two of you—”

  He suddenly stopped talking. Had the call dropped?

  “Charlie? Are you there?”

  For a moment, nothing. Silence.

  Then shouts through the line. Voices raised in anger.

  “Charlie?”

  “Avery . . .” Four sharp cracks. Gunshots. “Avery, run. . . .”

  40

  Feet kicked Anna. Knees banged against her.

  She rolled over, tucked into a ball. Someone stepped on her hair.

  She turned her body, managed to get to her knees. Just as she did, and felt a sliver of hope she’d get up, a body slammed into her, knocking her back to the ground. She felt grit and dirt against the palms of her hands, stabbing needle points against the soft flesh.

  More bodies pressed against her. She covered her head again, but she received so many blows, struggled so much to get up, she started to lose hope. She might get trampled there. She might not be able to breathe soon. . . .

  A woman fell to her knees in front of Anna. The woman’s face looked blank, her eyes staring straight ahead. Anna heard the report—another shot fired. Something red bloomed on the woman’s chest.

  “Oh, God.” Anna reached for the woman.

  Blood came from the woman’s nose. Eyes wide open, she tipped all the way over like a falling building.

  Hands grabbed at Anna. They slid under her armpits.

  “Anna, get up. Come on . . .”

  Someone lifted her. She managed to get her feet underneath her body and stand.

  Eric. It was Eric.

  He took her by the hand, started working through the crowd. He pulled her close, kept her body against his. He was taller, and his frame provided shelter. Someone bumped against them, and Eric pushed the man away.

  “Watch it,” Eric said.

  “Fuck you.”

  So much for peace and brotherhood. Everybody for themselves.

  “Rachel?” Anna asked.

  “She’s okay. She left the park. I came back for you.”

  “Wow.”

  “Were those shots?”

  “They were. Some idiot started firing on the crowd, I guess.”

  “Stay low, Anna.”

  “That girl back there . . . she was shot. I think she’s dead.”

  They moved toward Jefferson Street, trying to get out of the park. The crowd thinned, parted like a river around a rock.

  “Shit,” Eric said.

  Anna saw them too.

  Cops. A row of them in riot gear. Shields over their faces and bodies. Batons raised. Each of them looked to be seven feet tall.

  A few people got in their way, and the cops knocked them aside like plastic bowling pins.

  “Fuck them,” Anna said.

  “Anna . . .”

  Eric led them to the right, away from the line of cops. He looked like he wanted to get around them, swing around their edge and flank them. But the cops moved fast, and Anna and he couldn’t get around the edge quickly enough.

  The cop on the end, a guy taller than the others, if that was even possible, swiveled his head in their direction. He wore aviator sunglasses behind his face shield, and he looked like a creature from a science fiction movie. Part man, part bug, part cyborg.

  His baton was raised, filling the sky.

  Eric pulled Anna closer, pushed her head down against his chest. She smelled his sweat, felt dampness on his shirt. His grip was strong, like iron. Like he’d never let go.

  “Hang on,” Eric said.

  A dull thudding noise was followed by a grunt. Like a baseball bat hitting a pillow.

  Then they were past the line of cops.

  Eric’s weight shifted. He leaned more on Anna than she leaned on him. She realized she was holding him up.

  They reached the street, limping along like they were in a three-legged race at day camp. Eric breathed more heavily, moved slower.