One of my most trusted guards, and the most technologically savvy, Freddie Arnaud has been at my side for years—along with his partner Logan Hunt.
“And what do you need Freddie to do?”
She exhales a light sigh. “A few of the children… the refugee children… I want to track down their families—or at least someone who knows them.” Her voice goes quiet, and she looks down. “I hate for them to be alone, and they’re surrounded by such hatred.”
The familiar anger burns in my stomach. In part, because I know Ava’s past as an orphan, losing her family and being alone with only her sister Zelda to look out for them. On the other hand, I’m angered by the fear sweeping the continent, causing good people to pull away and demand alienation from countries we’ve been frie
ndly and cooperated with for generations.
“We’re fighting enemies who hide among our friends. Everyone is paranoid.” I take a sip of wine. “Even Reggie is demanding I do something.”
Worried eyes meet mine, and she places her glass on the end table before moving into my arms on the couch. Our chests press together, and her cheek is on my shoulder. We’re wrapped in a comforting hug. I slide my hands along her back.
“I’m sorry,” I say, lifting a thick coil of hair off her neck. “Now I’m the one spoiling our evening.”
“It’s why you were so tense earlier.”
“How could you possibly have known?” I’m smiling now, thinking of how amazed I was at her intuition about my mood.
Her head tilts, and she looks up at me. “When you’re frustrated by a problem, your brow lowers.” She lightly touches between my eyebrows with her fingertips. “Your shoulders seem broader.” Her hand moves to my shoulder, down my arm to my hand where she threads our fingers. “Your fists tighten.”
I can’t help a laugh. “Who knew I had so many tells?”
“It’s part of how I grew up. Reading body language.”
My arms surround her again, and I press my lips to her temple. “Of course you can work with Freddie. Tell him I said to give you access to whatever you need.”
She lets out a contented sigh and kisses my skin. “Thank you. It means more to me than you know.”
“You mean more to me than you know.”
Chapter 2
Ava
My heart beats too fast. I’m nervous, and I hate not being completely honest with Rowan. Still, I have to do this on my own. It’s a secret I share with three other girls, and I don’t have the right to bring anyone into it without their permission.
Also, the last time I obliquely mentioned my childhood abuse to my husband, he got so furious, I was afraid he might declare war on America… or at least the state of Florida.
“Rowan doesn’t need to worry about this,” I whisper to myself, alone in our quiet bedroom at the palace. “I’ll handle it myself, and then it will be over.”
The wallet is in my hand. The aged leather is cracked at the seam, and the exterior is faded black. Lifting the side, I pause at the photo holder. It contains three aging photographs I’ve looked at so many times, I have them memorized. Still, the pen is in my hand, and I write their information on an index card I’ll take when I meet Freddie. I don’t want to make any mistakes.
The first is a little girl with huge, haunted blue eyes. A sprinkling of amber freckles dusts the bridge of her nose, and her stringy blonde hair is parted down the middle and styled in two skinny braids on each side of her head. Emily Farther, third grade, is written on the back.
The second is also blonde, only her hair is tinged with ash. It’s a color people used to call “dishwater blonde.” She has thick shag bangs that stop at her eyebrows, and instead of looking haunted and afraid, she’s smiling as if nothing is wrong. Grace Hawkins, fifth grade.
Third is a brunette girl with olive skin. No freckles, no smile, she stares at the camera as if she has nothing to smile about. She isn’t sullen, but she isn’t happy. She isn’t optimistic like a child should be. Ramona Lewis, sixth grade.
The fourth is Ava Wilder, ninth grade.
My hair is a short bob I’d cut myself. I’d been trying to make myself look unattractive, but like a defiant child, my hair simply curled in thick waves around my ears. The caramel highlights made my sapphire eyes glow, and even though I’d been scared as shit, you’d never know it by this photograph.
As I’m copying down their information, it dawns on me… We were getting older. He was growing braver. I’m sure I wasn’t the last of his victims, but I have no way of knowing who else is out there. I have to stick to these three.
Turning the billfold to the side, I check the long pocket. The note is there. It has always been there, waiting. When I’d taken Dwayne Vega’s special wallet, I’d only wanted my picture back. My plan had been to retrieve my property and throw his in the canal like a piece of trash.
Everything had changed when I saw that piece of paper.