“Got nothing better because I deserve nothing better,” Ava said, spitting out the words. “But you, you got everything, Alex, so pick up your badge and wallet and get out of here before something really bad happens to you.”
When I shook my head it felt like paint cans were swinging from side to side inside my skull. “I’ve got nothing anymore.”
“C’mon,” she said, taking a drag. “You have Bree, Nana Mama, and—”
A rage built in me. “No,” I said. “They’re all dead, Ava.”
She could tell by my tone that it was true. The color drained from her face and she stared at me dully for a long while through the smoke curling in her eyes. Tears began to well and drip down her cheeks. Then she stabbed the butt out angrily and got to her feet as if to go.
“Help me home,” I said.
“I can’t do that. It will be day soon and I have to get safe.”
I blinked, said, “Get me safe first. Please? I think…I know I have a concussion. And I’m bleeding.”
You could tell she was struggling, wanting to leave, wanting—
“Just get me home,” I said. “And I’ll tell you what happened to Bree.”
And then we were two survivors trudging through the predawn streets of Washington. As small as she was, Ava managed to keep me upright as we walked toward my home. The sidewalk seemed like the rolling deck of a ship in hard seas.
But I told Ava everything: how this insane man Mulch had bugged my home, kidnapped every member of my family, and then executed them because John Sampson had come to my door. He’d even sent me pictures on my cell phone. Twice during the telling I broke down so badly I had to hold on to a street sign to keep from collapsing.
The whole time, Ava said nothing, as if this kind of tragedy was to be borne in silence and then never spoken of again. I don’t know how she did it, but she got me to the house. The storms had passed and the first light of dawn was showing in the night sky. The front door was still open. Spring-green oak leaves floated in a puddle in the hallway.
I stood there, gazing stupidly at the leaves floating, until Ava said, “Where do you want me to take you, Alex?”
“Upstairs,” I said.
“You sure you don’t want a doctor?”
“No,” I said as my house began to move. “I just need to lie down.”
And then, somehow, she’d shut the front door behind us and had gotten me up the staircase and into my bed on my back. The room spun slowly like a carousel.
“Ava?” I asked, trying to focus on her to make the whirling stop for good.
I could see she was annoyed at me.
“Bee?” I said.
“Yeah?”
“Did you kill that girl and burn her body in the factory?”
“What?” she said angrily. “No! Elise, she was my friend.”
“We have evidence at the scene, your ID and that sweater Nana Mama gave you.”
“Someone must have planted it there.”
“We have an eyewitness,” I said. “A homeless man named Everett Prough.”
Ava looked disgusted and furious now. “Of course Everett said I did it. Of course he put my things there and told you that.”
“What? Why?” I asked, confused again.
“That homeless getup is Prough’s disguise, Alex,” she said. “He’s a pimp and an ice dealer, but no one looks at him twice when he’s dressed like a bum. Elise owed him money, but only half as much as I owed him. Prough killed Elise and set her body on fire as a warning to me.”