Ava ran right out into the lightning and thunder looking for a space of comfort, and the rain only grew. The cold air swarmed her, nearly forcing her in different directions, until finally she made it to the lake house, inches from her room, soaked and wet and pale when Danny stopped her in the kitchen.
"Hey," he demanded, slapping a piece of paper on the counter, and nodded for her to see it.
Missing: Elizabeth Doma.
She had to clear her throat to speak. "What the hell's this?" she asked, as though she wasn't seeing or hearing anything really. Until she looked up into his calloused expression to understand the seriousness of the moment.
"I was in school, working on an assignment when I heard people talking about her missing." He came to stand closer to Ava and pointed at the paper. "I found this under a couple papers on the school bulletin. And this is the girl your boyfriend left with. Liz, if you care to remember." His brilliant blue eyes glared sharply at her. "Seems to be the last time anyone's seen her."
She looked down at the paper, now recognizing her, and flashed back to Layton leaving with her. Her stomach turned. "So, what are you saying? You think he had something to do with her disappearance? I overheard Trish laughing about how Liz was on a coke bender in Aruba." There was an interesting blend of denial and harsh reality blinding her to the actual present.
"The cops said she got on a plane, and there was coke all over her car... But Jordan pulled some strings. Found out she never boarded the plane. No one knows where she went. I sure as hell wouldn't bet against his involvement. Do you know who you're sleeping with?" Ava's eyes flashed up at him, and Danny shrugged. "Look, if you don't want to stay away from him, then you need to keep him the hell away from us — especially Dahlila. Or you can stay away with him. And if I find out he did anything to Liz, I'll fuckin' kill him." Right before he went to turn, he stopped and added, "And one more thing. Don't think I haven't heard Charles grabbed your ass a few nights ago. And guess who's been missing since? I guess the broken nose you gave him wasn't enough."
He gave her a nod of the head and went to sit back on the couch with Dahlila, who looked tired and seemed to not have noticed anything but the television. Shane was there too. He, however, looked as if he'd picked up on what they'd been talking about, but she'd barely look at him.
Ava grabbed the paper, almost slipping on her way to her room in a daze. She braced her hand on the dresser to hold herself up. The room was spinning.
Guess who's been missing...missing since... Mine... Charles grabbed your ass...you have his attention...Mine...stay clear of the ones with the dark eyes...fear the reaper...dark eyes...dark eyes...dark stranger — no one comes back...Mine...
What had he done? What was he capable of doing? The world wouldn't do this to her — she grabbed her stomach. What had happened to them?
Ava circled herself in the room, looking around for answers that wouldn't come, thinking about her friends being in danger, finally acknowledging the adrenaline from standing too close to the edge. And then her eyes set on the mural on the wall Layton had begun to paint while she was gone, and everything stopped. The entire world seemed to narrow in on it and she felt herself slipping.
It was unfinished. At least the section where he'd outlined himself with only shadows, but her and how he held her was absolute. The detail was breathtaking. And the style was haunting. His point was crystal clear.
Her legs went weak.
As she gripped the bed, she found a note in her hand from him. I miss you, was softly scripted in pencil.
She was nearly crushing it in her shaking hands. And then, written on it at a different time in black chalk, lonely. He must have been here waiting for her to come back. This only hurt her in the gut, forcing a pain that she did not want to feel. The world was spinning again, and she didn't know where to go or what to do.
Ava took a deep breath and made the world stand still. A sweet, cold chill ran up through her.
She needed fucking answers.
She straightened up and went to the wardrobe, grabbed her old backpack, and dug to the bottom. Wrapped safely up in an old cotton cloth, Ava pulled out her old butterfly knives; she loved her butterfly knives. They lit up her synapses like the fourth of July and reminded her of a time when she was good at being bad; that's why they were put away. She didn't have to like what she needed to do, she just needed to be good at it. Someone was going to tell her something. She flipped them open and her eyes gleamed.
"Hello there." Ava bit her lip until she tasted metal and wine.