Empty bed. No one on the floor.

Backtracking, I began to nudge open the other doors.

Boy band posters on the walls, photos wedged in around a white vanity mirror, floral sheets on a king single bed.

Manaia’s room. Nowhere for anyone to hide.

The next door exposed a set of tasteful velvet armchairs in front of a large window, and a generous-size bed covered with white-on-white embroidered sheets. Had to be the master bedroom.

Walking in, I saw quickly that it was empty.

I checked the walk-in closet, as well as the attached bathroom and toilet just in case, but all proved empty. Neither did I find Elei or Cora in what looked to be a home office, or in the spare bedroom by the stairs.

Sweat starting to bead along my forehead, I went to open the door of what I figured must be another toilet or bathroom. It wouldn’t budge. I tried again without success. It wasn’t that something was keeping it shut from the other side—it was that the door seemed locked. I banged on it, listened.

Was it my imagination or was someone moaning back there?

Bending as much as possible, I looked at the door handle and saw it had one of those tiny little twist things you could use to open up the door from the outside if a child accidentally locked themselves in. It couldn’t be used to lock an adult in—unless you’d destroyed the unlocking mechanism on the other side . . . or someone had locked themselves in on purpose.

I began to search my pockets. I needed something small and thin enough to fit into the tiny slot so I could twist it open.

No coins in my pocket, not even a stray paper clip.

Giving up on that option, I made my way back into the master bedroom and to the vanity, where I’d spotted the shine of jewelry and possibly money. All of the coins proved too big to fit in that slot. Then I saw a bracelet with small dangling discs on it.

The discs might just be thin enough.

I returned to the locked door as fast as possible, which wasn’t exactly cheetah speed. The little gold disc fit. I twisted left, the rhyme my mother had taught me playing in my head: Lefty loosey, righty tighty.

A distinct clicking sound.

Success!

It was only as I pushed the door open that it struck me that I might be about to come face-to-face with the perpetrator. But no, that made no sense. Alice couldn’t have locked anyone in here, and if it had been Cora or Elei who had locked the perpetrator inside, they’d have been downstairs calling the police.

“Oh, damn.”

A wild-haired Elei sat slumped against a huge white claw-foot bath, her hand to her forehead. Her fingers were wet with scarlet when she brought them down, her eyes dazed. I couldn’t see any other injuries, so it looked like someone had shoved her in here hard enough for her to fall and hit her head and probably pass out.

“Elei,” I said gently. “It’s Aarav from next door.”

She stared blankly at me before terror blazed to life in the dark of her eyes. “Alice!” Scrabbling to her feet, she pushed past me, almost sending me flying.

By the time I made it downstairs, she was sitting beside her daughter, crying. Her soft, wrinkled hands stroked Alice in the rare areas where her daughter didn’t appear to have wounds or bruises.

“There’s not much else I can do without equipment.” A tightness to Calvin’s voice, his jaw working. It was the first time I’d seen him evidence such open distress. But the man had become a doctor for a reason.

“Why don’t I go outside and flag down the ambulance?” I offered. “Elei, will you come with me? You’re more mobile and can run over if they stop too early on the road.”

It was fast-talking bullshit, but I didn’t have much time.

Elei blinked, but struggled onto her feet. “Yes, we make sure.” Bending, she pressed a kiss to her daughter’s battered face before heading out ahead of me.

Transcript

Session #14

“I’m tired. Sometimes, I want to tell.”

“Tell?”

“About what I did. I know I was justified, but I want the world to tell me I was justified. Isn’t that stupid?”

“You grew up without a lot of external validation. It’s not unusual that you’d feel the need for it—but I’m afraid I don’t understand your reference to your actions. What did you do?”

“Something bad.”

45

After a short delay while I used the intercom panel in the kitchen to remotely open the Cul-de-Sac gates, I found Elei standing in the main drive, ready to wave down the ambulance. The sound of a siren was just beginning to float into the air in the distance. Taking my face in hands made rough by dried blood, she said, “You help Alice. Like pretty mama help Alice.”

The pieces crystalized into a discrete sliver of knowledge. “Cora did this?” When Elei nodded, I said, “Did my mother have Cora beaten as a warning not to touch Alice?”

Another nod. “Beat Alice. Cora beat.” She lifted her left hand, made it into a claw, as Cora’s hand had become after the beating. “This. Cora remember. Long time.”

“Why tonight?”

“Cora hit.” She mimed a backhand slap with her right hand. “No now. Before.”

“Cora hit Alice again before tonight?”

“Yes, yes. Three times.”

And no one had wreaked vengeance, making her bolder.

“Today use . . .” She thrust her hands into her hair, the icy wind blowing her blue-and-white housedress around her. “Manaia, my Manaia.” It was a sob.

Softball gear abandoned in the kitchen, complete with a professional-weight bat.

Cora’s left hand was damaged, but she could still swing hard with her right—Alice might’ve gone down under the first blow if Cora had caught her unprepared. “Cora has to know this’ll put her in jail for a long time.”