Chapter 13 - THE RED DOORS
Nora’s school had red double doors that students repainted every spring. She used to say the building looked as if it were always ready to welcome someone in.
It was closed for the weekend. Ruiz called the principal and arranged to enter with officers. Sam waited across the street while they searched.
They found Ava in Nora’s old office.
She had slipped through a side door left unlocked for weekend maintenance and curled up behind the desk with a bottle of water and a sweatshirt. She refused to come out until Ruiz told her Madison had sent them.
I stood in the hallway when Ruiz brought her out. Ava was taller than the girl on Nora’s memory card, but I recognized her eyes.
“Is Emma okay?” she asked me.
“Yes. She’s safe.”
Ava looked down. “Mr. Vale said I had to make Sam come to the library or he’d go after Emma. I got away when we stopped near the bus station.”
“You found a way to warn us,” I said.
“I didn’t know if anybody would believe me.”
Sam came in after Ruiz cleared it. He stopped several feet from Ava.
“Hi, kiddo.”
Ava’s lips trembled. “Hi, Dad.”
He didn’t rush her. He held out his arms, and she crossed the room on her own.
I turned away to give them a moment.
Ava later told Ruiz that Vale had driven her and Celia across three states. Celia wanted Ava to stay with her; Vale wanted the memory cards Nora had hidden. When they saw the motel photograph Ava sent Sam, Vale became furious.
“Did he say where he was going?” Ruiz asked.
Ava nodded. “To get what Miss Nora kept.”
“He knows we have the cards.”
“He said there was one more thing. Something she gave her husband.”
I thought of Nora’s envelope, the mailbox, the rabbit. “She didn’t give me anything.”
Ava studied me. “She said you had it with you every day.”
On the drive home, I tried to remember every gift Nora had given me. My watch. A faded photograph tucked into my wallet. The key ring she’d bought when we moved into our house.
I took out my keys. Attached to them was a small metal tag engraved with our address. Nora had given it to me two years ago, joking that I’d lose my way home without it.
There was a narrow line along one edge.
I pressed it with my thumbnail. The tag opened.
Inside was a tiny folded piece of paper. It held a locker number and a code.
May you like
Before Ruiz could send anyone to the locker, my phone rang from an unknown number.
I answered. A man said, “You found Nora’s last copy.”
