‘I wasn’t asking, Detective,’ Mitchell said. ‘Abrahms, take off your jacket.’
Audra resisted for a moment as Mitchell’s strong fingers gripped her upper arm and hoisted her up out of the seat, but then she allowed herself to be guided toward the door. The press had mostly left the meeting room, and Audra could hear them buzzing outside the town hall’s main entrance, waiting to get a shot of her, maybe throw questions at her. They had all been crammed into the makeshift courtroom when she arrived, a constrained murmur running through them as she entered, wrists cuffed, a state patrolman at each arm. Now they were out in the wild and sounded ready to bite.
Mitchell spoke to Whiteside. ‘Is there another way out?’
‘Fire exit out to the side,’ he said, jerking a thumb in that direction. ‘Through the main hall there, over to the right. Probably alarmed, but—’
Mitchell didn’t wait to hear the rest. She dragged Audra toward the large doors to the hall, then through, letting them swing closed. One caught Showalter on the knee and he cursed.
A dozen or more police officers turned to look. The hall had been turned into some kind of operations center, a large map of Arizona mounted on an easel, red pins tracing a line across the state. The cops watched as Mitchell guided Audra through them toward the pair of doors to the right-hand side. A green sign above the push bar declared it an emergency exit. Mitchell didn’t break stride until they reached it. She paused there, nodded to her colleague.
Abrahms draped his jacket over Audra’s head and shoulders, leaving her a narrow opening to see through. She heard rather than saw Mitchell hit the push bar, then the blare of the alarm, felt the heat of the afternoon sun as she was guided out. Not far away, reporters shouted, ‘There, down there, there she is.’
‘Move,’ Mitchell said.
Abrahms holding one arm, Mitchell the other, Audra’s feet skipped over the ground in the alleyway, out through a parking lot, then turning onto a sidewalk. Behind, the sound of running feet. And the voices, calling her name.
‘Audra, where are your children?’
‘Audra, did you hurt them?’
‘Audra, what did you do with Sean and Louise?’
Mitchell’s hand tightened on her upper arm. ‘Just keep your head down, keep moving.’
All Audra could see were her own feet skimming the cracked sidewalk. The footsteps coming from behind, running, passing her.
‘All right, get back, out of the way.’ Showalter’s voice, hard and angry.
‘Audra, where are the bodies of your children?’
Had it not been for Abrahms and Mitchell holding her upright, she would have fallen then. The realization hit her: They think I killed my children. Of course the authorities believed it, but now she knew that the world believed it too. The thought horrified her.
Mitchell said, ‘This way,’ and pulled Audra along another alleyway, back to the main street. Still the footsteps all around, the questions, the shouts, the accusations. Audra focused on keeping her feet moving, not stumbling. All she could think of was getting off the street, out of the way of the reporters.
The dogs, the dogs, they’re chasing me.
A flash of a memory, a little girl near her grandfather’s yard, a neighbor’s terriers scrabbling after her, barking, teeth bared.
Help, they’re chasing me.
She wanted to run, adrenalin hitting her hard along with the fear.
‘Almost there,’ Mitchell said. ‘Almost there.’
They reached a short flight of wooden steps, and now Audra did stumble, her fall caught by her escorts, but not before the edge of a step caught her shin and knee. The voices all around, the questions, reached a crescendo, and she heard the same words over and over, hurt, bodies, harm, children. And their names. They kept shouting her children’s names and she wanted to scream at them to shut up, to leave her alone, to never utter another word about Sean and Louise.
As Abrahms and Mitchell hauled her upright once more, a door opened, and Audra was swallowed by the building’s cool interior. She heard the door slam shut behind her, Showalter’s voice on the other side telling the reporters to back off, now, that’s enough, just back off.
Her arms free, Audra pulled the jacket from over her head, threw it down on the floor. Her heart thundered so hard she felt it in her head, in her neck. The adrenalin had turned to a queasy rattle around her body as she tried to breathe. She leaned against a wall, her forehead against her forearm.
‘You’re all right,’ Mitchell said, breathless herself. ‘Just take it easy.’
‘What was that?’ Audra asked between gulps of air.
‘You’re big news,’ Mitchell said. She bent down, picked up Abrahms’ jacket, and handed it back to him. ‘Didn’t you know that?’
Audra looked to the door, through the glass, and saw the wall of men and women. The microphones and cameras. Showalter with his hands up and out, trying to placate them.
‘Jesus,’ Audra said.
‘Worry about them later,’ Mitchell said. ‘Let’s get you somewhere to sleep.’
Audra looked around, found herself in the hallway of what was once a grand old house, with its wide staircase and high ceilings. A small reception desk at the foot of the stairs, a dozen empty hooks that once held keys on a board behind. A musty scent about the place, the smell of disuse, abandonment, of doors kept closed.
An elderly lady stood by the desk, her gray-eyed gaze hard on Audra.
Mitchell placed her palm at the small of Audra’s back, guided her deeper into the hallway, closer to the desk.
‘Audra, this is Mrs Gerber. She has very kindly agreed to let you a room for a few nights.’
Audra was about to thank her, but Mrs Gerber spoke first.
‘As a mother, I’d like to kick you out on the street,’ she said. ‘But as a Christian, I won’t turn you away. Now, it’s almost a year since I let a room, so don’t expect much. I’ve aired it best I can, changed the sheets and whatnot. There’ll be no meals prepared, I’m not willing to share a table with you, so you’ll have to figure something out for yourself.’
Mrs Gerber reached into the pocket of her cardigan and produced a long brass key with a leather fob attached, the number three barely legible. Audra reached out her still-shaking hand, but Mrs Gerber ignored her, instead placed it in Mitchell’s palm.
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Mitchell said. ‘We can find it.’
She told Abrahms to wait there, then guided Audra to the stairs, up to the second floor. Audra waited while Mitchell unlocked the door, opened it, stepped aside to let her in. The room was modest, a queen-sized bed, a bathroom. The sole window overlooked a garden and the rear of another property, an alley in between.
Mitchell placed the key on a dresser. ‘Lock the door behind me when I leave. I’ll come back this evening, bring you something to eat, some more clothes, some wash things. All right?’
‘Thank you,’ Audra said. ‘For everything.’
Mitchell’s expression hardened, as if Audra’s gratitude offended her. She came a step closer. ‘While I’m gone, I want you to think very hard about what you’re going to tell me. Your children have been missing for at least forty-eight hours now. I hope they’re alive, but everything in my experience tells me they’re not. And everything in my experience tells me you know where they are. When I come back, I want you to tell me. I’m running out of patience with you, Audra. There’s only one way to fix things now. You know what to do.’
The agent walked back to the corner, where an old cathode-ray television sat on top of a dresser. Mitchell pressed a button and its screen flickered into life, the image distorted and jittery. She scrolled through the channels until she found a news station.
Audra saw her own face and felt a cold dread.
‘You better watch this,’ Mitchell said, tossing the remote control onto the bed on her way to the door. ‘Maybe help you think.’
22