Aubrey crawled over.
Star’s eyes were wide open, her head twisted like a broken doll’s. Beside her, Mama was huddled in a fetal position, her shirt pulled up over her mouth and nose.
“Mama?” Aubrey shook her.
Her mother jerked and opened her eyes. She began to cough.
Aubrey grabbed her arm. “Come. Quick.”
Her mother was confused as she glanced at Star’s wrecked body. Then panic filled her eyes, and she crawled after Aubrey through the gaping wall into the hallway. Behind them, the spitting flames set off another blast.
“Ethan!” her mother shouted over the noise.
Aubrey rushed ahead and opened the door to the garage. She prayed she was right about Ethan, that the movie they’d watched together had left an impression.
Her mother pointed upstairs. “Ethan.”
The upper floor was caving in around them. They had to get out.
“In here, Mama.” Aubrey pulled her mother into the garage, then threw the door closed behind them. She could hear plaster and wood crashing down where they had just been. Only a thin haze of smoke had leaked into the small garage. A white sedan took up most of the space.
Please be here. She opened the rear car door. A blanket covered the space behind the driver’s seat. Had he remembered the movie with the clever little boy?
“Ethan?”
The blanket moved.
She pulled it away.
There he was—wide-eyed, his damp blond curls matted around his head. A small indentation in his cheek from a crease in the blanket. A jumping dolphin on his wrinkled blue T-shirt.
Safe. He was safe.
“Was I brave enough, Aunt Aubrey?” he asked, in his pure, sweet voice.
Her eyes stung. “You were the bravest.”
“Ethan,” her mother said, taking him into her arms. “Oh, my precious boy. Oh, my Ethan.”
Another blast shook the garage. A piece of ceiling crashed down on the top of the car.
“Mama, get in. Quick.” Aubrey gave her a little shove, then slammed the door after her. No time for reunions. The garage was reverberating from the explosions. They needed to get out before the building collapsed.
She felt for a button to open the garage door, but found nothing.
She climbed into the driver’s seat, praying that Janis had left the key in the ignition, in case she and Star had needed to make a quick getaway.
Yes! It was there. She started up the car.
“Hang on,” she shouted.
“Grandma, get down,” Ethan said.
Aubrey stepped on the accelerator. The car began to move. She floored it, squeezing her eyes shut and lowering her head. The wheels squealed.
The car crashed through the wood door. She heard the crack of glass.
Out. They were out!
She opened her eyes. The windshield was a giant cobweb of thin white lines. She couldn’t see beyond. She eased the car into the street.
Behind them came an explosion that rocked the car, scattering pebbled glass.
Her arms shook so badly she was afraid to let go of the steering wheel. The sound of sirens surrounded her. People in uniforms rushed toward them. Smolleck, his tie askew and arms outstretched.
“Aunt Aubrey?” asked a little voice. “Is it safe to come out?”
Glass from the windshield glistened on the passenger seat, on her lap.
Glass like from a smashed snow globe.
“Yes, sweet boy.” Her throat ached. “It’s safe to come out now.”
CHAPTER 53
Hours had gone by. Or maybe it had only been seconds. Someone had wrapped a blanket around her, but Aubrey couldn’t stop shaking. The lights were disorienting, spilling out red, white, and blue, like a Fourth of July gone crazy. Then things came into focus. Sirens blared as people ran from firetrucks, ambulances, police cars.
Aubrey watched black smoke billow out of what once had been the time-share. It reminded her of the gaping hole between two intact buildings in the photo of the brownstone explosion.
Explosion. Where was Mama?
She looked around in a panic, but quickly spotted her mother sitting on an ambulance stretcher, her arms enveloping Ethan. His head rested against his grandmother’s shoulder, eyes closed.
Safe now, and finally able to sleep.
Ethan was fine.
They were both fine, but Mama had refused to let go of her grandson when they were helped from the car. Everyone seemed to understand why and gave her some space with Ethan.
The burning smell lingered in Aubrey’s nose and chest. She couldn’t tell whether her nostrils and lungs were scorched from earlier, or if the acrid odor was hanging in the open air.
She noticed a woman standing beside Detective Gonzalez a short distance away. Feral black hair, a prominent chin. The woman was absolutely motionless as she stared at the burning building.
Aubrey drew nearer. Up close, she could see the woman’s resemblance to the college photo of Gertrude Morgenstern. Gertrude, who had been her mother’s roommate. We were once very close, her mother had said.
And now, here were their daughters. Two women whose lives had been shaped by their mothers.
What had Gertrude done to her daughter to make her willing to go along with her plan to kidnap a child and put his life at risk? Why hadn’t Janis had sufficient will to resist her?
Gertrude’s daughter seemed to sense Aubrey’s presence. Their eyes met. Janis’s were very blue. Pretty, even. Like Star’s.
Like Gertrude’s would have been, behind her pink-lensed glasses.
“Why did you do it?” Aubrey asked.
Janis sucked the thick air deep into her lungs. “My mother,” she said. “She was so sad. I just wanted her to be happy.” She turned back to stare at the smoke rising out of the building.
And Aubrey realized that was exactly what she had been doing her own entire life. Trying to make her parents happy, because she had wanted so desperately to preserve their family. A family she had sensed had been built on a weak foundation, which could collapse from pressure on the tiniest fault line.
The breeze shifted and it began to snow. Aubrey looked at the snowflakes on her arms.
Not flakes.