Chapter 14

Ava tried to concentrate on organizing her Pokémon cards, but she was distracted. Her gaze kept drifting up from the cards. Her attention was drawn to the drawer…the drawer that held the Spriggy's badge.

She turned and looked down the hall, toward her brother's room. His door was open, and she could hear a woman's voice, faint…just a murmur. Ava couldn't make out the woman's words. It sounded like Joshua was on his computer.

Ava turned toward the drawer. Abandoning her card collection, she stood, stepping over to the drawer and looked down at it. Maybe the badge was pretty cool. Just because her stupid brother had tried to give it to her to make up for being mean the night before didn't mean the badge wasn't worth having.

Ava grabbed the drawer handle and pulled. The drawer didn't open. She tried again, but the drawer was jammed. That wasn't something new. Most of the kitchen drawers got stuck regularly. Usually if Joshua or Ava jiggled them right…

Ava tried that. She pulled again. But the drawer was still shut tight.

She turned and braced herself against the side of the counter. She thought that might give her something to push off of so she could pull with more oomph. She grabbed the handle and tried again.

The news reporter on Joshua's laptop was stepping into a lobby that was both the same and totally different than the one Joshua knew. The floor was the friendly old black-and-white checkerboard. The walls were red-and-white striped. Spriggy's posters. Red vinyl benches. Beyond the touchstones, however, the lobby was very different. For one thing, it was bright, lit up with brilliant white light. And it was crowded.

The brunette reporter stepped in front of a cluster of uniformed…

Crash.

At first, caught up in the video, Joshua thought the sound had come from his screen. He quickly realized, though, that the racket wasn't recorded. It was real.

"What the hell was that?" he asked out loud.

Immediately, an answer put him in motion. Ava, he thought.

He quickly set aside his laptop. He jumped up and ran out of his room. It took him only seconds to trot down the hallway. In those seconds, his mind suggested a number of possible catastrophes. He ignored the images and burst into the kitchen. There, he stopped and looked at the floor.

The first thing he saw on the floor was the upside-down junk drawer. It lay at an angle against a battered old flashlight. Around the drawer, an explosion of miscellaneous items - old pens, tacks, scraps of paper, a half-empty spool of thread, a pair of scissors, a couple of business cards, several take-out menus, a tiny purple-haired doll, and the fake Spriggy's security badge - was scattered across the kitchen's faded green linoleum.

Ava was standing over the mess. Joshua opened his mouth to yell at her about being careful, but when he saw the look on her face - and what she held in her hands - his words dissolved in his head. Oh, man, he thought.

Missing its cover page, the thick, stapled packet of paper that Ava clutched was the custody proposal Marla had given Joshua. Clearly, given the crumpled, devastated expression on Ava's face, she'd read the custody summons' header. He'd never seen her look so hurt.

Why didn't I stash that in my bedroom? Joshua asked himself. Stupid!

"I made a mess," Ava said. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Joshua said. The mess was beside the point. How was he supposed to handle this?

"I'm not mad," he said. He held out a hand. "Can I have that?"

Ava hesitated, then she held out the packet of paper. Joshua took the papers, wanting very badly to beat himself over the head with them.

"Look," Joshua said, "they're just papers. They don't mean anything."

Ava wrinkled her nose. She wasn't falling for that. "Then why do you have them?" she asked.

"It's complicated," Joshua replied.

Ava gave him a "Oh, come on." look.

Joshua tried again. "Your Aunt Marla…"

"Aunt Marla…" Ava repeated. She looked down at the old pens, stepping on one, crushing it. "She's really nice to me, but she smells like cigarettes." She made a "something stinks" face. "She seems almost too nice to me, if that's a thing." she added.

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Joshua couldn't help himself. He cracked a smile.

Ava took a few steps closer, stepping on the poor doll in the process. "It's not funny," she said, "so why do you look like that?"

Joshua's smile immediately dropped into a sobering look. "I know, I know," he said. "It's just nice that there's something we can finally agree on." He remembered he had never told Ava about Aunt Marla's miscarriage. It made him feel something close to sadness that Ava never got to meet her baby cousin. He also never told her about Marla's scheme to gain custody of Ava. It seemed clear that she already figured that out.

"You're…just gonna give me away to her?" Ava asked. Her voice was small, forlorn.

How do I answer that? Joshua asked himself. How could he explain the complexities of the situation to a girl her age?

Three sharp raps on his front door saved Joshua from dealing with the issue. Attempting to hide his relief, he turned and strode toward the door. He pulled it back…and his mouth gaped even farther open than the door.

"Celestine?" he wouldn't have been more surprised if he'd found the news reporter with the brunette hair on his front porch.

An avalanche of questions rushed through his head. What was Celestine doing here? How did she even know where he lived? Was this official business? Was he in some kind of trouble?

He looked past Celestine and eyed her black SUV, which was parked in the street beyond his rolling heap. His poor car looked like it was trying to sink down into the gravel drive, humiliated by the comparison of its junkyard appearance next to the SUV's sleek, shiny paint and chrome.

"Hey, Josh," Celestine said lightly. It was the friendly Celestine speaking. She didn't sound official at all.

Joshua couldn't get his tongue to work.

Celestine didn't seem to mind. She looked past Joshua's shoulder, and her eyes widened in obvious surprise. "And hello…?"

Joshua glanced back and watched his sister tiptoe forward. He returned his attention to Celestine and pulled the door farther open. "Come in," he said.

Celestine hesitated, but then stepped through the doorway. She didn't come all the way in, though. She stood in the doorway, blocking it, so he couldn't close the door. He shrugged. It was warm outside after all.

Then he felt Ava come up behind him. He looked down and watched her lean out around him to eye Celestine.

Joshua engaged his tongue. "Celestine," he said, "this is Ava. Ava, Celestine."

"Hello, Ava," Celestine said, smiling. Joshua thought the smile looked a little strained.

"Joshua didn't tell me he had a daughter," Celestine added.

Ava made a stink-face. "Gross."

"She's my sister," Joshua explained.

Celestine's smile relaxed into something more genuine. "Ah. Well, he didn't tell me he had a sister, either," she pointed at Ava. "Love your overalls," she said, giving Ava a thumbs-up.

"Hey, Ava," Joshua said to his sister, "why don't you go play in your room? I'm gonna talk to Celestine, and then we can clean up the mess in the kitchen."

Ava looked back and forth from Joshua to Celestine and back again to Joshua. Shrugging, she said, "Okay." Joshua felt like he'd been beamed into another universe. Ava was going to cooperate? That would be a nice change for him.

Ava rocked up onto her tiptoes and gave Celestine a polite smile. "Nice to meet you." She turned and skipped down the hall.

"You too," Celestine called. She and Joshua both watched Ava go. When she disappeared into her room, they looked at each other. Then they both spoke at once.

"What are you doing here?" Joshua asked.

"Somebody broke into Spriggy's," Celestine replied coldly.

Say what? Joshua thought. Someone actually broke in? How could that be? Was it when he had left at the end of his shift? How could this happen? It was his responsibility to guard the pizzeria, and now, he felt like he'd failed to do the one thing he was hired for.

"What happened?" he croaked out nervously.

Celestine shook her head in disgust. Joshua noticed that the sunlight made streaks in her hair that flashed like light streamers.

"From the look of the place," she said, "I couldn't tell it was the same Spriggy's that I remember. But then again, the place has been shut down for quite some time now."

Joshua couldn't process that. He was distracted by the light show in Celestine's long purple hair.

"I went to take a look myself," Celestine continued. "To me, it looked like someone drove by and saw that the front door was open."

Starting at the word apparently, Celestine's voice took on a different tone. Gone was the light and friendly tone. Her voice became clipped and severe. Joshua glanced up at her face. Her lips looked like they weren't even capable of smiling. They were carved of stone and threatened to crack as she went on.

"It doesn't look like anything was taken. But whoever was there sure had their fun."

Joshua's shoulders stiffened. He clenched his teeth and ground out, "Well, those cameras are everywhere. They must have recorded something."

"They did." Celestine crossed her arms. "I looked, and from what I saw, they captured about eight hours and forty-two minutes…of static." She shivered and gave Joshua a questioning look.

No doubt about it. Joshua was in trouble. But what could Celestine do? She wasn't a police officer anymore, so why was she interrogating him?

Joshua had been joking around with himself when he'd thought about asking for a lawyer, but now he realized this wasn't a joking matter. Even so, it was laughable. And annoying. He was tired of being accused of being a screw-up. But I am. I'm just a fuck-up.

"Right," he snapped. "Okay. Just so we're clear…you're suggesting I had something to do with it!"

Celestine clenched her fists.

Gimme a break.

"Are you saying that you didn't?" Celestine asked.

Joshua lost his temper. "Of course I didn't!" he shouted.

Celestine pulled her chin in and raised her eyebrows. She lifted her hand and held out her palm. Joshua looked down…and saw his prescription pill bottle. It was empty.

"Recognize this?" Celestine asked, her voice shook a little.

Joshua, who had been working up a head of steam that had heated up his cheeks, felt the blood drain away. He was sure he was probably a "look-at-me-I'm-guilty" shade of pale. He swallowed and tried to work up enough saliva to speak. When he finally did, he stuttered out his response.

"It…it…it's not what you think," he said, sounding like it was exactly what Celestine thought. Seeing the disbelieving look in her eyes, he couldn't blame her for it.

Joshua tried again. "They're sleeping pills," he said. "I take them to sleep." He knew that wasn't exactly a stellar proclamation of righteous innocence. A night guard who took sleeping pills on the job wasn't a pillar of virtue.

"I know what they are, Joshua," Celestine said. "It's written right on the bottle." She didn't say, "Duh," but her tone got the sentiment across.

Joshua couldn't come up with anything to say. He was busted, and he knew it. His shoulders slumped, and he hung his head. But then, he felt a stirring of annoyance in his belly. So he'd been sleeping. But nothing had happened while he slept. The place had been fine when he'f left it. How was the break-in his fault?

That thought gave him his words. "It wasn't my fault," he said.

Celestine snorted. "News flash. If you're too whacked out to remember to lock the goddamn door when you leave your shift, accident or not, you're still liable."

"But you were there, too." Joshua said.

Celestine bristled. "I left the building before you did. And it's your job to lock up."

Joshua frowned. "But I was sure that I did." He winced at the whine in his tone. Celestine sighed. Her face softened, just a little. Maybe the whine made her feel sorry for him.

The serious side of Celestine retreated a bit. Still holding the pill bottle, her hand dropped back to her side. Her lips were no longer granite-like. She even reached out and put a hand lightly on Joshua's forearm. Maybe she was on his side after all.

When she spoke, her voice was gentle. "Joshua, what the fuck were you thinking? You're a security guard. Literally, your entire job description is 'Do not go to sleep.'"

Joshua looked at the warped wood floor in front of his door. He really needed to take better care of this place. But when? And with what money? But now, he knew he was just distracting himself. He sighed and looked up at Celestine.

"You wouldn't understand," he said.

Celestine pulled back her hand. "So, help me understand," she said. "I may be a retired cop, but I can still file a report, and this whole situation will be out of my hands."

Joshua glanced down the hall toward Ava's room. He looked back at Celestine. How could he handle this? Could he trust Celestine with his story? Celestine watched Joshua steadily as he vacillated. He probably didn't have much time before…

"Hey," he said, deciding. "You wanna go for a walk with me?"

Celestine looked startled. Then she frowned and looked down the hall. "But what about her?"

Joshua pointed out through his front door. Celestine turned and looked toward the large concrete V that stretched away from Joshua's house, from the opposite of the street. It was a large stormwater runoff.

"We'll only go that far," Joshua said. "I'll be able to see the house from there."

Celestine hesitated. Then she nodded. "Sure."

Joshua followed her out of his house. He closed and locked the door, then he led her down his driveway and across the street. Crossing a strip of gravel, he offered Celestine a hand, and he helped her up a grassy embankment that ran along the narrow concrete storm drain. The trough was filled with a brown, sludgy stream of water.

"Sometimes I sit over here," he said, gesturing at the green slope. "Game?" he asked.

Celestine looked at the scruffy grass. In spite of the recent rain, the tufts of green weren't wet; the sun had dried them out.

"Sure." Celestine lowered herself to the ground, adjusting her pants with a snappy creak.

They sat together in silence for a couple of minutes. The sun settled on the back of their shoulders. Joshua thought it felt like a warm blanket. The water in the storm drain trickled past. In spite of its constant motion, it had a stagnant-pond odor. Maybe not the best spot for a heart-to-heart talk, Joshua thought. But then, what did he know about heart-to-heart talks? It wasn't like he'd had a lot of them.

He cleared his throat. He figured he might as well go for it.

"I used to have a brother," he started. "His name was Sunny."

He glanced at Celestine, and saw she was just a couple feet from him, close enough for him to enjoy that vanilla/apple/flowers scent he'd smelled before. She sat with her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped around her legs. She was at an angle, half-facing the view, and half-facing Joshua. Her gaze was steady and focused only on Joshua. He squirmed a little, but he kept going.

"When I was twelve," he said, "a little older than Ava is now, Sunny was taken. Kidnapped."

Celestine made a little sympathetic sound in the back of her throat, but she didn't speak. She just waited.

"I was there when it happened," Joshua went on. "I saw the car drive away. But the driver - the license plate - I couldn't tell the police anything useful. So, they never found the person who did it." The guilt and helplessness he had felt then, and had carried with him ever since, slapped him like an actual blow to the face. He rubbed his jaw and managed to say, his voice breaking, "They never found my brother."

Celestine didn't say anything, so Joshua forced himself to go on. "So, there's, uh, this theory." He hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain it. "It's psychology, I guess. Maybe neurology. Whatever. It's a theory that we never forget things, even when we think we've forgotten, we really haven't."

Celestine frowned, obviously not tracking. Joshua needed to do a better job of explaining things.

"Basically," he said, "the theory says that all of the events we've experienced, everything we've seen…all of it, even down to the tiniest detail…are stored somewhere in our brain. In our…what do you call them…? Our neural pathways. Like, the brain's highways. The stuff might seem as if it's lost, but it's not. It's just buried. No memory is actually gone. Memories are always retrievable. You just have to know where to look."

Celestine nodded. She seemed to be getting it. "You're talking about witnessing something. We deal with that all the time. Trauma buries stuff."

"Exactly," Joshua answered.

Celestine nodded again. So, your brother. You think you saw the person who took him?"

Joshua shifted to face her. "I know I did!" he said. "I know they're in here." He tapped his head. "Buried somewhere."

Celestine nodded again, this time more empathetically.

Joshua hurried on, wanting to get it all out while she was still following along. "So, every night," he said, "I make sure I dream. I dream that dream, the one where I relive the kidnapping. Over and over. I go back through it, and I search for details. I look for anything that I might have missed at that time. Or anything I might have seen but stuffed away because I couldn't deal with it."

He paused, studying Celestine's face. But it was impossible to read.

"I've tried explaining this to a couple of people, he continued. "And this is the point where they told me I was crazy."

He waited, and because he was still watching Celestine's face, he saw the instant it transitioned. He'd seen this alteration before. It was unmistakable. The narrowing of her eyes, the stiffening of her mouth. The slight spasm of the muscles along her jawline. The woman sitting next to Joshua was no longer the warm and supportive friend she'd felt like when he'd started talking. She was back in that serious mode.

No, Joshua thought. It wasn't serious mode. It was something else.

He watched, mesmerized, as Celestine's irises deepened noticeably in hue. They shifted to a darker shade of brown than he remembered. The color shift was so enormously disquieting, that Joshua felt like he was looking at someone else entirely.

I know what crazy looks like, Josh," Celestine said. Her voice was comfortably human. Hard, but human. "What you're saying…that isn't it." She shook her head, and her gaze drifted past Joshua's face. Her eyes widened, and her lower lip trembled, as if she was seeing right through him.

"Not even close to crazy," she said.

From a nearby gnarly oak tree, which stretched its branches over the slowly moving storm water, a Corviknight cawed. It flapped its gigantic wings and took off, dipping low in front of Joshua and Celestine and then soaring away.

And just like that, Celestine was relaxed again. She reached into her pocket and pulled out Joshua's pills. "So, these?"

Joshua looked at the pills lying on Celestine's palm. He shrugged. "It's not easy finding your way back to the same place every night. It's taken years of practice, and I still need help. The pills," he gestured at them, "they help. So do other things. Familiar sounds, familiar sights."

Celestine smiled and nodded. "Pining for fun…" she quoted his poster.

"...visit Arboliva," Joshua finished. He looked down, suddenly embarrassed.

His embarrassment turned into surprise when Celestine reached over and took his hand. He was so stunned that he almost snatched his hand back, a reflexive movement. He was glad he didn't, though. Celestine's hand was warm and soft. It felt heartwarming, and very welcome.

"I'm sorry," Celestine said.

Pressure welled up behind Joshua's eyes. He felt them begin to moisten. Clearing his throat, he turned and looked down at the concrete trough, as if he was gazing at a gorgeous river instead of a murky storm drainage system. And speaking of storms, he was battling the one that was stirring up from within him, swirling like a forming hurricane over calm water. Years of regret and grief blew up inside of him, threatening to hit landfall and wreak havoc. Joshua blinked away the tears that wanted to spill down his cheeks.

And then, just like that, the emotion was quelled. The storm blew through. Or maybe Joshua was just in the eye of it. Whichever. All he knew was that he now felt clear…determined.

He turned to face Celestine again. When he spoke, his voice was strong. "I can't change what happened to Sunny," he said. "He's gone. That's on me. But the one who took him…they're still out there. I know they are."

Celestine let go of his hand. "And if you find them? Then what?" She cocked her head. Her words sounded like a challenge, but Joshua caught the hint of a twinkle in her eye. He smiled.

"Well then, I'll just kick their door down and make them pay for what they've done. Obviously."

"Of course," Celestine said. "But…" she shook her head. "Not to burst your bubble, but I'm pretty sure seeing someone in your dreams won't get you very far."

They grinned at each other, and Joshua felt something zing inside of him. It was a palpable "wow" feeling that was much more intense than his casual appreciation of her beauty. And the zing felt like it was going both ways. The look Celestine was giving him was one he hadn't seen before…not directed at him anyway. Her reciprocation of his feelings was so strong that he felt himself leaning toward her.

Celestine's cheeks flushed. She looked away from Joshua. "Your sister seems cool," she said. "Is it just the two of you?"

And the moment was over, just like that.

Joshua nodded. "Yeah. Our parents are gone." He hesitated. How much should he share?

Celestine had returned her gaze to him. Her eyes had settled back into their usual soft light brown.

Encouraged, Joshua kept going. "Our mother kind of went bonkers when Sunny was taken. She was…gone. I mean, not gone-gone, but…they called it catatonic depression. She wouldn't speak, she barely moved, for a long time. When she came out of that, she just sort of went through the motions. This continued on for even longer. She acted like a mom, but she wasn't the mom she used to be."

When he paused, Celestine didn't move. Her direct gaze pulled the rest of the miserable story out of him.

"Then she got pregnant," he went on, "and suddenly, I had my mother back. She was cheerful, energetic. She joked and laughed. The whole time she was expecting, she was like that. I didn't know then…I found out after…she thought she was going to have a boy. In her mind, which was still broken even though she was acting normal, the baby would be another Sunny."

Celestine nodded, but her lips were twisted. In sympathy.

"But the baby was Ava," Joshua continued. "And instead of being happy about her baby girl, Mom lost it. Worse than the first time. She just kind of…wasted away. We - our family - limped along like that for another three years or so. Then, on my seventeenth birthday, our Dad died."

Celestine sucked in her breath. "No," she whispered.

"Yeah," Joshua said. "I was already a fucked-up mess. It's hard to be a regular late teen when you're dragging a semi-truck full of guilt. And even when Dad was there, he didn't do much parenting. Mom was AWOL, and spent most of the time in bed. I took care of Ava pretty much from the time she was born. But once Dad was gone, it was all on me, even figuring out how to support her. One of the very few times Mom actually engaged with Ava, she actually struck her! And I mean, she hit her! Can you imagine that? What would make someone do something like that to a kid?"

Celestine's eyes widened, imagining the prospect of a mother who was resentful enough of her own daughter to abuse her.

"Then Mom died," Joshua continued, "and that was it for me. No college. No nothing." He pressed his lips together, once again holding back tears.

Celestine put a hand on his thigh. The warmth flipped his focus from bad memories to the good ones.

"You know," he said, "when Sunny and I were kids, our parents…were like those perfect parents you see on old TV shows. Lots of fun. Gave us tons of attention. Family dinners every night." He bit his lip and lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "We even used to hold hands around the table and say grace."

Celestine squeezed Joshua's thigh tightly. "That actually sounds really nice," she said. Her words sounded genuine, and maybe a bit melancholy.

Joshua sighed. "I always thought it was silly…until it was over."

Celestine looked down at the eddying sludge in the culvert below them. For a full minute, she said nothing. Joshua, talked out, sat silently.

"The way it was with your parents before," Celestine finally said, "it sounds like you were happy."

Joshua nodded.

"And you and Ava…you still have each other," Celestine went on. "From where I sit, I'd say you're pretty lucky, college or not."

She lightly bumped Joshua's knee with hers. He took that to mean she wasn't judging him for his bitterness, and he smiled at her.

She returned the smile, and she gazed at him steadily. Her attentiveness drained the remaining tension from Joshua's body. He felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.

But then, once again, the brown in Celestine's eyes got darker, and her focus, although still on Joshua, blurred. He felt like she had drifted off in her mind. He sensed a startlingly strong disconnect. Something had cut the link that was forming between them. That something, Joshua thought, hinted at a secret, something hidden in Celestine's past. Would she share it with him?

"Did you always want to be a police officer?" Joshua blurted. He wanted to jump-start the personal connection with her again.

Celestine lifted her gaze to his face. "Yes," she said.

Joshua waited to see if she'd elaborate, but she didn't. Still, the one word had said enough. Joshua was sure it contained a novel-sized story. Celestine had reasons for wanting to be a cop. And there had to also be a reason why she wasn't one anymore. She wasn't, however, going to share those reasons with him now.

"I always wanted to be a builder," Joshua offered. "A contractor. Maybe own a construction company." He blew out air. "Maybe in another life."

"I should go," Celestine said. She brushed off her dark gray pants.

Joshua stood and similarly swiped at his jeans. Fragrant blades of grass and a few leaves around his legs settled at his feet.

Joshua and Celestine started walking back toward his house. Joshua glanced at her. "What about your report?" he asked.

Celestine lifted her hand. She still held Joshua's pill bottle.

Joshua tensed. But then Celestine turned and tossed the pill bottle over her shoulder. It bounced down the concrete sides of the storm drain and landed in the dribble of gunky brown water. It began tumbling away from them in slow motion, spinning around and around.

"Promise me one thing," she said.

Joshua looked at her. She was leaning toward him, her irises once again dark brown, her eyes squinted forcefully. Joshua almost physically recoiled from the power of her gaze.

"What?" he asked.

"No more sleeping," Celestine answered. "When you're at Spriggy's, you stay alert."

Joshua nodded, but he was glad he didn't have Pinocchio's nose. He was lying; he wasn't sure it was a promise he could keep.