Page 144 of Shelter
“What can I do?” I asked.
Cole sighed. “I can’t wait around for her to just come back. Or worse. I have to look for her.”
“I’ll come with you,” I blurted. Ed would understand. Besides, I almost never took time off.
“No, no. That’s not why I called,” he said, his voice softening around the edges. And now I heard his vulnerability, his weariness. It made me want to rush to him. “I just wanted to tell you what’s going on and… just talk to you.”
The ache in his voice clutched at my heart. “Let me come with you. Let me help.”
“No. I’m going to head downtown. Jefferson Street Pub is closed, but Marley’s is open, and some of the other bars will open in a few hours. Someone might have seen her.” He sighed again. “That night we went to the gallery, it surprised me how many vagrants there were downtown. It wasn’t like that before.”
“Yeah, it’s changed a lot the last few years,” I said, wincing. Downtown after dark was not the best place for a single woman without a car or a phone.
“I’m thinking maybe one of them saw her too. I don’t know where that’ll lead, but I don’t want you coming with me.”
“But you shouldn’t have to go by yourself—”
“I’m used to it,” he said grimly. “Besides, it’ll be a lot tamer than the Quarter.”
I couldn’t argue with that. But I could still argue with Cole. I had years of experience. “I don’t just want to sit around and wait to hear from you.”
I might have heard a choked chuckle at my objection. “Of course you don’t,” he muttered. “Look, I might be a while, but if you want to come over to the house after work, that actually would help. Ava might still think she’s getting away with something. She might think she has until six o’clock tonight when I usually get home. You could come here and—”
“I could come now.”
“Don’t come now.” His tone left me no room. “You’re working. And Ava isn’t your problem. She’s my problem. I have to deal with this.”
“But Cole—”
He talked right over me. “I’ll leave a key for you in the mailbox. And I’ll be in touch. I promise,” he vowed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I really hope I get to see you tonight.”
“I do, too,” I managed, but there was so much more I needed to say.
“Bye, babe.” And then he was gone.
I stood there in the workroom staring at my phone. For the second time in my life, Cole had just asked me to do nothing but wait while he tried to save his family.
“Well, fuck that.”
* * *
I knewCole was headed downtown, bent on interrogating anyone who might have seen Ava last night. I could find him and insist on joining him, or I could look for Ava on my own. I left the store without knowing where to start, but I couldn’t sit still.
Maybe I could just drive, covering the downtown area in ever diminishing circles. The thought alone made me dizzy, but if Ava were roaming on foot, I might spot her. The plan, though weak, was better than nothing. At least, I thought so until I crossed the intersection of Johnston Street and South College and blew past The Yoga Garden.
The Yoga Garden.Ava’s yoga studio.
I turned onto Twin Oaks, quickly made a U-turn, and pulled into the gravel drive of the rambling, pale blue house that had been converted to a business. I’d never been inside, but it was one of those places that looked inviting. Peaceful.
I parked in front and climbed the steps of the slate-gray porch. A tinkling of bells announced my entrance, and as I stepped over the threshold, I found myself in a bright, welcoming space with tonal music rising from hidden speakers. One side of the room looked like a tea shop with a couple of mismatched tables and chairs. The other was a little boutique that featured shelves of teapots and mugs alongside apparel models wearing yoga tops and tights. This front room stood empty, but from the back of the house, I could hear a muffled voice and a sound like wind or water rushing.
It was breath. The sound of perhaps a dozen people sighing. A yoga class. The sounds, the clean, tranquil space, the cheerful colors, everything about the place had me breathing deeper than I had all day. I could see why Ava had been drawn here — if, in fact, she’d been telling the truth about coming.
I hoped to God she had. I knew a simple, innocent explanation was probably too much to ask for, but I sent up a silent prayer for it anyway. The last thing she needed was to relapse. And if she had, I hated to think what it would do to Cole.
If I were being honest, I feared that most of all.
“May I help you?”
