Page 101 of The Dead Come to Stay
“I believe we’ve been kicked out of her house,” MacAdams reminded her.
Green merely gave him a sly smile.
“Just let me do the talking on this one,” she said.
***
The day was getting late when Green rang the bell—and this time, Ava answered it herself.
“No. You don’t get to come in and you don’t get to ask questions. My husband has been down at the station for hours and—”
“He’s been released,” Green interrupted.
“Well, he’s not home. And you aren’t welcome.” Ava moved to shut the door. Green wedged her foot and shoulder into the crack before she could manage it.
“Youcannotdo that!” Ava exclaimed. “Unlawful entry—”
“Do you want me to get a warrant? Because I can. And I won’t be quiet about it, either, Ms. Thompson.”
“It’sBurnhope,” Ava corrected. Green didn’t retreat.
“It was Thompson first. And you might be glad of that, eventually. I saw you perform—everyone here knows you’re brilliant. You’re above him.”
MacAdams hung back, a spectator. And so far, he’d not anticipated a single one of Green’s moves. Apparently, neither had Ava.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked.
Green pushed the police sketch through the door.
“This woman. She was trafficked by Foley into this country. The van they kept her in was torched at the dump. We know because her shoes were in there. She’s still missing and in trouble. Now... you said you cared, and I’m asking you to prove it.”
Ava didn’t say anything for a moment, as though each of Green’s sentences had to make an emergency landing in her mind.
“Her shoes,” she said finally, and opened the door. “God.”
Ava was wearing the same shimmering duster from earlier in the day, but her gait was no longer ethereal. She walked, heavy soled, on the earth the same as anyone, stopping when she reached the kitchen.
“Do you want tea?” she asked, and MacAdams had the distinct impression she was speaking only to Green.
“No, thank you.”
“You won’t mind if I have some,” Ava said, pouring from a carafe into a nearby mug. She wrapped her fingers around it, held on without drinking. A talisman, or something for her hands to do. “What do you want, Detective?”
“The truth,” Green said. And Ava... laughed. It was an empty, sad sound. The only sound. MacAdams realized he could hear no children.
“Doesn’t everyone,” she said. “They aren’t here, if you’re wondering. I sent the children to my mother’s. And Maryam, too.”
Green walked farther into the kitchen and leaned against marble countertops.
“You’re angry, aren’t you?” she said quietly to Ava. “But not at us. I’m guessing you didn’t know about Dmytro and Foley.”
“Stanley told me this morning, after you left.” The pale lashes closed slowly before opening again. “Because he knew I’d find out eventually.”
“Foley wasn’t just bringing artifacts into the country. He was bringing people. A person, anyway. And she’s carrying his baby.”
The mug hit the counter hard enough to spill tea over the lip.
“Everything I’ve worked for is wrapped up in refugee work,” Ava said, turning away. She delivered the rest while staring at the cupboards. “I gave up my career for this—for my children and people like them. For Maryam. For the charity.”
