When she falls silent, I reach across and pull her hand to me, as though my physical hold on her will prevent her mind from drifting too far away.
When we reach Boston, Ethan and Sheri greet our arrival at their house with agitation. Avery immediately pulls out of their frantic hugs and circles behind me, saying she needs air. Without further discourse, she opens the front door and steps outside, coatless, with her breath fogging. I retrieve her from the step and usher her back inside, signaling for our parents to stay back a bit at first.
Once the four of us are sitting at the dining room table, Avery starts to relate what happened, but then she trails off in the middle before she reaches the killing. She glances at me, and I read the look. Without missing a beat, I pick up where she left off, glossing over the more graphic parts.
Sheri and Ethan ask a lot of questions. Under the table, Avery’s hand squeezes my thigh, imploring me to answer, so I do. After a few minutes, they begin talking to me directly, with occasional concerned glances at her face.
Avery’s expression is distant, as if we’re talking about something we’ve read in the newspaper, not something that happened to her, the girl they love beyond measure.
“Granthorpe emailed us, Ave,” Ethan says, glancing between us. “They’d like you to be at the press conference if you feel up to it.”
She grimaces.
“That’s all right, honey. You don’thaveto do anything,” Sheri says.
Avery’s phone rings and buzzes, which it does constantly now. Everyone wants to talk to her. The FBI, the local police in Boston, GU campus police, administrators, people from school who’ve heard rumors that she’s the girl who survived a Casanova attack.
Avery drags the phone to her and turns it off. She looks at me. “They’re going to say it’s him. They shouldn’t until they’re sure.”
We’ve had two conversations where she’s wondered out loud whether Daniel was really Casanova.
“What do you mean, Avery? Itishim,” Ethan says.
Avery’s eyes bounce from my dad to the table before landing on me. “Shane?”
I shrug at Sheri and Ethan. “Avery and I wonder if Daniel might’ve been doing some half-assed Casanova copycat thing, so that Casanova would be blamed for what Daniel planned to do to Avery. Danielwasthe one stalking her. We’re sure of that. The police and the FBI found rosewater in a squirt gun. That tracks with something that happened to Avery. Daniel had lavender roses in his car when he came to the New Hampshire cabin, but the flowers looked days old. Wilted. Not freshly cut like Casanova usually leaves. And law enforcement found a GPS tracker on Avery’s laptop, which she got from downloading software from him when they worked on their class project. None of the other missing girls had that software on their devices.”
My thumb taps the table top. “Daniel asked people about Avery and kept tabs. A girl thought it was creepy and reported it to campus police. The investigation seems to show he didn’t do that with any other women.”
Avery glances out the window. “During the search of Daniel’s place, they didn’t find any trophies from the women who were taken.”
With furrowed brows, Dad glances between us. “The FBI told you all this?”
“No, I’ve got a buddy from high school with an inside track,” I lie.
The truth is I paid for the intel. Having cops on the take is essential to my operation. Turns out they come in handy in other ways as well.
“Well, it doesn’t matter whether he was Casanova or not,” my dad says, looking at Avery. “From the standpoint of the case, you thought he was Casanova. He threatened you and tried to sexually assault you. You acted in self-defense, period. I don’t want you to worry about anything, Ave.”
“I’m not worried. Not about myself.” She tilts her head, her shiny dark hair falling over her shoulder. “I just thought that by killing him I saved other women, and that maybe we could even find out where the missing ones are.” Avery rubs her forehead.
“It’s enough that you saved yourself,” Sheri says. “We’re proud of you.”
“Proud,” Avery echoes. Then her big blue eyes turn to focus on her mom. “You should thank Shane. He’s the one who taught me how to defend myself. It was his knife.”
“We are thankful to Shane,” Sheri blurts. She nods gravely at me. “We are.”
“Good, because without him, I wouldn’t be here. Daniel let me see his face. He wasn’t planning to leave me alive after he raped me.”
Ethan and Sheri both wince and then look wrecked by the mental image those words conjure.
“Okay,” I say, putting a hand on Avery’s back. “Time for a change of topic. We need to eat something.”
“Not hungry.”
“I don’t care,” I say just as quickly. “You’re gonna eat, Ave.”
Her sapphire eyes rise to meet mine, halfway defiant.
