She hung up. I stood there in the empty apartment, phone in my hand, staring at nothing.
Shane was watching me. Waiting.
"Diaz can't help," I said. "Not officially. But she's taking the attack seriously. The threats."
"That's something."
"It's not enough."
Shane didn't argue. He just stood there, solid and present, the way he'd been standing beside me for over a decade.
"What do you need?" he asked.
I looked around the apartment. At the empty spaces. At the silence where Ava used to be.
"I need to find her."
The next few days blurred together.
Shane came every morning before his shift. Maya brought dinner in the evenings, sometimes with Zoe, who pretended to do homework while watching me with worried eyes.
Garrett appeared at odd hours, silent and steady, fixing things around the apartment that didn't need fixing. Rodriguez stopped by with Maria, who filled my freezer with enough food to last a month and hugged me carefully, mindful of the bruises.
"You're family," she said. "Both of you. She'll come back."
I wanted to believe her.
I hadn't stopped trying to reach Ava. Calls went to voicemail. Texts went unanswered. I'd even tried calling her father's firm.
“Rothwell & Associates,” the receptionist had answered.“How may I direct your call?”
"I'm trying to reach Ava Rothwell."
A pause. The sound of typing.
"I'm sorry, sir. Ms. Rothwell has asked that we not put through calls from this number."
The words landed like a blow.
"Can you just tell her—tell her Brian called. Tell her I'm not giving up."
"I'll pass along the message, sir."
She wouldn't. I knew she wouldn't. But I'd said it anyway, because saying it was the only thing I could do.
The following week, when I was well enough to move without flinching, I went to the hospital.
I knew she was supposed to be on shift—I still had access to her calendar, the one she'd shared with me months ago, so we could coordinate our schedules. She should have been there.
Shane tried to talk me out of it. "You're supposed to be resting. The bruising?—"
"I don't care about the bruising."
He drove me anyway. Didn't argue, didn't push. Just helped me out of the car and walked beside me through the ambulance bay doors, ready to catch me if I stumbled.
The ER looked the same as always. The same fluorescent lights, the same controlled chaos, the same nurses moving between patients with practiced efficiency. I scanned the trauma bays, the hallways, and the break room door.
No Ava.
