The woman stepped back onto the sidewalk, leaving six feet between them. She lowered her face covering. “Mrs. Imani Banks?”

Imani knew what the woman wanted before she said it. However, she waited for Detectives Linette Calvente and Roger Powell to introduce themselves and formally request to speak with Ava before saying what she’d planned to the moment they’d arrived. “Can’t this wait? Ava learned of her father’s death half an hour ago, and her mother should be present when you speak with her.”

“Mrs. Banks, this is about finding her mother,” Detective Calvente said.

“We can imagine what Ava is going through and understand your concerns,” Detective Powell added. “But interviewing her now, when things are fresh, could help us figure out what happened and where her mom is.”

Thousands of hours listening to people speak had taught Imani to pay attention to both what people said and the way they said it. The detectives had removed their masks and socially distanced so that they would seem nonthreatening, but their resting hands had remained on their hips near their weapons, on alert for an attacker rather than folded in apology. Their words, too, belied that their main goal was to help Melissa. Police figured out motives and found evidence. They rescued victims.

Imani grasped the doorjamb, barring the officers from entering while simultaneously bracing herself. She lowered her voice to a level that she hoped would be inaudible in the neighboring room. “Do you think Melissa’s dead?”

Detective Calvente responded with an accusing stare, as if Imani were admitting something simply by posing the question. “Do you believe she’s dead?”

Imani tightened her grip on the door’s edge. “I think there’s a child in there who can’t handle hearing about the murder of another parent at the moment. I think, as long as there is hope, she should be allowed to hold on to that.”

One of Detective Powell’s hands dropped from his hip. “We currently lack evidence to support that. If she’s in danger, whatever Ava knows could help us save her.”

He’d stumbled upon the magic word. Imani’s hand dropped from the door. She stepped back, inviting the officers in. They didn’t pull up their masks as they entered, and Imani didn’t ask them to. It would be better for both her and Ava to see their full faces.

Imani pointed to the living area beyond the dining room. There was a couch in there across from two swivel chairs with a coffee table between them. “If you take the seats, we can talk in there,” Imani said, already negotiating. She needed to establish that this conversation would involve give-and-take. They would not be allowed to use her home as a cozy interrogation room to callously extract information from her best friend’s daughter.

“Where is Ava?” Detective Calvente asked.