“You could,” Matty pleaded. “You could—”

“No.”

The quality of his own voice twisted Jack’s insides.

Ava stared at him and then turned away.

Jack put out his hand abruptly—to touch her, to say something, explain—but she jerked backward and stumbled as though struck. She caught herself, turned, and went aimlessly to the fireplace.

With her back to him, she picked up a can of food. A cereal box. Her fingers gripped the sides.

He looked down. He set the cup on the piano.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Matty scowled at Jack, who spoke again, more gently.

“I’m sorry.”

She didn’t look at him. “I don’t like to be touched is all.”

Wind gusted and shook the roof. She turned toward him then, and sunlight gleamed from above and obscured her so he couldn’t read her expression. When the light changed, he saw that her face had paled. She walked to the duffel and put the food inside and picked up the grocery bag. Her skin lit bright with sunlight. The heart on her wrist.

“Let’s go, then,” she said. “I’ll take you wherever you want. I’ve got some money you can have.”

Jack blinked. “Why are you helping us?”

“Because you need it.”

He flushed at her bluntness. “Who are you, anyway?”

She hesitated. That look came into her eyes—the one he’d seen at school, a flash in deep water—and passed.

“I’m not your enemy,” she said.

They watched each other.

I need your help.

That was Jack’s thought. It was something he didn’t want to admit.

Matty broke in: “We should go.”

Jack did not look away from Ava. The cold air. Her eyes on him.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

XXII

People say you shouldn’t look back. In the Bible, they told Lot’s wife not to look back at where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back.

I look back too.

What was I thinking then? When I jerked away?

I’m thinking of you, Jack.

You can’t know who I am. If you did, you wouldn’t trust me. You don’t trust me now, even. I see that. You don’t let anyone in, do you? I don’t either. But if you knew … I think you would hate me.

You’re hurt. I don’t want you to get hurt worse.

Or Matty.

I want to help you.

But I want more than that.

A lot more.

The thing I want is justice. My heart beats with the want of it. My chest aches with the need. I want Bardem to pay. I want him to fail. I want him to fall. I want to see him on the ground.

Sometimes I feel the salt forming on me. I taste it on my lips. I am a pillar.