“Hello, Ava,” Karen said softly, pulling up a chair. “We need to talk about what happens in the dark at your house.”
I looked at the detective, terrified. “They’re downstairs,” I whimpered. “They’re going to find out I talked.”
Detective Walsh crouched down, her eyes locking onto mine with a fierce, terrifying intensity. “They aren’t coming up here, Ava. But to keep them down there, I need you to tell me exactly where to look.”
Chapter 3: The Whisper in the Ward
Karen Holloway had spent twelve years navigating the shattered minds of abused children. She didn’t press. She didn’t demand. She orchestrated the conversation like a delicate waltz, knowing that one wrong step would cause me to retreat into my shell forever.
“You don’t have to look at me if you don’t want to, Ava,” Karen said, pulling out a small yellow notepad. “You can look out the window. You can look at Dr. Grant.”
I stared at the rhythmic pulse monitor. The green line rising and falling was proof I was still alive, despite my best efforts to surrender.
“Ava,” Detective Walsh intervened gently but firmly. “I know you’re scared. But bad people hide their secrets in plain sight. Do Thomas and Rebecca have secrets in that house?”
