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I push back from the laptop, a painful knot in my throat. Burglary? Murder? Was it Ramona? I have to search the coroner’s report… Would they know who she is? Does she have any family?
Several more clicks, and I’m at a news website. It gives no names. It very briefly describes a robbery gone wrong at the Shenandoah apartments five nights ago.
Five nights? That can’t be right. Was I watching the wrong street? I’m so confused, but I continue reading.
The apartment had been ransacked as if the intruder was searching for something. Police suspect the owner returned home and caught the burglar in the act, which caused him or her to panic and ultimately strangle the victim. The victim’s name is being withheld until next of kin have been notified.
With trembling fingers, I go to Freddie’s database and use it to search the Miami-Dade coroner’s records. Going back five days, the sight of her name hits me like a punch to the stomach. Ramona Lewis, followed by her address.
How could she be dead so long and no one know about it? Didn’t she have any friends? Sadness washes over me so forcefully, I lean my forehead on my hands. The only image I have of her is the dark-haired girl with no smile. The sixth grader who suffered who knows what, ultimately strangled to death.
A hot tear slips down my cheek, and I push away from the desk. My whole body is trembling. Taking deep breaths, I pace the large office before going to the window. I didn’t get to her in time. I didn’t save her.
If she’d had the money, she could have found a different apartment in a better location. She could still be alive. The thought drives me back to the laptop. I quickly type in Emily’s Maryland address. Her house is small, but the exterior is quaint Americana. It looks peaceful and normal.
A few clicks and my view of Grace’s flat is up in another window. It’s also quiet, and for several minutes I stare at the sidewalks. I watch the same short woman in her grey coat walk a little dog up the lane.
Seventy-five thousand dollars won’t last forever, but I remember when Zelda and I were living on the streets, doing whatever we could to survive. It would have changed our lives.
Clicking around the screen, I’m back on the newspaper article. The victim was strangled to death…
Pressure tightens my brow, and I don’t want to be in this room. I go to the window and look out at the ocean rolling over itself far below. I rest my head against the glass and watch it repeat the motion, over and over, oblivious to the events happening on land. No matter how horrible we are, it keeps churning, day after day until the end of time.
“I’m so sorry, Ramona,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you.”
Chapter 9
Rowan
Our rooms are dim when I arrive at the suite. The doors facing the ocean stand open, allowing the light from the setting sun to illuminate our chambers, but the sitting room is empty.
“Ava?” I walk through the space to our bedroom, tension clutching my shoulders.
I see a lump in the bed and realize it’s my wife. She’s curled under the blankets, and I hear a noise like a sniffle. I’m at her side at once. “Ava, what’s wrong?”
Sitting beside her, I smooth her damp hair away from her face. Her slim hand comes up and covers mine, squeezing it in a tight grip. She’s still curled, and I remove my shoes, lifting her hand to kiss it before I stand and discard my suit coat and tie.
“Tell me why you’re crying.” I’m in the bed behind her, curled around her body.
Her arm goes over mine around her waist, and she takes a moment to clear her throat. “I was too late. I didn’t help her in time.”
My mind races through the last few days. “One of the orphans?”
She shakes her head. “No.” A tremor is in her voice, and I tighten my hold around her. “One of the girls… from Florida.”
“The ones you were searching for?” She nods in response, and I try to think. “What happened? Was she sick?”
“She was killed in a robbery. Five days ago”
Pulling back, I can’t hide my alarm. “Killed?”
“I never even had a chance to send her the money. It might have saved her.”
Confusion lines my brow. I’m not sure I’m following her logic. “Darling…” I pull away, turning her to face me. Her eyes are watery with tears, but she’s still so beautiful. “How can you possibly blame yourself?”
“She lived in a bad part of town. Someone broke into her apartment, and the police think she caught them in the act.”
A dark feeling of menace pricks at my mind. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
