Chapter 2 - Two Bowls and a Secret
Gavin stared at the eight dollars on the counter.
Then he looked at Avery.
“You’re serious.”
“Completely.”
“There isn’t any vegetable soup left.”
Avery glanced toward the trash can, where the black liner now held several quarts of perfectly good food.
“I noticed.”
Bobby Alvarez turned away from the grill, opened the refrigerator beneath his prep station, and pulled out a plastic container.
“I have chicken noodle.”
Gavin’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s tomorrow’s lunch special.”
“Then tomorrow we make more.”
“Bobby.”
The cook set the container on the stainless-steel counter.
“Charge her.”
For several seconds Gavin said nothing.
Avery knew that expression.
It was the same one he wore when employees requested a day off, when someone asked why the schedule had changed without warning, or when a customer complained that a coupon should still be valid.
He enjoyed making people feel as though asking for something reasonable was a personal attack against him.
Finally, he snatched the eight dollars.
“Fine.”
Avery held out her hand.
Gavin looked down at it.
“Receipt.”
“You need a receipt?”
“If I’m buying food, yes.”
Bobby coughed to hide a laugh.
Gavin rang up two discounted employee meals and slapped the receipt into Avery’s palm.
“There. Happy?”
“No.”
She tucked the paper into her apron.
“But we’re getting closer.”
Bobby warmed the soup.
Avery found two clean bowls, added bread rolls from the basket that would otherwise be thrown away at closing, and carried everything toward the front door.
Gavin called after her.
“They eat outside.”
Avery stopped.
Rain rattled harder against the glass.
She turned.
“They’re children.”
“They’re not customers.”
Avery lifted the receipt.
“They are now.”
The elderly man eating pie near the register looked up.
His wife smiled.
Bobby quietly turned away so Gavin would not see him grinning.
Avery opened the door.
Cold air wrapped around her immediately.
The twins were still on the bench, but now the smaller-looking one—although they were probably the same age—had pulled her hands inside her sleeves.
Avery crouched several feet away.
“Okay. Good news and bad news.”
The girls watched her.
“Bad news, vegetable soup lost a tragic battle tonight.”
Nothing.
“Good news, chicken noodle won.”
The girl in pink sneakers almost smiled.
Almost.
Avery placed the bowls on a nearby table.
“You can eat inside.”
Both girls immediately shook their heads.
Avery noticed.
Not hesitation.
Fear.
“Okay,” she said quickly. “Outside works too.”
She carried the bowls beneath the awning.
The girls stared at the steam.
Neither reached for the food.
Avery sat on the far end of the bench.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
The twin with the broken shoe looked at her sister.
Her sister whispered, “What if you call them?”
“Call who?”
Silence.
Avery chose her next words carefully.
“I am going to have to call somebody eventually because I can’t leave two kids outside in the rain all night. But nobody is coming near you while you’re eating.”
The twin in pink sneakers swallowed.
“Police?”
“Maybe.”
Both faces changed instantly.
The girl with the broken shoe stood.
Avery raised both hands.
“Okay. No police right this second.”
“They’ll send us back.”
The words came out so quietly Avery almost missed them.
“Back where?”
The twins looked at each other.
It was astonishing how much could pass between two identical faces without a word.
Finally, the girl wearing pink sneakers sat again.
“My name is Emma.”
Her sister looked annoyed that she had spoken.
Emma pointed.
“She’s Ella.”
Avery smiled.
“I’m Avery.”
“We know.”
That surprised her.
Emma pointed through the window toward Avery’s uniform.
Her name tag.
Right.
Avery slid one bowl closer.
Emma grabbed the spoon.
Ella caught her wrist.
“Wait.”
She leaned over the soup and smelled it.
Avery’s heart tightened.
Children should not know to check food before eating.
“It’s okay,” Avery said softly.
Ella looked at her.
“How do we know?”
Avery picked up the other spoon, took a mouthful from the second bowl, swallowed, and set it down.
Ella released her sister’s wrist.
The twins ate.
Not quickly.
That would have been easier to watch.
They ate with the careful concentration of children who had learned food might disappear if they drew attention to themselves.
Emma tore her bread roll precisely in half.
She gave half to Ella.
Ella tucked a piece into her coat pocket.
“For later,” she explained.
Avery looked away for a moment.
Inside the diner, Gavin was watching.
Not with sympathy.
With irritation.
Avery knew she should call emergency services.
She also knew forcing frightened children into a situation they believed was dangerous could make them run.
So she tried questions instead.
“Where did you sleep last night?”
Ella froze.
Emma kept eating.
“Do you know what town you’re in?”
No response.
“Do you know your address?”
Emma shook her head.
“Do you know a phone number?”
Another shake.
“What about school?”
Ella finally spoke.
“We don’t go anymore.”
Avery felt something cold that had nothing to do with the rain.
“Why?”
“Dean said school asks too many questions.”
“Who is Dean?”
The spoon stopped halfway to Emma’s mouth.
Ella whispered, “Don’t.”
Avery nodded.
“All right.”
She waited until both bowls were nearly empty.
Then Emma began coughing.
Not a normal cough.
A deep, chesty cough that bent her forward.
Avery slid closer instinctively.
Ella immediately put one arm around her sister.
“She’s been doing that.”
“For how long?”
“Three days.”
“Does she have a fever?”
Ella did not answer.
Avery slowly held out her hand.
“Can I touch your forehead, Emma?”
Emma considered it, then nodded.
She was burning.
Avery stood.
“We need a doctor.”
“No.”
Ella stood so quickly her bowl tipped.
“No hospital.”
“Your sister has a fever.”
“They’ll find us.”
“Who?”
Ella’s face crumpled.
For the first time, she looked seven.
Not suspicious.
Not careful.
Just seven.
“The woman.”
Avery crouched again.
“What woman?”
Before Ella could answer, headlights swept across the parking lot.
Both twins spun toward the road.
A dark sedan slowed at the entrance.
Emma dropped her spoon.
Ella grabbed her hand.
“No.”
Avery looked toward the car.
It rolled past.
Neither girl relaxed until its taillights disappeared.
Avery’s pulse was beating faster now.
“Ella.”
No response.
“Who are you hiding from?”
Ella pressed her lips together.
Emma whispered, “Miss Celeste.”
Ella glared at her.
Emma started crying.
“She said Grandpa doesn’t want us.”
Avery blinked.
“What grandpa?”
“She said he hated Mommy.”
Ella grabbed Emma’s shoulders.
“Stop talking.”
“But Avery is nice.”
“You don’t know that.”
“She bought the soup.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
Emma reached beneath her shirt and pulled out a thin gold chain.
A small round pendant hung from it.
Even in the dim light beneath the awning, Avery could tell it was expensive.
Not costume jewelry.
Real gold.
A crest was engraved into the front.
Three letters beneath it.
H.W.C.
Emma opened the pendant.
Inside was a tiny photograph.
A young woman with auburn hair stood beside an older silver-haired man in a tuxedo.
Avery stared.
The older man looked strangely familiar.
She had seen him somewhere.
Television?
A magazine?
A billboard?
Ella snatched the necklace and shoved it beneath Emma’s shirt.
“Mommy said if something happened, we were supposed to find him.”
“The man in the picture?”
Emma nodded.
“Grandpa Henry.”
Behind the glass door, something crashed.
Avery turned.
Gavin stood near the register with his phone in his hand.
He had dropped a coffee mug.
His face had gone pale.
Avery pushed through the door.
“What?”
Gavin stared past her toward the twins.
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t a nothing face.”
“I said nothing.”
Avery noticed his phone screen.
A news article was open.
At the top was a photograph of the exact same silver-haired man from the pendant.
The headline read:
HARTWELL INDUSTRIES FOUNDER OFFERS $2 MILLION REWARD IN SEARCH FOR MISSING GRANDDAUGHTERS.
Avery grabbed the phone before Gavin could stop her.
Below the headline were photographs.
Two smiling girls.
Identical.
Brown-haired.
Seven years old.
Emma and Ella Hartwell.
Missing for eleven days.
Avery looked through the glass.
The twins sat beneath the awning sharing the last piece of bread.
Her mouth went dry.
“Call the police,” she whispered.
Gavin reached for his phone.
Then Avery saw something else.
A second message had appeared across the screen.
Unknown Number.
Three words.
ARE THEY THERE?
Gavin snatched the phone back.
Avery stared at him.
“Who is texting you?”
“No one.”
“Gavin.”
His hand was shaking.
Before either of them could say another word, Emma screamed outside.
Avery spun around.
A silver SUV had pulled into the far corner of the parking lot.
A woman was stepping out.
Ella had already grabbed her sister.
They were running.
Avery bolted through the door.
“Emma! Ella!”
The woman shouted from across the lot.
“GIRLS!”
Ella looked over her shoulder.
The terror on her face answered every question Avery still had.
“That’s her!”
Avery ran faster.
“Who?”
Ella screamed the name.
May you like
“CELESTE!”
And then the woman started running after them.
