Ava’s eyes caught the corner of a leg sticking out of a blanket. A homeless man sat up from a bench near the entrance of the park, eyes wild and body swaying. Their gazes locked for a moment and Ava fought back the pang of sympathy and kept moving. If not for her mother, she might have been him.
She crossed the road at the entrance to the park, headed back to the hippodrome and the relative safety of the heavily touristed areas. Her camera banged against her hip as she walked. Normally, it would be out. She wouldn’t pass up a chance to capture the smiling couple or the woman rolling out bread in a window. She would have captured the small dog watching the young woman tying a carpet in a store window. The two boys ducking behind a display in a shop. Snatches of life in the city. Family and friends going about their lives.
It was a bittersweet triumph, to capture moments she would never have.
The stranger’s voice still followed, the lone bright thread running through the tapestry of the Sultanahmet. It was as if a single voice whispered to her, not off-key, but in a melodious timbre that stroked her mind. It wrapped around her as it had the day before. She had known it followed her, but she felt no instinct to run. The voice called to her, tempting her to turn and follow it. Urging her to abandon caution and seek it out.
The tone of the stranger’s voice revealed his mood, though the meaning was still a mystery. Disbelief, frustration, and hope, all wrapped together. Ava ignored the urge to turn, stubbornly focusing on navigating the streets, dodging traffic, and avoiding the frightening swarms of tourists trailing mechanically behind the cruise ship guides.
Despite the crowds, she couldn’t stop the thrill and awe as she passed Aya Sofia and the Blue Mosque. She loved it here, which had been a surprise. Ava hadn’t loved a city in a long time. But this city was seductive. Layer upon layer of history. East meeting West. Modern colliding with ancient. Istanbul had been a revelation of the senses.
The stranger’s voice was still following her when Ava turned the corner near her hotel, almost jogging up and down the completely unnecessary hill the house sat on. If you didn’t look closely, it might have been no more than a very gracious residence in the heart of the city. In reality, it was an exclusive hotel that catered to travelers looking for luxury, safety, and privacy. Made of wood in the Ottoman style, it was almost plain from the front. But as she approached, a guard opened a door, letting her into the cool interior of the refuge, searching behind her when he saw the hint of panic still evident on Ava’s features.
“Ms. Matheson?” he asked in lilting English. “Is there a problem?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks. I thought… It was just my imagination, I’m sure. Is the roof garden open?”
The guard’s eye widened. “Right now? It is open, but the day is very hot, miss. Perhaps when the sun goes down—”
“It’s fine.” She shot him a tense smile. “I just need some privacy.”
“Of course.” He nodded and lifted a hand toward the elevators, but Ava didn’t want to chance that someone might join her. Voices always grew more agitated in confined spaces, and the elevators in the hotel were small. She walked toward the stairs instead. Her phone was already out and she was dialing her mother’s number when she pushed the door to the terrace open. Sunlight flooded over her, baking the tile that covered the roof. Ava took shelter under one of the generous shade covers that marked a quiet corner. As she suspected, the terrace was deserted. Keeping away from any windows or open doors, she let the phone ring across the world in Los Angeles.
“Hello?” Lena Matheson answered in a groggy voice. “Ava, what’s wrong?”
It was just past midnight in L.A.
“Did you and Carl hire someone local?”
“What?” She heard Carl’s voice in the background, a quiet growl that her mother shushed. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you hire someone, Mother?”
There was a quiet huff. “Well, really, Ava, what did you expect? You asked Carl to have pepper spray delivered to your hotel. He—”
“That’s precautionary, Mom! I do that anywhere I’ve never been before when I’m traveling alone.” A tight, nervous part of her stomach relaxed. It wasn’t a stranger after all. Despite the unusual voice, the man following her was just another guard hired by her overprotective mother and stepfather. Nothing she couldn’t handle.
“Just go about your business and ignore him. He has a job to do, and you know Carl won’t fire him.”
No, but he might hire more if he got wind of the incident in the alley today. “This is Istanbul. It’s very safe as long as you’re smart. I’d probably be in more danger traveling in New Jersey. You really don’t need to—”
“Have you forgotten Cassie Traver? She was in Paris and she was kidnapped. Let’s not take any chances, Ava. You know how he worries.”
“Just tell him to keep his distance. I know you won’t fire him, but I don’t want to see him anywhere near me.”
“Do you want to talk to Carl?”
“What do you think?”
There was a heavy pause on the line. “Okay. Are you… having fun?”
She heard Carl growl again. Her mother covered the phone with her hand.
“It’s late, Mom.” Ava swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ll call you back another time.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll just—”
“I gotta go. There’s someone I need to meet with. For work.”
“Call me back tomorrow?”
“I don’t know—”
“Later, then. Just call me later.”
“Sure.” Ava collapsed in one of the luxurious chairs under the shade and ran her fingers along the frond of a potted palm. “I’ll call you later.”
“I love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye.” Ava hung up before Lena could say anything more, then stared over the rooftops of Istanbul, far above the crowds.
Silence. At last, silence.
Ava started early the next day. She’d been to Topkapi Palace before but had woken when the first prayer calls floated over the city and couldn’t get back to sleep. She lay in bed for a few hours, loading and editing work on her laptop, then decided to beat the crowds and some of the heat. She headed toward the opulent palace in the center of the old city, walked past the first gate, and started working.
Photography had been her escape for years. There was something about the intense visual focus that helped Ava block out the voices around her. She could get lost behind the lens. An observer instead of an outsider. She snapped pictures of the stunning architecture, trying to capture it from unique angles in the morning light. But more and more, she found herself drawn to the people who began crowding the various courtyards.
Whispers of excitement.
Routine hums.
The clear, pure thoughts of the youngest children, uncluttered by the static of their parents and guardians.
And each and every one completely unintelligible to her. She recognized common words and phrases. She could probably quote things from memory, though she had no idea what she would be saying. People’s inner voices didn’t work the way their spoken voices did. They thought in slips and starts. Their minds drifted from one emotion to another, often so quickly it made her ill.
“Excuse me,” she said, working her way through a tour group and toward an empty corner where she could watch the growing crowds.
