Misplaced (85 page)

Elia
s
w
atche
d
hi
m
intently
,
judgin
g
whethe
r
hi
s
word
s
w
ere
genuine.
He
put
on
a
pleasant
face
as
he
came
around
the
desk.
Too
late,
Mieley
realized
it
w
as
to
march
him
out
of
his
home
at
gunpoint.
He
hung
his
head
and
stared
at
his
shoes.
He
had
no
t
though
t
hi
s
fantasti
c
drea
m
woul
d
en
d
lik
e
this
,
an
d
that
compelle
d
hi
m
t
o
rus
h
Elia
s
again
,
thi
s
tim
e
wit
h
e
v
erythin
g
he
had.
Mieley
crashed
side
w
ays
into
him
and
sent
him
into
the
bookcase.
Together
they
fell
to
the
floor,
glass
shattering,
books
rainin
g
dow
n
o
n
t
hem
.
Elia
s
stru
g
gle
d
despera
t
el
y
t
o
ge
t
his
feet
under
him.
Mieley
grabbed
a
chunk
of
turquoise,
as
large
as
a
grapefruit,
from
the
top
shelf
and
brought
it
down
with
an
appalling thud.

It
w
as quiet again.

He
had
intended
none
of
this,
but
now
it
w
as
done.
Mieley
w
atched
blood
pour
from
a
mortal
gash
in
E
lia
s
’s
forehead.
His
righ
t
han
d
twitched
.
T
urnin
g
hi
s
attentio
n
t
o
th
e
cel
l
phon
e
that
had
skimmed
across
the
tiles
and
come
to
rest
under
the
desk,
Mieley
grabbed
it.
Then
he
picked
up
the
pistol,
took
one
last
look at Elias, and made his geta
w
ay.

Back
in
his
hotel
room,
Mieley
rinsed
the
clamminess
from
his
body,
and
with
it
any
qualms
about
what
Elias
had
forced
him
to
do.
He
dried
off
and
opened
a
can
of
soda
and
a
soggy
sandwich
.
T
akin
g
mindles
s
bites
,
h
e
considere
d
hi
s
options
.
Nothing
had
been
gained.
Worse,
un
w
elcome
attention
would
no
w
b
e
draw
n
t
o
th
e
situation
.
Wha
t
i
f
someon
e
mad
e
a
connection bet
w
een Max and Elias?

He
stared
at
the
cell
phone
for
a
long
time.
He
thought
to
call
V
ictoria
and
offer
some
sort
of
an
exchange—her
belo
v
ed
aun
t
f
o
r
th
e
gir
l
wit
h
th
e
bra
c
elet
,
perhap
s
.
O
f
co
ur
s
e
that
meant
he
would
ha
v
e
to
secure
custody
of
Marta
and
he
w
as
no
t
prepare
d
t
o
han
g
aroun
d
lon
g
enoug
h
fo
r
that
.
I
t
might
b
e
hour
s
befor
e
Mart
a
Barró
n
returne
d
hom
e
an
d
foun
d
her
husband’s body. Scrolling through the
phone’s
directory until he came to the letter
V
, he pushed the button
and inhaled deeply.

“Hello.”
Miele
y
kne
w
instantl
y
tha
t
th
e
wheezing
,
matronl
y
voic
e
did not belong to Elias’s niece.

“Good e
v
ening. I’m trying to reach my niece.”

“And you are?”
Mieley
deepened
his
voice
and
ans
w
ered,
“
Ah,
forgi
v
e
my
rudeness; I am her uncle.
W
ith whom do I ha
v
e the pleasure of
speaking?”

“An old friend.”

“On
e
I
ca
n
onl
y
hop
e
sh
e
confide
s
in
.
He
r
aun
t
an
d
I
are
worried
.
Sh
e
hasn’
t
bee
n
t
o
he
r
offic
e
i
n
o
v
e
r
a
w
eek
.
It’
s
so
unlike her.”

“She needs some space.”

“Of course,” he ans
w
ered cordially. “I appreciate—”

“I
can’t
hear
you
v
ery
w
ell;
the
phone
seems
to
be
beeping.
Don’t you hear it?” the voice asked, aggra
v
ated.

“Nothin
g
a
t
thi
s
end
;
perhap
s
i
t
need
s
charging
.
A
s
I
w
a
s
saying,
I
appreciate
your
frankness.
Clearly
my
niece
and
her
frien
d
ar
e
i
n
goo
d
company
.
Madr
e
mio
,
”
Miele
y
exclaimed,
using one of Elias’s
favorite sayings, “you ne
v
er stop worrying
about your children, no matter
how old they are.”

“Y
ou’
v
e
broke
n
he
r
heart
,
yo
u
know,
”
th
e
voic
e
said
bet
w
een strained breaths.

“
A
terribl
e
misunderstandin
g
I
inten
d
t
o
clea
r
up
.
Tha
t
is
wh
y
I’
m
s
o
anxiou
s
t
o
se
e
her
.
P
erhap
s
sh
e
doesn’
t
w
an
t
t
o
ha
v
e
anythin
g
t
o
d
o
wit
h
m
e
righ
t
now
;
she’
s
hurt
.
Bu
t
i
f
I
could
si
t
dow
n
wit
h
he
r
fo
r
a
fe
w
minutes
,
explai
n
m
y
sid
e
o
f
the
story—”