Misplaced (54 page)

“Maggie, really, you’
v
e done enough. Go home.”

“Like I said, Ms. Barrón, I
’
ll
w
ait here.”

Despite losing the argument,
V
ictoria smiled.

A
t this time
of
day, there
w
as
no
w
aiting line at the security
checkpoin
t
i
n
th
e
lobby
.
Afte
r
retrievin
g
he
r
bag
fro
m
the
security con
v
eyor, she stepped inside an ele
v
ator car.

Sh
e
fel
t
anxious
.
Whe
n
i
t
stoppe
d
an
d
a
n
unfamilia
r
man
steppe
d
on
,
he
r
ner
v
e
s
tightene
d
further
.
B
y
th
e
tim
e
h
e
got
o
ff
o
n
th
e
sam
e
f
loor
,
bu
t
turne
d
an
d
w
alke
d
briskl
y
i
n
the
opposite direction,
V
ictoria found her heart pounding.

Foregoin
g
th
e
usua
l
chit-chat
,
sh
e
lef
t
th
e
documents
.
She
considere
d
takin
g
th
e
stair
s
unti
l
th
e
though
t
o
f
a
n
empty
stair
w
ell drew her back to the ele
v
ators.

Thi
s
time
,
i
t
w
a
s
perfectl
y
crowded
;
peopl
e
w
er
e
going
home.
V
ictoria
w
as
relie
v
ed
to
listen
to
tidbits
of
con
v
ersation.
T
wo
floors
down,
a
uniformed
officer
got
on,
and
she
felt
her
whole body relax.

Outsid
e
th
e
courthouse
,
a
ma
n
wh
o
ha
d
bee
n
i
n
th
e
ele
v
ato
r
approached.
“Ms.
Barrón,
what
good
luck
to
run
into
you.
I’
v
e
bee
n
meanin
g
t
o
sto
p
b
y
you
r
office
.
I
ha
v
e
informatio
n
abou
t
a
client of yours that I think will be helpful.”

“I’m in bit of a hurry. Can
w
e talk tomorrow?”

Where
had
she
seen
him
before,
this
mustached
man
in
a
w
ell—
f
i
t
tin
g
gre
y
sui
t
wit
h
a
self-importan
t
look
?
H
e
grippe
d
th
e
handle of a shiny leather briefcase that looked like it had ne
v
er
been used.

“I
can
see
that
you
don’t
remember
me.
My
name
is
Arlan
Mieley.”

“Sorry, today’s been a rough day.”

“Don’t you
w
ant to know which client?”

“Who is it?”

“The
Egyptian
girl,”
he
disclosed
as
a
vise-like
grip
closed
o
n
he
r
forearm
.
“No
w
smil
e
an
d
tel
l
th
e
youn
g
lad
y
w
aiting
below that you
’
ll be just a minute more.”

Shocked,
V
ictoria
ga
v
e
a
w
eak
w
a
v
e,
which
Maggie
took
as
a
sign
that
e
v
erything
w
as
fine.
She
then
returned
her
attention
to the faces passing along the side
w
alk.

Th
e
ma
n
guide
d
V
ic
t
ori
a
i
n
slow
,
smal
l
s
t
ep
s
in
t
ende
d
t
o
make
them
look
as
though
they
w
ere
moving
when
they
w
ere
virtuall
y
standin
g
still
.
Hi
s
lid
s
flickered
.
“I’
v
e
com
e
fo
r
the
bracelet, and you
’
re going to get it for me.”

“Bracelet?”

Hi
s
smil
e
w
a
s
false
;
h
e
pu
t
i
t
o
n
onl
y
fo
r
show
.
“
Attitude
like
that
is
what
got
that
fat
secretary
of
yours
in
trouble.
Y
ou
kn
ow
—th
e
b
r
a
c
el
e
t
,
th
e
o
n
e
y
ou
r
fri
e
n
d
w
a
s
w
e
ar
i
n
g
a
t
th
e
museum.”

V
ictoria stiffened.

“
Ah,
so
you
remember
now?”
he
sneered,
exposing
a
se
v
ere
o
v
erbite. “Suddenly, Ms. Barrón, you don’t look so
w
ell.”

“It doesn’t belong to you, and it ne
v
er will.”

“That
b
racelet,”
he
enuncia
t
ed
slo
w
ly,
“is
the
last
piece
of
a
monumental
archaeological
find.
I’
v
e
w
aited
a
lifetime
for
it,
an
d
tha
t
make
s
i
t
mine
.
Besides
,
withou
t
th
e
othe
r
two
,
it
s
v
alue
is
seriously
diminished.
I
might
e
v
en
be
persuaded
to
pay
you
something for it.”

D
r
e
a
d
pri
c
kle
d
a
t
th
e
ba
s
e
o
f
he
r
n
ec
k
an
d
t
o
p
o
f
h
e
r
shoulders
.
Th
e
courthouse
,
th
e
peopl
e
chattin
g
a
s
they
w
alked
a
w
ay,
faded.
How
does
he
know
about
the
other
two?
she
wondered
.