Misplaced (62 page)

There
w
as no response.

“
W
e
nee
d
t
o
ge
t
ou
t
o
f
here,
”
V
ictori
a
urged
,
tuggin
g
at
Khara’
s
han
d
unti
l
sh
e
e
v
entuall
y
ga
v
e
in
.
The
y
dresse
d
quickly
and stumbled to the car.

Ami
d
shriekin
g
tire
s
an
d
cloud
s
o
f
dust
,
the
y
spe
d
a
w
ay,
leaving
the
dunes
far
behind.
When
what
w
as
left
of
her
mind
tol
d
he
r
the
y
w
er
e
a
saf
e
distanc
e
a
w
ay
,
V
ictori
a
pulle
d
onto
the shoulder.

“What the hell
w
as that?”

Khara leaned back, a sad smile on her face. “I am not alone.
That
w
as
Nandor.
His
presence
has
gi
v
en
me
a
great
sense
of
comfort.”

“Comfort
?
Y
ou’
v
e
go
t
t
o
b
e
joking!
”
Sh
e
pause
d
an
d
then
said, “
W
ait a minute. I thought you told me he
w
as dead.”

“I
witnesse
d
i
t
m
yself
,
bu
t
fathe
r
al
w
ay
s
tol
d
m
e
th
e
spiri
t
of
a
good
man
li
v
es
fore
v
er.
Nandor
still
w
atches
o
v
er
me—o
v
er
us,” she added.

“That’s all
w
e need.”

“I
t
w
a
s
righ
t
o
f
u
s
t
o
sto
p
here
.
Earlie
r
today
,
whe
n
you
w
ere standing so close to the ri
v
er,
w
ell, you frightened me.”

V
ictoria
swung
the
car
back
onto
the
high
w
ay.
“So,
tell
me,
what did Nandor say?” she inquired sarcastically.

Khara’
s
e
y
e
s
flashed
.
“
Y
o
u
ridicul
e
wha
t
yo
u
d
o
not
understand.”

“But
his
message—I
heard
it
too.
He
said,
‘What
you
seek
ca
n
onl
y
b
e
foun
d
b
y
takin
g
th
e
journe
y
o
f
death.
’
Y
o
u
don’t
really belie
v
e that, do you?”

“W
ithout
question,”
Khara
affirmed.
“
And
you
would,
too,
if you had known him.”

W
ith
the
small
o
v
erhead
light
shining
on
Bea’s
map,
Khara
directe
d
the
m
ont
o
High
w
a
y
70
.
Drivin
g
east
,
the
y
bega
n
to
climb
.
W
ithi
n
a
quarte
r
hour
,
th
e
hard
y
shrub
s
an
d
cactu
s
began
to
be
replaced
by
creosote
bushes
and
mesquite
trees.
Clumps
o
f
spruc
e
sho
w
e
d
themsel
v
e
s
alon
g
th
e
road
.
E
v
entuall
y
the
headlight
s
foun
d
a
smal
l
hillto
p
town
,
an
d
the
y
dro
v
e
pas
t
a
handfu
l
o
f
dar
k
A-fram
e
cabins
.
V
ictori
a
turne
d
th
e
radi
o
o
n
an
d
foun
d
th
e
onl
y
station
,
o
n
whic
h
a
wounde
d
mal
e
voic
e
sang of tragic lo
v
e and dishonesty.

“
L
o
o
k
h
o
w
tall
they
are,”
Khara
m
ar
v
ele
d
,
r
o
lling
do
wn
the
window
to
look
at
the
trees.
“The
air
smells
wonderful.
What
is it?”

“Pine,”
V
ictoria
ans
w
ered,
looking
for
an
address,
a
plaque,
o
r
anythin
g
tha
t
woul
d
tel
l
he
r
the
y
w
er
e
close
.
Fearin
g
she
ha
d
take
n
th
e
wron
g
turn
,
sh
e
w
a
s
abou
t
t
o
tur
n
th
e
ca
r
around
when,
far
in
front
of
the
headlights
and
shrouded
in
grey
mist
an
d
shadows
,
the
y
sa
w
th
e
staggere
d
rooflin
e
o
f
th
e
lodge
belonging to Bea’s aunt, Celeste Barton-Szabó.

Chapte
r
Twenty-seven
Vic
t
oria

It
w
as after two o’clock in the morning. They crept up the
stair
s
an
d
tiptoe
d
alon
g
th
e
woode
n
slat
s
o
f
th
e
porc
h
t
o
the
black
front
door,
tripping
a
sensor
that
lit
floodlights
at
either
en
d
o
f
th
e
porch
.
Shakin
g
i
n
th
e
bitin
g
cold
,
V
ictori
a
considered
making a run for the car.

Th
e
doo
r
knocker
,
a
n
ugl
y
bronz
e
goa
t
wit
h
starin
g
e
y
es,
greeted them as they stood like timid rabbits.

“Us
e
you
r
Kharissima,
”
V
ictori
a
ordered
,
pushin
g
Khara
i
n
fron
t
o
f
th
e
door
.
“I
f I
d
o
it
,
w
e
’
l
l
probabl
y
b
e
arreste
d
for
trespassing.”

“A
t least I’m not a co
w
ard.”

“And I’m not stupid. Now ring the bell.”

Khar
a
knocke
d
softl
y
instead
.
Puttin
g
he
r
ea
r
t
o
th
e
door,
sh
e
listene
d
fo
r
a
fe
w
seconds
,
an
d
the
n
whispered
,
“
Y
ou
r
niece
Bea has sent us.”

Inside
,
the
y
hear
d
a
slow
,
draggin
g
soun
d
accompanied
by
ferocious
barking.
A
voice
croaked,
“Quiet,
Shamrock.
Get
i
n
you
r
room
.
G
o
on
,
girl.
”
Th
e
doo
r
opene
d
a
quarte
r
o
f
the
w
ay,
re
v
ealing
a
small
bent
figure.
“Bea
called
to
let
me
know
you
w
ere
coming,”
she
said
in
a
labored
voice.
“Friend
of
hers
o
r
not
,
wha
t
ar
e
yo
u
tw
o
doin
g
ou
t
her
e
i
n
th
e
middl
e
o
f
the
night? For goodness sake, come inside!”

Th
e
insid
e
w
a
s
dar
k
excep
t
fo
r
som
e
failin
g
flame
s
i
n
the
cente
r
o
f
a
fireplac
e
almos
t
bi
g
enoug
h
t
o
stan
d
in
.
Trophy
head
s
cas
t
siniste
r
shadow
s
acros
s
th
e
planke
d
w
all
.
Th
e
fe
w
space
s
no
t
devote
d
t
o
wil
d
gam
e
w
er
e
fille
d
wit
h
pipe
s
and
antique firearms.

“Neither of you is dressed for a night in the mountains. But
then
again,”
she
put
her
hand
to
her
forehead
and,
looking
at
V
ictoria,
continued,
“you
didn’t
come
here
for
the
fresh
air,
did
you?”

Be
a
ha
d
forgotte
n
t
o
mentio
n
tha
t
he
r
aun
t
suffere
d
from
a
myria
d
o
f
disturbin
g
ailment
s
whic
h
lef
t
he
r
hunche
d
and
swollen, her e
v
ery step a testament to the force of will.

Sh
e
aske
d
merrily
,
“
Y
o
u
didn’t
,
b
y
chance
,
pas
s
a
red
Ferrari? Emma, that harlot, is out looking for lo
v
e again.”

“No,”
V
ictoria ans
w
ered, “I would ha
v
e remembered.”

“I
hop
e
I
don’
t
ha
v
e
t
o
mak
e
anothe
r
tri
p
t
o
th
e
police
station.
”
Celest
e
shoo
k
he
r
head
.
“It’
s
a
goo
d
thin
g
tha
t
little
beast’s been fixed.”

Medicine
s
stoo
d
i
n
nea
t
row
s
o
n
to
p
o
f
library-st
y
le
bookshel
v
e
s
o
n
th
e
fa
r
w
all
.
P
erhaps
,
V
ictori
a
thought
,
her
strange comments
ha
v
e something to do with the astounding number
of small bottles.

Th
e
gir
l
accustome
d
t
o
havin
g
other
s
w
ai
t
o
n
he
r
mo
v
ed
quickl
y
t
o
th
e
woman’
s
side
,
guidin
g
he
r
t
o
th
e
o
v
erstuffed
chai
r
nea
r
th
e
fire
.
W
alking-stic
k
i
n
hand
,
Celest
e
w
a
v
e
d
i
t
at
the chair.

“Of
f
o
f
m
y
chair
,
Genera
l
Lee,
”
sh
e
commande
d
what
looke
d
lik
e
a
tattere
d
pillow
,
bu
t
w
a
s
a
mang
y
orang
e
cat.
Celest
e
steadie
d
hersel
f
agains
t
Khara
,
wheezin
g
a
s
though
e
v
er
y
breat
h
woul
d
b
e
he
r
last
.
Th
e
ca
t
complaine
d
bitterly
,
but
jumped to the floor.