Misplaced by SL Hulen Read Free Book Online

of orange sauce through the air and onto the lapel of her suit.
    Gracie muttered under her breath and handed Victoria a towelette.
    “Start with this.” Gracie handed a carton and white plastic fork to the girl, who wasted no time finding the source of the delicious citrus smell, though there was some initial hesitation in using the fork. She took a small, cautious bite, but was soon slurping and gulping, the noodles smacking loudly against her cheek.
    “You two have something in common—bad manners,” Gracie pronounced, shook her head, and left. The girl smiled but offered nothing more.
    She perched on the sofa with the books for the entire afternoon, although her eyes didn’t rest on any one page for too long. She seemed to prefer the view of the room’s only empty corner, staring into it so unflinchingly that Victoria was uncomfortable. The least she could do would be to move every hour or so, she thought. The young woman sat with her knees at perfect ninety degree angles, feet primly side by side, fingers laced neatly in her lap.
    “No help here,” Victoria proclaimed, looking up briefly from the stream of replies on her computer. “I’ve called in all my favors. Not a single government agency has reported you missing. No embassies, either—at least, not yet.” The words of the coyote rang truer by the minute. “I’m not the one who got you into this jam; I’m the one trying to help. Are you understanding anything I’m saying?”
    More than once she thought the girl was on the brink of reaching out, but she would only shake her head, sigh heavily, and go back to staring into her lap.
    Gracie arrived to clear away the ravaged cartons. “Any progress?” she asked, regarding the stranger on the sofa. “I didn’t think so.” Greasy boxes in hand, she hesitated for a moment, allowing her vaporous black garments to catch up to her generous curves. “There’s no need to tell you that you should drive straight to the police station and drop her off, is there? You can’t help her, but you’ve never listened to me yet. Mark my words; this stubbornness of yours will get you in the end.”
    “On Monday. If nothing changes, I’ll call the authorities on Monday. Promise.”
    Gracie closed the door harder than usual.
    Victoria sank back into her desk chair and pulled the clip from her hair. “You’re going to have to give me something. Anything. I’ve got feelers out, looking for someone who might be looking for you, but I haven’t put them in the right places, have I? You’re certainly not the typical immigrant, but you’re intentionally not helping. Gracie’s right; I can’t do anything more for you.”
    In her frustration, Victoria gathered the books from the carpet and placed them back on the shelf. She rearranged the order of several of them before stuffing a pile of untouched case files back into her briefcase and retrieving an afternoon’s worth of ignored messages. Lastly, she grabbed her handbag from the bottom desk drawer. To her surprise, when she sat up, the girl stood directly across the desk from her.
    “You must help me,” she pleaded. Lifting her dress, she loosened a wide band wrapped in dirty cloth from around her thigh. With the expression of a blackjack dealer, she removed the item and set it on the desk with a solid “thunk.”
    “All right, I’m listening,” Victoria insisted in a calming voice, though her heart was racing. “What have you got there?”
    She unwrapped the ragged strip of fabric from the item. What remained was a crude bangle of clay, adorned with tiny rocks and pieces of dried grass. As the girl pushed it toward her, it left a trail of dirt. Victoria ran her fingers lightly over the hard, uneven lumps. “A souvenir from your adventure in the desert?”
    The girl did not reply, but scooped it up along with a cup of unfinished coffee. She took a few steps back and poured the liquid over the object in her hand. Chunks of mud and dirt splattered onto the