Misplaced (130 page)

“
T
ake off
your shoes,” she said.

Mieley looked mortified.

“No
w
tos
s
the
m
o
v
er.
”
Sh
e
pointe
d
th
e
pisto
l
a
t
him
,
half
expectin
g
a
n
argument
.
Non
e
came
.
A
pai
r
o
f
oxford
s
hi
t
the
ground with an angry thud.

“
Y
ou
’
re going to pay for this.”

“Socks, too.”

H
e
thre
w
the
m
a
t
he
r
head
,
bu
t
sh
e
ducked
.
“No
w
your
trousers.”

Arla
n
Miele
y
gulped
.
V
ictori
a
imagine
d
h
e
woul
d
ha
v
e
preferre
d
t
o
ha
v
e
bee
n
shot
.
“Scre
w
you,
”
h
e
spa
t
through
clenched teeth.

“
Aren’
t
yo
u
th
e
on
e
wh
o
tol
d
m
e
tha
t
smugglin
g
run
s
in
m
y
blood
?
Y
o
u
shoul
d
b
e
worryin
g
abou
t
whethe
r
murder
doe
s
a
s
w
ell
.
No
w
gi
v
e
m
e
you
r
pants.
”
Sh
e
pulle
d
bac
k
th
e
hamme
r
an
d
aime
d
a
t
hi
s
forehead
.
Sh
e
w
a
s
suddenl
y
gla
d
tha
t
she
’
d
spen
t
tim
e
a
t
th
e
shootin
g
range—no
t
enoug
h
t
o
make
her
really
good,
but
enough
to
be
convincing.
Recalling
that
it
had
been
Elias
who
had
insisted
on
it,
an
icy
needle
pierced
her
heart.
“
Y
ou
need
to
able
to
protect
yourself,
hija
,”
he
’
d
w
arned.
Whe
n
he
r
uncl
e
use
d
tha
t
tone—
a
combinatio
n
o
f
authorit
y
and
adoration—she could ne
v
er argue.

Adjustin
g
he
r
aim
,
sh
e
pushe
d
th
e
pai
n
ou
t
o
f
he
r
head
an
d
pulle
d
th
e
trigger
.
T
w
o
inche
s
abo
v
e
hi
s
head
,
th
e
tree
splintered.

“
Y
ou
crazy
bitch!”
It
w
as
clear
as
he
flopped
around
on
the
ground,
trying
to
remo
v
e
his
trousers,
cursing
and
sputtering
under his breath, that he had not thought she would fire.

V
ictori
a
lo
w
ere
d
th
e
pisto
l
slightly
.
“Th
e
ans
w
e
r
t
o
the
questio
n
you
’
r
e
askin
g
yoursel
f
i
s
‘
Y
es
, I
misse
d
yo
u
on
purpose.’ Now hand o
v
er your pants.”

No
w
w
earin
g
onl
y
dar
k
boxer
s
an
d
a
long-slee
v
e
d
grey
t-shirt
,
Miele
y
follo
w
e
d
he
r
e
v
er
y
mo
v
e
a
s
sh
e
picke
d
u
p
his
clothing and shoes, his e
y
es narrow slits of hatred.

A
momen
t
ago
,
Miele
y
ha
d
possesse
d
th
e
uppe
r
hand
and
there
had
been
no
doubt
of
his
intentions,
of
the
pleasure
h
e
woul
d
ha
ve
take
n
degradin
g
an
d
humiliatin
g
her
.
A
n
involuntar
y
shudde
r
ra
n
u
p
V
ictoria’
s
spine
,
an
d
thoug
h
she
acted
as
if
nothing
had
happened,
she
could
not
bring
herself
t
o
loo
k
a
t
him
.
Underneat
h
th
e
tree
,
Miele
y
laughe
d
softly
,
making
V
ictoria
wonder
whether
he
understood,
e
v
en
agreed
with
her
revulsion,
or
if
he
laughed
from
a
sense
of
disbelief.
She took se
v
eral steps back
w
ards.

The
next
thing
she
knew,
she
w
as
racing
to
w
ards
the
edge
of
the
park.
A
t
the
first
open
container
she
spotted,
which
w
as
a
cardboar
d
recyclin
g
bin
,
sh
e
deposite
d
a
shoe
.
Sh
e
sho
v
ed
its
mate
into
the
storm
se
w
er,
listening
with
great
satisfaction
t
o
th
e
splas
h
i
t
made
.
Th
e
blindin
g
fea
r
she
’
d
experienced
moment
s
ag
o
ga
v
e
w
a
y
t
o
exhilaration
.
Pisto
l
i
n
hand
,
she
sprinte
d
dow
n
empt
y
streets
.
A
dumpster
,
o
v
erflowin
g
and
reekin
g
o
f
rottin
g
food
,
provide
d
th
e
perfec
t
repository
.
V
ictoria
wipe
d
i
t
dow
n
carefull
y
wit
h
Mieley’
s
pant
s
befor
e
throwin
g
both the pistol and trousers in.