Misplaced (90 page)

Chapte
r
Thirty-five
Elias

Elia
s
wok
e
t
o
th
e
sound
s
o
f
softl
y
beepin
g
equipment
that whispered, “
Y
ou are still among the living.” Marta
w
as
crying
as
she
pressed
his
hand
to
her
w
et
face.
“Mi vida,”
she crooned.
“Gracias a Dios.”

Someon
e
leane
d
o
v
e
r
th
e
bed
,
blottin
g
ou
t
th
e
light
,
and
ther
e
w
a
s
anothe
r
voice
,
deepe
r
an
d
unknown
,
asking
,
“Mr.
Barrón, can you hear me?”

Elias nodded, too thirsty to speak.

“Who did this to you?
W
as it someone you know?”

He hesitated, and then shook his heavily bandaged head.

“Can’
t
yo
u
se
e
he’
s
i
n
n
o
conditio
n
t
o
speak?
”
Marta
scolde
d
a
s
sh
e
pu
t
a
spoo
n
o
f
chipped ice
t
o
hi
s
lips.
P
ain
shot
through
his
head,
threatening
to
send
him
back
into
darkness.

“Mr. Barrón, do you know the person who attacked
you?”

He closed his e
y
es and shook his head again.

“
W
as it a burglary?”

V
ery slo
w
ly he uttered,
“
Y
es.”

“Did they take anything?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you gi
v
e me a description of the perpetrator?”

W
earily
,
h
e
touche
d
hi
s
han
d
t
o
hi
s
temple
.
“Can’
t
remem
b
er,
”
h
e
ans
w
ere
d
i
n
a
voic
e
h
e
b
arel
y
reco
g
nize
d
as
his
own.
His
swollen
tongue
filled
his
mouth,
making
the
few
words he managed to spit out thick and clumsy.

“De
t
ec
t
i
v
e
,
I
insis
t
t
ha
t
y
o
u
le
t
m
y
hus
b
an
d
res
t
,
”
Elias
heard
his
wife
say.
A
moment
later,
footsteps
heavier
than
hers
left the room.

He
tried
to
recall
how
he
came
to
be
here.
His
hands
ached,
an
d
hi
s
arm
s
fel
t
useles
s
an
d
sore
.
Slo
w
ly
,
th
e
pai
n
brought
with it another memory—the sound of breaking glass
V
ictoria.

Marta pra
y
ed quietly.

Th
e
e
v
ent
s
o
f
th
e
las
t
day
s
w
er
e
becomin
g
cleare
r
now.

Afraid
of
the
news
that
w
aited
if
he
dared
open
his
e
y
es,
Elias
pulle
d
i
n
hu
g
e
g
ulp
s
o
f
ai
r
t
o
k
ee
p
fro
m
su
f
foca
t
in
g
o
n
hi
s
g
uil
t.

“It’
s
al
l
righ
t
now,
”
Mart
a
console
d
him
,
strokin
g
hi
s
hands.
“Don’t try to stay a
w
ake, my lo
v
e. I’m right here.”

The urge to slip back into unconsciousness s
w
ept o
v
er him,
but a single thought pre
v
ented it.

I ha
v
e turned the devil loose on my own child.

Th
e
nex
t
morning
,
Elia
s
pushe
d
a
w
a
y
th
e
plasti
c
cup
containing
pain
medication
handed
to
him
by
a
pretty
brunette
nurse.
A
brutal
pain
throbbed
from
the
crack
in
his
skull
and
stopped
in
his
gut
to
nauseate
him
before
it
surged
to
the
tips
of his toes. He felt lightheaded.

“Ha
v
e
you
heard
from
V
ictoria?”
he
asked
his
wife.
Marta
wor
e
th
e
sam
e
dark-blu
e
patterne
d
blous
e
sh
e
ha
d
been
w
earing when she
’
d left for church the day before.

“I’
v
e
bee
n
tryin
g
t
o
reac
h
he
r
fo
r
days
,
bu
t
nothing
.
Y
ou
kno
w
ho
w
sh
e
i
s
whe
n
she’
s
i
n
th
e
middl
e
o
f
a
trial
.
Gracie
called the other day to tell us not to worry.”

Elias stared at the
w
all. “
Y
ou didn’t talk to her, then?”

“Th
e
las
t
tim
e
w
e
spoke
,
sh
e
w
a
s
o
n
he
r
w
a
y
t
o
se
e
you.
I
didn’t
w
ant
to
trouble
you,
but
something’s
wrong;
I
feel
it.
This is not like her, Elias.”

He
desperately
w
anted
to
tell
her,
to
lay
his
lies
out
on
the
gra
y
lin
o
leu
m
f
lo
o
r
an
d
be
g
f
o
rgi
v
ene
s
s
a
t
he
r
feet
.
But what
i
f she
invol
v
ed
the
authorities?
Elias
struggled
to
sit,
and
a tidal
w
a
v
e of nausea threatened to o
v
ertake him. He took deep breaths and forced himself not to think of the pain.

“I
insist
on
recuperating
at
home,”
he
told
the
young
doctor
wh
o
cam
e
i
n
later
,
sittin
g
u
p
an
d
offerin
g
a
w
ea
k
smile
.
“
Y
ou’
v
e
me
t
m
y
wife
.
Res
t
assure
d
whe
n
I
t
el
l
y
o
u
she
’
l
l
mak
e
sur
e
I
take it easy.”