Page 110 of Loss Aversion

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Mia blinked, her cheek along with her entire right side of her body lay on the cool and damp cement floor. Wiggling her feet first and then her legs, she determined all was well and intact and slowly lifted up on one elbow.

The room was pitch dark and smelled…woody. Chopped wood. And then she recalled her dad throwing split logs through the small window in the fall, to be prepared for warm fires during the long winter months in Massachusetts. He did it for her mom and Pearl. They both loved the smell of a fireplace in the wintertime.

Mia could remember the four of them: Mom, Pearl, Angus, and Marshall sitting in front of the fire and sipping wine, Angus lager, while she colored on the nearby coffee table.

Those were good times.

And then Pearl became confused.

Her grandmotherly friend had bouts of indecision and forgetfulness that became progressively worse. It wasn’t uncommon to find her wandering aimlessly in the house and in a befuddled state. Her mom had explained everyone needed to be patient with Pearl. Until they became concerned with her safety at night, considering she lived alone. She overheard a conversation between her mom and dad. Something about her uncle trying to coax Pearl into his car late at night. A few days later, they moved her to a special home where she was given twenty-four-seven care.

Mia could remember how hard it had been on her dad. She also knew theirs was an odd family, but no worse or better than some of her friends’ families. That was for sure.

And then Marshall became sick and then died.

As a child, she had felt so powerless.

Well, not now. Not this time.

With renewed resolve, Mia braced one hand on the wall and worked her way to standing. Figuring if she moved along the perimeter of the room, she’d eventually find a light switch.

She took a few steps, using the intermittent mortar moving across her fingers as a guidepost and worked her way several yards to her left.

Without warning, a hand was over her mouth and then an arm gripped her tight around the waist. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t break free.

Lifting her foot and heel, she slammed it onto her assailant’s foot, causing him to make a grunting sound but not loosening his hold.

In her ear, she heard him whisper, “Don’t move or say a word.”

She froze. Her ears finding the voice familiar. And then realization hit.

“Dad?” she asked, her voice muffled from beneath his palm.

The hand lowered and then the voice, struggling the same visual impairment, responded with, “Mia?”

* * *

At first,Lucas thought the only individual small enough to slide through the small window opening might have been Birdie. Not in a million years was he expecting it to be his daughter.

He had to keep his voice down, as the jackpot of a security team had a couple uniforms standing guard.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered, glancing toward the door. There wasn’t any movement or sound coming from the other side, so either the guard moved elsewhere or was sleeping.

“I’ve been looking for you and Mom.”

Oh, God. This was not good.

“You need to go.” He looked up at the window, faintly illuminated by a remote outside light, she’d shimmied through and heard voices on the other side. Okay, maybe her leaving now wasn’t a good idea.

Mia asked, “Why are you in here? Are you hiding from someone?”

“More like being detained.”

“You’ve been locked in here?”

“Keep your voice down. Is there any chance you’re wearing the necklace Marshall gave you?”

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