And wasn’t that the way? No matter what, He was the one who made a way. All Eliana had to do was trust that He had written her path for her—and walk in it.
One step at a time.
Chapter Nineteen
Eliana inserted her card into the punch slot and clocked in, alone in the hallway behind the employee entrance to the Shrine. The empty hall descended into an odd kind of silence, and she took a second to think about what was off.
Carolena wasn’t rushing by her, late for a meeting. That was the most benign reason she could think of.
The rest had far too much to do with murder, scary religious groups, and everything else that had happened recently.
She pulled out her phone and flipped it open, typing out a text to Carlos.
No protesters outside today. Everything seems quiet.
She hit Send and tucked the phone in the slot on the front strap of her tiny backpack purse. Little slices of normalcy in the middle of a whole lot of serious chaos. Normalcy and new—checking in with him. Being friends.
But it didn’t seem right that things were peaceful. This was more like a wave receding from the shore, pulling all the way back before crashing forward again.
She was still reeling from the last wave, and even two days off hadn’t really helped. Not when she had no unanswered questions. Carlos had gone to the police station for a meeting about the canisters they suspected had been at least partially filled with Elysium, the drug mixed with other substances.
Things could have been a whole lot worse.
The news media had been repeating that phrase over and over, instructing victims to call a 1-800 number to register themselves to receive compensation. Meanwhile, Eliana’s dreams had morphed into running from a lawyer, as if that made any sense.
She headed for Sylvia’s office while trying not to run into anyone or get tasked with rounds in one of the wings before she was ready to start her shift. That was why she’d come in a little early—so she could talk to Sylvia, find her knife, andthenTony could pull her into the briefing.
Right now, she wasn’t sure she even wanted to talk to him, but with him being her supervisor, she couldn’t really avoid it.
Knowing she could get into the vault in her own right set them on a completely new footing. He didn’t have access while she was restricted from entering the vault. They were on more even scales at this point, but still, if he wanted to fire her, he could. She wasn’t sure how to play this new balance of power. He’d attacked her, and he needed her to keep Shrine secrets, so she had some leverage. Too bad she was terrible at that kind of politicking. That was part of the reason she hadn’t figured out a plan yet.
Eliana knocked on Sylvia’s door. She wanted the director to tell her where everything stood with the thieves and the vault. All of it.
She looked up at the camera.
It didn’t turn to her.
Eliana tried the handle, and it wasn’t locked, so she ducked her head in. Sylvia’s office was empty. No papers out on her desk. It looked more like it had been thoroughly tidied before the occupant went away for a few days.
Where was Director Caughton?
Fine. Eliana would have to go down in the elevator and get her knife.
Her radio crackled on her belt. “Adams, come back.”
She still wasn’t used to responding to a new name, even after months—and probably especially after this week. She lifted the handset and squeezed the button on the side. “Go ahead for Adams.” As she talked, she headed back to the same stairs she’d come up. The window at the end of the hall let sunlight in that reflected off the waxed floor, making her want to go stand over there so she could feel the warmth on her face for a moment.
“Couple of cops down here to talk to you. They’re at the front desk.”
“Any idea where the director is?” Eliana asked.
The respondent—which she thought might be Miller but wasn’t sure—came back with, “Dealing with an absent scientist. What do you want me to tell these detectives?”
“I’ll be right there.” She stowed her radio on her belt and went down to the ground floor, pushing open the heavy door to the public side of the building, just off the lobby. Walking through it just reminded her of people fighting each other and seeing that stroller left unattended by two women who thought slapping each other was more important than the safety of a child.
But anyone under the influence of what had been in those canisters hadn’t been in control of their actions. She’d seen it with her own eyes when Carlos had tried to kill that officer in her neighbors’ apartment. With no idea why she hadn’t been affected, she had more questions than answers.
About so many things.
