Free The Flight of the Silvers by Daniel Price

week of July . . .
    “No . . .”
    . . . in a town ten miles north of the Mexican border.
    “No!”
    And then something terrible happened. The house, the roof, the heavens themselves, came down on top of them. In a span of a scream, everything Mia knew disappeared in a sea of white. Gone.
    “NANA!”
    With a final shove, Mia fell back against the earth. The plank pierced the ground and toppled over. Mia caught a soft new glow across the ground. She looked up.
    Sunlight glimmered down through a thin slit in the ceiling. Little blades of grass flapped around the edges. Beyond that, a hint of blue sky and clouds.
    As she breathed in the air of a whole new world, Mia Farisi curled into a ball and cried.
    —
    She had no idea how long she stayed there in the dirt. Minutes. Hours. A lifetime. At some point in her stupor, she caught a quick shadow above her. A fat black nose traveled up and down the slit, sniffing excitedly. Yellow paws tore at the hole. Soon the retriever was yanked away. Now Mia looked up into the wide blue eyes of its owner.
    “Sweet Jesus . . .”
    After twelve minutes of digging, the hole was wide enough to lower a stepladder. Mia emerged into the side yard of a two-story home in some posh but foreign suburb. She’d been buried so close to the house that a few lateral scrapes would have revealed the foundation.
    Her rescuer, a thin and elderly man in a faded maroon sweat suit, stared at Mia like she’d fallen from space. He scratched his cheek in bewilderment.
    “This is crazy. I’m thinking I should call someone but . . . Christ, it’s my yard. What will they think?”
    Mia didn’t reply. Her tears had made streaks of clean on an otherwise dirt-caked face, but now her gaze was dry and distant.
    “I can’t even fathom what you’ve been through, girl. And I want to help you. But before I call the police, I need to know that you can talk. You have to tell them I didn’t do this to you.”
    The retriever ran barking to the front lawn and returned moments later with a stout young woman in a pea-green uniform. She consulted a small device in her hand, then looked to Mia.
    The old man waved his palms. “I found her like this! I didn’t do this!”
    “Ease it, gramper. You’re not in any trouble.”
    The woman kneeled down by Mia, brushing the dirty brown hair from her face. She studied the bracelet on Mia’s wrist.
    “You poor thing. You must’ve been through hell and back. What’s your name, kitten?”
    She continued to stare ahead, speaking in a tiny doll’s voice. “Mia.”
    “Mia, my name’s Erin Salgado. I work for Salgado Security. We’ve been hired to find you and bring you to safety. You’re going to be okay.”
    The old man furrowed his brow. “You were hired to find her but you didn’t know her name?”
    Erin shot him a frosty glare. “If you’re doubting, call the poes. I fig they’ll have more questions for you than for me.”
    “Look, hey, I was just asking.”
    Erin squeezed Mia’s hand. “Listen, sweetie, I need you to trust me. My clients—”
    “Bobby.”
    “What?”
    Mia finally looked at Erin, her lush lips trembling with anguish.
    “My brother’s name is Robert J. Farisi. He’s with the Fourth Brigade Combat Team in Afghanistan. I know his e-mail address. I need to write him.”
    “Mia . . .”
    “He needs to know I’m alive.”
    As Mia fell into soft new tears, Erin pulled her into her thick arms and held her. This poor thing. This poor lost child.
    —
    Hand in hand, Erin led Mia to a long green van that waited at the curb. A burly young man leaned against the passenger door. From his stout face, wide nose, and scattered brown freckles, Mia figured he was more than Erin’s associate. They were siblings, possibly twins.
    The Salgado brother gawked at Mia’s wretched state. “Jesus. Where are these people coming from?”
    Erin narrowed her eyes at him. “Start the engine. And get me the soapsheets.”
    She opened the rear doors and