For her part, the girl answered the questions Mona asked her quietly but willingly, all the while staring up at Rickards, who moved to the bedroom after finishing with the closet.

After briefly disappearing from view, he returned to the doorway.  “I said get your things!”

“Where are we going?” Angela asked.

“Somewhere.  Anywhere but here.”

Angela turned to Townsend, then Mona, who was still on her knee, gently touching the girl’s tiny shoulder. After another moment, she stood. “Her name is Eshe.”

Again, Rickards returned to the bedroom’s doorway.  “And?”

“And what?”

“What else?”

“She’s as confused as we are.  And afraid.”

Angela stepped forward, bending down to Eshe’s level and smiling softly.  “Are you okay, Eshe?”

The girl looked at her without answering, instead staring through the bedroom door to watch Rickards.

Slowly the young girl eased away from Mona and toward the door until she could see Rickards rapidly packing.  Without saying a word, she crept into the room and moved to the corner, where she waited quietly.

Both women peered in through the white doorway and watched her standing idly in the corner watching Rickards like a hawk.

He finally noticed and looked at the child, then the women.  “What is she doing?”

The women shook their heads.

Angela moved closer to examine several minor bloody scrapes on the girl’s legs and arms.  “Leonard, can you bring me a damp cloth?”

“Absolutely.”

“It was then that Angela noticed something and carefully and gingerly raised Eshe’s right arm to study it.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

She looked at Rickards as he zipped his suitcase closed.  “You’re not going to believe this.”

“Too late,” he replied sarcastically.

“Joe,” she said, watching him cross and leave the room.  “Joe.”

When there was no answer, she called again, more forcefully this time.  “JOE!”

“What?”

“Look at this.”

Rickards reappeared.  “Look at what?”

Angela raised the girl’s light brown arm to reveal what Eshe had drawn on herself—an unmistakable shape in black ink.

When Rickards saw it, his expression changed.

“Does this look familiar?” asked Angela.

The shape on Eshe’s arm was instantly recognizable to both of them.

The spire in Bolivia.

Behind him, Townsend pressed into the room and handed Angela the cloth, which she used to dab at Eshe’s wounds.

“How about you, Professor?  Notice anything familiar?”

Townsend’s expression was just as stunned as Joe’s, quickly turning to fascination.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he said, moving past Rickards to bend down and study the drawing.

Mona was still in the dark, looking back and forth between the three and waiting for an explanation.  “What is it?”

Rickards shook his head.  “We really need to get out of here.”