Read Broken for Free Online Page B

minute.”
    “What?”
    “You wanna know something? You want to know one of the reasons I look forward to this dead-end job every day I wake up? It’s
     because maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to hang out and have coffee with you. Do you realize that?”
    She sighs, shaking her head. “Kyle—”
    “No, just—look—I don’t claim to know you. But I’ve spent enough time with you to know that something’s up. So what’s going
     on? Tell me. I know it’s not me because I haven’t done anything. God knows I do things and I’ve done plenty in my life, but
     I haven’t done anything this time.”
    “It’s not you.”
    “Then what is it? Did something happen at dinner last night—did I say anything wrong?”
    “Of course not.”
    “I’m missing something. Just fill in the blanks for me.”
    “I can’t,” Laila says. “Not now.”
    “How long does it take to really get through those walls of yours?”
    Laila scans the sidewalk. This city is so clean, so picturesque, so much so that she sometimes wonders what she’s doing here.
    For a moment she thinks of the sidewalks of Manhattan or the city streets of Chicago. Then she thinks of another city, a place
     of refuge and secrets, a dark place she knows she belongs.
    “Nobody’s getting through,” she tells Kyle. “Because there’s nothing to find once you’re in.”
    •   •   •
    Lex follows the stocky, hairy legs in plaid shorts and black socks ascending a third flight of narrow stairs. When they reach
     the top and enter the apartment, he’s surprised the studio is so expansive and bright, with sunlight coming in from every
     possible direction except the floor.
    Breathing in, Lex is more winded than the landlord it took him half a day to find. He spent much of the time in a library
     searching for Laila’s name online. He found one mention of an address somewhere after an hour and a half of Googling. Half
     a dozen calls later, he was talking to the short and round man next to him.
    “You’re not the first person that’s come around looking for her,” the man says with a slight Eastern European accent.
    The man’s name is Robert Farnick, and he agreed to come out and show the apartment after a couple of calls.
    “Who else did?” Lex asks, walking across the vacant floor and hearing the creaks in the wood.
    “I don’t know. Some guy—dark-haired, cocky guy. Not very friendly.”
    “What’d he want?”
    “Same thing as you. Looking for her. What happened to her?”
    “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
    “What’d you say your name was?”
    “Lex Torres.”
    “Brother, huh?”
    Lex nods as he looks around the empty loft. He can imagine Laila in this space, living out the dream of a young girl making
     it in the big city, seemingly living out another person’s life. He can picture art on the walls, framed shots of her from
     the New York days, modern furniture, everything neat and orderly just like the way her room used to be back in Brady when
     she never seemed to spend much time there.
    Perhaps she didn’t spend a lot of time here either.
    “She left everything behind?”
    “Even clothes. Crazy thing too. Called her cell number and discovered it was out of service. I eventually decided to sell
     most of the stuff. Haven’t been able to find a taker for this loft. Times are tough, you know.”
    “Any personal things that you still have?”
    “Personal like what?”
    Lex glances at the man’s necklace that’s almost hidden underneath a jungle of hair. “Like anything.”
    “I don’t know. Maybe.”
    “Mind if I take a look through them?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Robert Farnick appears to know a lot and wears a face as if he knows it too.
    “Look, man. I haven’t seen my sister in years, and I’m really worried. You got any siblings?”
    Farnick doesn’t answer him but instead examines him to see if he’s lying. Lex stares back. He’s tired and isn’t in the mood
     for games or