Page 36 of When Lies Unfold

I muster a weak smile, because I wholly disagree. “Wow.” That’s all I can say.

With an earnest expression in place, she reaches for my left hand. “Cool tattoos! I love butterflies. My name’s Alma. Wanna see my room?” She tugs me farther into the hallway.

Before I can form a response, a woman comes racing toward us. Dressed like the other staff in black slacks and a plain white polo shirt, the woman appears harried, her features creased with worry.

“Alma! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Stray hairs have come loose from the woman’s neat bun as she hisses at the child. “You’re not supposed to be over here!”

The little girl doesn’t respond to the woman but maintains a death grip on my hand, so I attempt to explain. “I’m sorry, but I just found her?—”

“Alma.” All three of us freeze in place at the sound of the familiar masculine voice behind me. “I have business to discuss with Miss Arias.”

Alma sags a moment before we turn to face him. Then the small girl gives him an innocent beseeching look.

“Nice try.” He squints at her. “Not gonna work.”

She tips her head to the side, jutting out her bottom lip, and tugs on my hand.

Expression ripe with suspicion, he cuts me a brief glance. “How’d you meet Alma?”

“She was waiting outside the bathroom when I opened the door.” I glance at the little girl. “Can you please tell your father that you were standing”—I point to the exact area where I discovered her—“right here when I came out of the bathroom?”

She blinks up at me, remaining silent. Great. Just fucking great.

“She doesn’t speak.”

It takes a moment for Santiago’s words to sink in. I frown and face him. “What?”

A muscle in his cheek flexes. “I said, she doesn’t speak.”

“But she…” My attention veers to Alma, who peers up at me innocently, and my words die on my tongue.

“She what?” A steely challenge coats his tone.

God, this whole family is supremely fucked up. “Never mind.”

Alma grunts and pulls on my hand again, attempting to lead me down the hall.

“Where do you think you’re goin’, young lady?” Santiago’s stern tone doesn’t do much to deter the girl. She keeps pulling me, and damn, she’s strong for such a little thing.

His eyes narrow to slits. “You want her to see your room?”

At her excited nod, Santiago appears to wage an internal war, his hesitation visible. His gaze scores over me as if he’s searching for an indication I’ve put this little girl up to this.

Finally, he scrubs a hand down his face. “Fine. Do it now, but”—he flashes her a warning look—“no more than five minutes.” He peers past us at the other woman. “I expect you to keep better tabs on her.”

“Yes, sir,” comes the woman’s rapid reply.

Now that she’s been granted Santiago’s permission, Alma nearly jerks my arm out of its socket, dragging me farther down the hall.

She leads me to where it finally intersects with another long hallway, rushes to the right, and stops at the first door on the left.

Hovering at the doorway, she points at my boots. I glance down at them. “You need me to take them off?”

She nods.

“Okay, then.” I slide them off, leaving me in my socked feet. It’s probably the only part of me that’s not splattered in blood.

When she leads me inside her room, the other woman lingers in the doorway with an odd expression pasted on her face. If I didn’t know any better, I would think it was shock. Regardless, I have no doubt she’ll report everything said and done back to Santiago.

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