Page 27 of Girl in the Water
Not much to go on.
“Anything else? Scar on his face? Limp? Anything I could find him by?”
“A scar on his nose.” She drew a line straight across the bridge with her finger.
“What did he wear? Poor clothes, rich clothes, a uniform?” A uniform would be helpful. A uniform would be an actual lead.
“Rich clothes, senhor,” Daniela said. “A white suit with a white hat.” And then she added, “Once, a man in a white suit came to visit one of the girls at Senhora Rosa’s house. Senhora Rosa said he was an important man. He worked for the police.”
But not a cop, if he didn’t have a uniform. Maybe he’d been a detective. Or higher. The police commissioner.Ian considered that for a few seconds before he asked, “What happened to Finch’s body?”
She shrank again.
Ian made a point to relax his body language. He leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs in front of him, and gentled his voice. “I’m not going to be angry.”
Still, several seconds ticked by before she said with reluctance, “I buried Senhor Finch, like my mother. I just…” She swallowed hard, wouldn’t look at him. “I couldn’t find a log to carve out.”
Ian stared. He pictured her struggling to drag Finch down to the river on a sheet, then rolling him into the black water.
Damned if Ian knew how to feel about that.
Not mad at her, though. She did what she had to for survival, and Ian was glad that she’d done it. If she’d gone to the police, they would have either locked her up for the murder or taken her back to Rosa. He was glad that she’d had this past month here, without anyone to abuse her.
He kept asking questions, repeated some he’d already asked, but she didn’t have much new information to add.
The best Ian could figure was that whoever had been after Finch in Rio had found him here in Santana and killed him.
Daniela finished her food and immediately jumped up to clean the table.
Ian stood too. The food had knocked his headache back a little.
All right, what’s next?
Maybe he could talk to the neighbors. Maybe someone had seen more, seen the man come into the house the night of the murder. Or more than one man. Hard to see how one guy could have taken down Finch.
Before he could think more about that, Daniela was in front of him, her hands tightly clasped together, her eyes downcast. The table was already clean. “Please don’t send me back to Rosa, Senhor Ian.”
The quiet desperation in her voice made acid claw at his stomach lining. He needed a shot of whiskey, the sooner the better.
“You go back to Rosa over my dead body,” he said through gritted teeth.
But she only stood still with her head down, nothing but hopelessness and misery in the set of her slim shoulders. Maybe she didn’t believe him.
Why the hell would she believe him? When the hell had anyone done right by her before, dammit?
He worked to tamp down his rising fury so it wouldn’t come through his voice. “Where would you like to go?”
“Please let me stay with you.” She folded herself smaller. “I won’t be any trouble. You won’t even notice me.”
Christ, he couldn’t stand to see anyone like this.
“All right. If you want to stay, you can stay.”
She was the only one who could positively identify Goat Man, anyway. “But I don’t want you begging in front of me, or anyone else. Do you understand? This is where it ends, Daniela. You’re starting over.”
Her head snapped up, an equal measure of confusion and relief on her beautiful face. “I can stay with you?”
“You can. In your room,” he added.
