Page 56 of Girl in the Water
She dropped her backpack on the king-size bed...theonlybed. “The storms last night damaged the roof. They had to close off the whole top floor.”
He followed her into the room, but not without caution.
The lobbyhadbeen hopping. With unhappy guests? But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some scheme of hers in her sudden, unreasonable quest to change their relationship.
Then he heard distant clanging somewhere above them. The barely there whine of a drill.Right. Repairs.And he felt guilty for suspecting her of dishonesty. She wasn’t manipulative.
The room was medium size, just the bed, two nightstands, a dresser with TV, and a desk with a chair.
He dropped his backpack in the corner by the window, as close to the air conditioner as he could get. “I’ll take the floor.”
She smiled at him, her jungle-green eyes as innocent as a baby dolphin’s. “We’ll take turns.”
She might not have arranged for the shared room, but the turn of events didn’t make her unhappy.
She sat on the middle of the bed cross-legged and opened her laptop. “I’ll sign into the Wi-Fi and keep going with the online research.”
They’d spent the first half of the flight gathering information on the missing baby’s parents and on the organization that had brought them to Brazil. See-Love-Aid was a nonprofit that took regular people on international trips that were part vacation, part charity work. Lasting two weeks at the longest, the programs fit into most people’s vacation schedules.Micro Missions, their home page said.
Not the worst idea Ian had ever heard. See-Love-Aid might be on to something. From what he’d seen on their web site, they’d taken a quarter million people on helping-hand vacations last year alone, and their numbers were growing.
Daniela bent over the laptop in the middle of the bed, all beauty and grace, her long black hair loosened from its usual strict coil and falling over her shoulders to touch the beige coverlet.
Ian rubbed the back of his neck, some weird nervous energy buzzing through him. “I’ll go out and look around.”
Before she could respond, he was out the door, and, in another few minutes, out of the hotel.
And then he could finally draw a full breath.
God, the two of them spending the night in the same room was the worst idea ever. Hopefully, by tomorrow night, the hotel could give them an extra room.
He wiped his forehead. He felt as if he was swimming in heat and humidity instead of walking.
The city was loud and colorful and alive, more so than any other city in the world. Rio had an undefinable, mesmerizing quality. The streets pulsed with life. Even the air smelled different, lush and fruity, salty from the sea breezes.
Four years ago, he’d been here briefly, looking for Finch, then he’d found Finch’s trail and followed it north, to Santana.
Finch had come to Rio to work security for the headquarters of a sugarcane conglomerate, Lavras Sugar and Ethanol.
Ian hadn’t really looked into the business the last time he’d been here. He’d hurried off to catch up with Finch. Back then, he hadn’t known that by the time he’d catch up with Finch, Finch would be dead.
Finch had been killed in Santana in the house by the Rio Negro, but he’d been in Rio when he’d left that message for Ian about having to go on the run. So it stood to reason that Finch’s troubles had begun in Rio de Janeiro.
On impulse, Ian took a cab to the headquarters of Lavras Sugar. He’d spent an insane amount of time researching them on the Internet but hadn’t found anything in the news, in legal reports, or on the employees’ social media pages that could explain what had happened to Finch.
“How would I go about getting a job with security?” he asked the mustachioed guard at the gate.
He was shown to the HR department.
The woman behind the desk, still a beauty in her mid-fifties, smooth skin, deep brown eyes, long dark hair—handed him forms to fill out. After the question,How have you heard about our company?he put:Recommended by former Lavras employee, Ronald Finch.
He didn’t have time to go undercover here right now. The best he could do was throw bread on the water and see if he got a quick nibble.
For a phone number, he gave his cell. For an address, he gave the street and number of an apartment building he’d seen on the way over. Since Daniela was at the hotel, he didn’t want to lead anyone there.
If Finch had been running from somebody at Lavras, and the bad guys wanted to talk to Ian, they wouldn’t find him at the address he provided. They’d have to call him. They’d have to make an appointment, probably pretending a fake job interview. At least he’d know when he’d be meeting them and where, and he’d be prepared.
On the way out of the building, he pretended to get confused and got off on the wrong floor.
