Page 20 of Girl in the Water

When she returned home, Ian followed her once again, and stayed just a little up the street for the rest of the day, watching the house.

No sign of Finch.

The idiot had probably moved on. The young woman was probably the next tenant. Finch was running from people, so it made sense that he wouldn’t stay long in any one place.

He’d been traveling upriver until now. Most likely, he would keep going in that direction. Ian eyed the boats roaring up the Rio Negro. Maybe he needed to hire one to take him up that way. But he decided to check out the house from a little closer first—the very next time its new occupant left the place.

Unfortunately, she stayed in for the rest of the day.

Ian spent the night on the street. He had enough bulk and a mean enough face when he chose so that nobody bothered him. And at least, miraculously, it only drizzled a little. The bugs ate him alive, pretty much, but there was no helping that.

Finch never showed.

The girl came out in the morning. She wore the same green dress as the day before, with one very significant difference. The dress was cinched with Finch’s lucky belt.

Ian’s hands fisted. He relaxed them with effort.

Finch had worn that belt every single day he wasn’t in uniform. Won the buckle in a rodeo in his home state of Texas. He wouldn’t have traded it for a thousand acres.

The only way Finch had let that belt go was if he was dead.

Ian watched the girl and swore under his breath. He waited until she disappeared in the throng of people, then he hurried into the house at long last.

A pair of combat boots waited just inside the door. Probably Finch’s, but Ian couldn’t tell for sure. Combat boots all looked the same.

Shirts and cargo pants in the bedroom. Could have been Finch’s. Could have been any other man’s. Roughly Finch’s size, though, so that was something. He was a pretty big guy. Around here, the locals were smaller.

Ian searched under the mattress, found a Glock G43—the gun Finch liked to carry concealed, less bulky than the SIG Sauer P938, Finch had always claimed. Fully loaded, and one in the chamber. Ian tucked the weapon in the back of his waistband.

When the bedroom didn’t turn up anything more interesting, he checked the smaller room where the girl kept her things: a few dresses, a few trinkets.

Why would she be living with Finch?

Ian backed out, checked the main room and the kitchen. Nothing and nothing. Except, in the kitchen, the bamboo floor had some brown stains he’d missed when he’d come through earlier. Someone had scrubbed those boards regularly, he could tell, but in the grooves, that rusty brown had set in.

He stilled. He knew what stained like that.

And then he knew more than he wanted. A large blood stain on the floor. The young woman wearing Finch’s belt. Finch nowhere to be seen—even leaving his weapon behind.

Acid bubbled up in Ian’s stomach.

He was very likely standing on the spot where his friend had been killed.

* * *

Daniela

Daniela bought soap at the market, paying with her own money. The eel had been a lucky catch. They didn’t usually come this far down the river.

She had long ago run out of the money Senhor Finch had given her. She felt guilty for staying in his house. She should have gone back to Rosa like he’d told her.

But every day, she convinced herself to stay just one day longer.

She walked back slowly with the soap. She had stopped by the soap maker’s cart yesterday, but he had asked her where Senhor Finch was, and the crowd had overwhelmed her and made her heart beat too fast, so she’d run home without buying soap from the old man.

She was proud of herself for doing better today.

Andshe had food,andshe had some money left. She still could barely believe that she’d caught that eel.