Page 62 of Girl in the Water

Ian kept a close eye on the guy.

When they came out of the water, they sat on the sand some distance from Ian, chatted. Too far to hear. Then they went back into the water again.

This went on until the sky turned dark.

Ian's mood was darker.

Finally, surfer dude said good-bye. Then asked something. Daniela shook her head. He kissed her on the cheek.

That brought Ian to his feet.

But the guy was walking away already, and Daniela ran up to Ian, laughing.

“You didn’t have to wait here. You could have gone back to the hotel.”

“I like looking at the water. It’s relaxing.” His jaw hurt from being clenched for the past hour. His blood pressure was probably in the stratosphere.

Daniela kept grinning, falling in step next to him as they walked off the beach. “He asked me to go and have a drink with him. I told him I have to get up early in the morning.”

The truth. They did have an early flight. But was that the only reason she hadn’t gone with the boy? Did she want to go?

If she’d decided to go, could Ian let her?

Those questions and more like them buzzed around in his brain all the way up in the elevator.

Since she’d been wet when she’d pulled her yellow dress on, the fabric clung to her. Ian looked straight ahead, at the doors. Was this elevator smaller than the one they’d ridden down earlier?

He was ready when the damn doors opened, practically jumping out into the hallway. He strode into their room, then into the bathroom, straight into a cold shower.

When he came out, Daniela went in.

Ian moved to the window and stood in front of the air conditioner as he looked out over the city. He turned his thoughts to the actual reason why they were here.

Baby Lila. Kidnapping.

He tried to remember as much about Manaus as he could from his one previous visit. The biggest city of the Amazon stood on the banks of the Rio Negro, the black river, bursting with two million people. A sizeable crowd in which they had to find one six-month-old baby.

And Ian was also going to keep investigating Finch’s death. Finch had spent some time in Manaus—a major port for ocean vessels, fifteen hundred kilometers from the ocean—on his way up the river to Santana, where he’d finally, fatefully, settled.

Ian checked his phone.Nothing from Lavras Sugar and Ethanol.No missed texts, no missed calls.Early days.Probably nobody had even read his application yet.

Now that Ian was back in Brazil, Finch was on his mind all the time. Not that he’d forgotten his friend these past years. He just hadn’t been able to take off from work. The assignments kept coming, one after the other, and he was glad for the pay. His larger, two-bedroom apartment cost more than his old shithole of a place. And he insisted on helping Daniela with college, which she swore to pay back the second she finally got a job that didn’t pay minimum wage. She’d been working at the campus bookstore for the past four years.

A perfectly safe job. Instead of moving on to CPRU, she should have tried working for a library.

Ian didn’t care about the money. He wanted her to be safe and happy.

He kept his back to the bathroom door so he wouldn’t have to see her come out in her skimpy nightgown. But he couldn’t not hear the water running.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared intently out at the city, at the million lights.

I want us to be lovers.She’d actually said that.

Christ.

Ian squeezed his eyes shut. They were going to bring him out of the Amazonian jungle in a straitjacket.

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