Page 66 of Girl in the Water

The adults’ section had twenty rooms, each with two single beds pushed against opposite walls. Some rooms housed permanent See-Love-Aid staff, the rest went to the volunteers who rotated out every two weeks.

“We have only one empty room right now,” Mrs. Frieseke opened a door for them and showed them in. “We’re usually booked full. I hope this is okay.”

Two beds, two chairs, a small table, and a nightstand. No dresser or wardrobe. Apparently, while the volunteers were here, they lived out of their backpacks.

Mrs. Frieseke said, “Bathrooms are at the end of the hall. Ladies to the left, gents to the right.”

“This is great.” Daniela swung her backpack onto the bed by the window, while Ian wondered if this was all a great conspiracy.

Separate rooms couldn’t be found? Really?

Why did everyone keep assuming he’d be okay with sharing a room? Thank God, at least they wouldn’t have to share a bed.

Waking up this morning…Daniela had her head on his shoulder, her arm across his chest. The way her eyes slowly opened to look into his. That moment when neither of them could look away…

Thatcould not happen again.

“Thank you for the accommodations,” Ian told Mrs. Frieseke when she looked at him with expectation, as if he might have missed something she’d said. He added, “We appreciate you putting us up here.”

Being at the scene of the kidnapping would be helpful to the investigation, better than trekking over daily from a distant hotel.

“Could you please show us where the Heyerdahls’ room is?” Daniela asked the woman.

Mrs. Frieseke pointed at a closed door at the end of the hallway.

A difficult spot, really, for a kidnapper. He or she would have had to stroll through the entire length of the dormitory to reach the room, then back, with a potentially crying baby. Yet, according to the original police report, nobody had seen anything.

But maybe the report didn’t record everything the police had learned.

“I’d like to talk to the police, if you could point us in the right direction.” Ian was itching to get started. They’d rested on the plane. He wanted to hit the ground running.

He had the name of the local detective he needed, so once Mrs. Frieseke told them where the police station was, they headed off that way. They took the bus they were told to take and stood in the back.

Within five minutes, Ian spotted two pickpockets. As the two youths headed toward them, Ian flashed a look of I’ll-break-your-scrawny-necks. They glared at him but turned away.

“Impressive,” Daniela said under her breath. Then, “Do you think the police will help us?”

“They should. The delegado from Rio said he would call ahead to make sure.”

“They won’t want to be shown up.” She looked down at her sandals, then shifted on her feet. “They could be involved in trafficking.”

And he bit back a curse, because he remembered what she’d told him about the red house on the river, how Rosa had been friends with the cops in her small town, and that they were frequent visitors to the girls.

He kept his eyes on Daniela, who’d already shook off her moment of hesitation. But still… Would she be uneasy with the local police? She had every reason to hate them. Meeting them might be the last thing she wanted to do. What if the uniforms brought back miserable memories?

Yet she stood on the bus now with her back straight, the angle of her chin pure determination, ready to face down whatever came her way. She was brave, perhaps the bravest person Ian knew, but even brave people hurt.

Oh, fuck it.He was hanging on to a support pole so the bus’s jerking and swaying wouldn’t knock him off his feet or into someone, but he reached out with his free hand and pulled her against him, her back to his chest, and held her there.

She immediately relaxed against him.

He didn’t tell her that she didn’t have to go to the police station if she didn’t want to. It would imply that he thought her weak; he thought she couldn’t handle it. He knew she could. But he would have spared her.

“I feel like I’m in a clothes dryer,” he said, and made it sound like he was only hanging on to her so they wouldn’t be thrown around as the bus turned, once again without slowing down, at the next intersection.

She responded with “I think the bus driver learned driving at a tractor derby.”

She was tough both mentally and physically. No slouch in hand-to-hand combat either, but she felt small and fragile against him. And quickly, Ian learned the danger of holding her. Once he allowed his arm around her, letting her go was nearly impossible.