Girl in the Water

by Dana Marton

  While he convinced her, he’d file his reports at work, then take a leave of absence and return to Brazil, finally bring Finch’s murderers to justice.

  He wanted to track down Goat Man through Marcos Morais. He might even do some tracking from the US first, from the CPRU office where he had access to all kinds of international law databases. For the first time, he had a name, a place to start.

  He would run searches, go back to Rio, take out Marcus Morais and Goat Man.

  And if he followed this plan, Daniela and he could have a breather from each other too. Maybe she’d use the time apart to meet some nice young man.

  Maybe it was for the best that she’d left him in Manaus. The solo flight gave Ian time to try to figure out what the hell to say to her.

  Christ, when she’d dropped that towel.

  Yes, she was a woman, dammit. Of course, he knew that. Of course, he responded to her. He wasn’t dead.

  He wasn’t a conscienceless bastard either. He was too old for her, too jaded.

  He planned on having that talk as soon as he got home, but when he finally walked through the door to their apartment, he found her packing. Not unpacking from the Brazil trip, but packing up everything.

  She wore faded old jeans and a baggy T-shirt that covered nearly all of her, but he was still seeing her naked. What was wrong with him?

  She had a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and was laying out clothes with the other.

  He half expected her to throw the cup at him.

  “You’re right,” she said instead, no high emotions in her tone, professionally cool. “I need to make my own life.” She put shoes in a bag. “I’m going to spend the night with Crystal. I just talked to her. There’s an empty studio apartment in her building. I’m going to rent it tomorrow.”

  Ian dropped his backpack by the door, then walked into the living room, folded his tired body into his recliner, and just watched her, a mix of emotions flooding through him.

  She paused the packing long enough to look at him. “You saved me from a terrible life. Then you brought me to the US and you gave me a wonderful new life here. But somehow, it’s all connected to you. You ended up being my life. I need to make a life for myself.”

  He nodded numbly. Exactly. Hadn’t he been trying to tell her the same thing forever?

  Every word she said was true. Every word also hurt like hell.

  He hadn’t thought about her moving out completely. But, okay, she was right. He couldn’t expect her to be independent of him and be unwilling to let her go at the same time. Of course, she had to make a life of her own. Of course, she couldn’t do it from his apartment. And yet…

  No and yet. He filled his lungs. “Let me know if I can help with anything.”

  She flashed a half smile. “The whole point of independence is that I need to learn to do things without your help.”

  Well, he hated the sound of that.

  “You don’t have to run out of here like this,” he said. “I’m going to take some time off from work and go back to Brazil. I want to find something that’ll link Marcos Morais and Goat Man to Finch’s murder and put them behind bars.”

  She stopped moving. Was that worry crossing her face? But then, after a long moment, she simply nodded and went back to folding shirts. “I’m almost packed. Crystal is expecting me.”

  As he watched her roll up socks from the laundry basket, disjointed thoughts floated through his brain: the day he’d found her, Finch, Marcos Morais and his diamonds. Then some of those thoughts solidified and made Ian sit up straight.

  “When Finch told you to leave for a few days, just before he was killed… Did you pack? Did you take anything with you?”

  She turned away. She didn’t like talking about her life before DC. But after a few of seconds of silence, she finally said, over her shoulder, “I packed up a few dresses, my hairbrush, sandals. Probably more than I should have. I kind of worried that he didn’t mean it when he said I could come back. I thought maybe he was sending me away for good.”

  His stomach clenched. He could picture her, scared, rejected, being sent back to a life of abuse she’d barely escaped. He’d thought a lot about Finch and how he’d come by her. Had Finch thought he’d simply hired a housemaid?

  Maybe he had. Finch had always been too optimistic for his own good. He looked at the sunny side of life. Danger? What danger? What darkness?

  “Could he have sewn some diamonds into the hem of your clothes?” Ian asked Daniela. “Do you still have those clothes?”

  She put her coffee on the kitchen counter. “I’ve gained weight since. I threw things out when they got tight.”

  He tried not to look at her body. She’d filled out, yes, but only what was needed. She’d been too thin when he’d found her. Years of not having enough to eat had left its mark on her back then. Now she glowed with health, her skin and hair shining, and… And he wasn’t going to think about how striking she looked.

  “How about shoes?” He came out of the recliner. “Do you have the sandals? He could have put diamonds into the heels.”

  “They fell apart.” She flashed an apologetic look. “They were old rubber sandals. I tossed them last year.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, pacing now. A bitter laugh bubbled up his throat. “Can you imagine? If Finch hid the diamonds in your clothes, then sent you off for a few days. And then he’s killed, and you never knew, and tossed it all in the garbage?”

  She started pacing too and looked as frustrated as he felt. “Why didn’t Finch tell me?” Then she whirled around. Her face lit up. “Wait! I have the bag.”

  She flew to the hallway closet, dropped to her knees, and began chucking things out over her shoulders.

  He was right there. “What bag?”

  “Finch’s bag that I took with me that night. I used it when you brought me to the US. The handle was broken, but I fixed it. I know I have it somewhere.”

  He dropped to his knees next to her and edged her aside a little so he could dig in too.

  The closet was a mess, the catch-all for all things they rarely used: old shoes, bags, a rain slicker from when he’d taken her to see Niagara Falls, umbrellas, flashlight, first aid kit, a toolbox, shoeshine kit.

  Then she grabbed a chunk of dirty canvas way in the back and pulled out a bag, all bent out of shape, with mismatched handles, presenting it to him with the aplomb of a magician who’d just produced a rabbit from a hat.

  And he stared at her with just as much amazement as if she had. “If Finch hid the diamonds in the bag…”

  They sat on the floor, facing each other, the bag between them.

  “Then we have them,” she said with undisguised triumph.

  The bag stood open, empty. Ian reached in and felt around anyway. No inside pockets. No outside pockets either. The bag was pretty simple, about the size of carry-on luggage. Finch had probably used it exactly for that purpose.

  “Did he specifically give you this bag?” Ian asked as he raised his gaze to Daniela.

  She shook her head. “He kept cassava in it under the sink. That’s why I took it. I thought he wouldn’t miss it. It was broken anyway.”

  Disappointment washed through Ian. If Finch hadn’t given it to her…

  He lifted the bag, turned it all around, upside down, shook it. Nothing. Except… “It does feel heavy.”

  “Heavy-duty canvas. And it’s big.”

  But he was already tapping the bottom—structured and rectangular, with something stiff sewn in between two layers of fabric to give the bag shape. A thick piece of plastic maybe. He ran his fingers all around it. A very thick piece of plastic. Too thick.

  He grabbed for his pocketknife but came up empty, bit back a curse as he remembered. He’d forgotten to take the knife out of his pocket when they’d left for Brazil, and security had taken it away at the airport. Can’t take stuff like that on a plane.

  He scooted over to the hall table and opened the drawer, retrieved Finch’s
knife he’d brought to the US when he’d brought Daniela all those years ago. He freed the blade, then carefully cut into the canvas bag.

  He’d been right about the piece of plastic. There were two sheets. And sandwiched between them… “A bag of rock salt?”

  “No.” Daniela helped him work the thing out—a pound bag of sugar, with Lavras Raw Natural Sugar in blue font stamped on the bag.

  The contents had the brownish white color of raw sugar, large grained. Sugar crystals as big as the ones in rock candy. Probably made for those fancy upscale artisan coffee places.

  But why would Finch hide a bag of sugar. Unless…

  Ian cut the bag open and poured some into his palm. Licked the granules. “Sweet.”

  Daniela raised an unimpressed eyebrow at this method of investigation. “It’s sugar.”

  “Yes, but do you know what these crystals remind me of?” He held out his palm for her inspection.

  She stared at him. “Sugar?”

  “Raw diamonds. This is almost exactly what small diamonds look like before they’re cut.”

  “How do you know what raw diamonds look like?”

  “Murfreesboro, Arkansas.” He grinned, feeling more optimistic by the second. “Crater of Diamonds State Park. Went there as a kid with my mother. She had family nearby. Tourists can look for diamonds out in the field. Before you go out, some guy shows you what to look for.”

  “Does anyone ever find anything?”

  “Every single day. Biggest one ever found was over sixteen carats.”

  “I want to go there,” she said immediately, with a smile of pure enthusiasm.

  He nearly said he would take her but bit back the words before they could slip out. Instead, as she leaned closer, he lifted his palm for her inspection.

  She flashed him a dubious look. Took a granule. Put it on her tongue. “Definitely sugar.”

  Ian hummed. “We’ll see.”

  He took the handful of granules to the counter and tossed them into Daniela’s steaming cup of coffee. He stirred with his finger and ignored the heat, his blood rushing faster in his veins as he waited. “Grab one of the blue bath towels.”

  Daniela ran to the bathroom and was back in two seconds. She lay the folded towel on the kitchen counter. Ian poured the coffee onto it.

  The coffee soaked into the towel. The sugar had melted. Except for two granules. He picked them up and rinsed them very carefully in the sink.

  “I’ll be damned.” He held them out on his palm. “Raw diamonds.”

  They turned at the same time to stare at the bag of sugar they’d left on the floor.

  “There could be a bunch more in there.” Excitement bubbled in Daniela’s voice.

  “I’m betting there are. Diamonds are not like drugs,” he thought out loud. “Airport dogs can’t sniff them out. And mixed in with the sugar, nobody can spot them with the naked eye.” He looked at her. “It’s a pretty damn good disguise. Any minute now, I’m going to be forced to think that Marcos Morais is smarter than he looks. I’m not going to like it.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Can you use this to get him?”

  “You bet.”

  Her smile widened, and she jumped forward to hug him, but just for a second, just an expression of sheer joy, completely lacking romantic overtones. Then she stepped back.

  Little by little, her face turned serious. Her eyes were clear green pools. “Could I ask one thing? The last thing. I swear.”

  Like there was anything he wouldn’t give her. He nodded.

  “Please don’t go back to Brazil. I don’t want you killed or to end up in a Brazilian jail if you kill Marcos. There has to be a way to put him away now that we have proof.”

  That she worried about him made his heart ache. “Finch was my friend. I didn’t rush right down there when he first called that he was in trouble. If I had, he wouldn’t be dead now. I want the bastards who killed him.”

  He wanted the bastards dead. Anything else felt like the betrayal of a friendship, a betrayal of Finch.

  Daniela’s gaze softened. “You couldn’t save Linda, so you wanted to save Finch, but you got there too late. He’s the one who stole the diamonds. Finch was responsible for his actions and the consequences. Just like Linda was responsible for what she did. Not you. You’re not responsible for what other people do.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “You did. And that hippy shrink you forced me to see when you brought me to DC.”

  “I’m definitely regretting that. I sent you there so you could deal with what happened to you, not so you can psychoanalyze me.”

  Her lips twisted into a half smile. “Unintended consequences.”

  He grumbled.

  She turned somber. “You need to let go of revenge.”

  “I want it.”

  “You deserve better. You deserve more. You don’t need to punish yourself by getting into dangerous situations.”

  “I’m seriously regretting that shrink. You should have talked me out of it.”

  “Nossa Senhora Aparecida! How much did I beg? I despised her! She was so damn cheerful about everything, I wanted to drown her.” An outraged peal of laughter escaped her.

  The laughter was good. At least she didn’t hate his guts.

  He knew he’d messed up. Big-time. But wasn’t sure where. He’d never had anything but good intentions where Daniela was concerned.

  This wasn’t that bad, was it? It was good that she was starting her own separate life.

  But all he could think of was how much he didn’t want her to finish packing and leave him.

  “You don’t really want revenge,” she said as she walked to her suitcase and zipped it up.

  “I don’t?”

  “You want your family back. And you want your friend back. The thing is, if you’d been brave enough to accept what I offered you in Manaus, you could have had both in me,” she said with a heartbreaking smile as she grabbed the suitcase, passed by him, and walked out of his life.

  * * *

  Ian

  Ian woke to an empty apartment in the morning. The place was depressing. Maybe he’d start looking for something smaller. An apartment where he wouldn’t have to look at Daniela’s bedroom door and expect her to walk out any second. A kitchen she hadn’t cooked in. A living room she hadn’t decorated.

  She’d been wrong yesterday about him wanting a family again.

  He had to let Daniela go. He was determined to see this through. He wanted only the best for her, and he wasn’t it.

  He turned on the TV just so the place wouldn’t be so quiet. Some announcer was overhyping a solar storm and its effects on satellites, what would happen if all the satellites were knocked out all at once. Ian clicked the TV off. He missed the days when news was news. When journalists reported on the things that happened, instead of endlessly hyping things that “might” happen and what celebrities wore to the gym.

  His mother popped in as he was having breakfast. She’d colored her hair back to blond. And, apparently, she’d developed some serious skills with the eyeliner that would make a drag queen proud.

  “Where is Daniela?” was her first question.

  “Good to know who comes first with you,” Ian grumbled into his coffee. Then sighed. “She moved out.”

  Iris came to sit at the table with him. “What are you talking about?”

  Might as well get it over with. “We kind of had a fight.”

  “She’s right.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  For a cheerful, softhearted woman, his mother faked a pretty good “mean look.” “Don’t make me choose between the two of you.”

  He chewed eggs that tasted like garden dirt. Everything felt off this morning. He could swear someone stole the caffeine out of his coffee. He couldn’t perk up for anything.

  “Why?” his mother demanded, either oblivious or uncaring of his misery.

  “She wanted t
hings I couldn’t give.”

  “You mean she wanted a real relationship. How is it that I’m the only person who’s seen this coming?”

  He stared at her, appalled, giving up on the eggs. “You always treated her like she was my little sister. Like she was your daughter!”

  “My daughter-in-law. Really. I’ve been hoping quietly like a good mother and not being pushy about it. But an idiot could see that you two were made for each other.”

  Acid bubbled up in his stomach. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to ruin her life.”

  “Good. I love that girl. You mess with her, and you answer to me.”

  He stared at her. Didn’t know what to say. Had all the women in his life gone crazy? Was it a worldwide hormone wave? Maybe solar storms drew female hormones like the moon drew the oceans?

  He might have been dumb about Daniela, but he wasn’t dumb enough to ask that question out loud.

  His mother sighed. “I was okay without your father, you know.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I fear that you think we would have had it easier if he hadn’t left. I know you wanted to be the exact opposite, a good provider for Linda and the boys. I know you blame yourself for not staying home when she asked. But you couldn’t have stayed. That’s not how the army works.”

  He closed his eyes trying to block out the words, rubbed the pads of his fingers over his eyelids.

  “You’re scared.”

  “I’m not scared.” He opened his eyes so he could glare at her. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

  “For whom?” She flashed the you-can’t-fool-your-own-mother look. “You still feel guilty about Linda and Connor and Colin. For years, you punished yourself with senseless fights, and the drinking, and those floozies. Don’t think I don’t know. All that punishment and you still don’t think you deserve better.” She paused. “I partially agree.”

  He blinked. “You do?”

  “I don’t think you deserve Daniela, not if you keep acting the coward. I raised you better than that.” She rose, kissed him on the top of his head. “I love you.”