Chapter 5 - THE GIRL
She couldn't have been more than twelve. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Wearing a school uniform I didn't recognize. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.
"Hey," I said. My voice came out rough. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."
She looked up at me. Her face was streaked with tears. Her lip was split. A bruise was blooming on her cheekbone.
"He said he'd come back," she whispered. "He said if I made a sound, he'd..."
"Who? Who said that?"
She shook her head. Fresh tears rolling down her face.
"The man who lives here."
I frowned. "Miss Vasquez lives here. Elena. Do you know her?"
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The girl looked at me like I'd spoken in a language she didn't understand.
"Elena's my mother," she said. "She's been dead for three years."
