The Water Keeper(42)

Her voice had an edge. “The girls at school were talking about their homes, parents, what they were doing for fall break, where they were going, and all that. I knew nothing. I’ve never known anything about me. All I knew was that I was going to spend one more sucky holiday alone. With the same old sucky questions. I got tired of them always talking behind my back. So I broke into the room where they keep the files and dug around. Most of the files were an inch thick. Each a pedigree of royalty. So-and-so is related to so-and-so, who did such and such. More money than God. My file had two pieces of paper.”

“The second?”

She handed me a smaller sheet the size of an index card. It was a picture.

Of me.

She pointed. “That’s you, right?”

I looked to be about fifteen years younger. I did not know when it was taken or who had taken it. It showed me standing in the water on the south side of my island, shirt off, a cast net in my arms. Doing what I love. The look on my face was one of peace. Contentment. Whoever had taken it knew enough about me to know when to snap the shutter. They must have been standing in the trees along the bank and snapped it when I turned to throw the net. Taped to the underside of the picture was a newspaper headline from the New York Times dated sixteen years ago. The headline read, “Kidnapped Senator’s Daughter Rescued and Returned Unharmed by Mystery Man. Shot 3 Times He Paddled Seven Miles Navigating by the Stars.”

The article was not attached to the headline. Which was all right with me. I knew what it said. I held the pieces in my hand. “Anything else?”

She pulled a shoestring-size piece of leather from around her neck. It held a large brass-looking key.

She offered the key. “Ever seen this?”

I studied it, flipping it over and back in my hand. “Not to my knowledge.” One side of the key read “27”; the other side had the address of a bank in Miami.

I had grown somewhat annoyed. “That’s all you got?”

Her eyes never flickered when she spoke. “It’s what I’ve got.”

Summer continued, “Baby, where’s your school?”

She turned to Summer. “I’m not your baby.”

Summer put her hands on her hips. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Ellie, but it’s not my real name.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Seven foster homes. Four boarding schools.”

Summer stepped closer. “What’s your real name?”

Ellie spoke without emotion. “You mean like on my birth certificate?”

Summer nodded.

“Jane Doe.”

Summer’s voice softened. “Is somebody looking for you?”

Expressionless, Ellie shrugged. “No idea.”

Summer leaned in closer. “Where’s your mom now?”

Ellie spoke with governed sarcasm. “If I knew that, do you think I’d have stuffed myself in that box?”

Summer asked again, “Where’s your school?”

“New York.”

Ellie stared at me. “Look, I don’t like being here any more than you, but can we just skip all this? Did you have some kid you didn’t want? Maybe dropped her on the curb somewhere? If so, just tell me. It’s no big deal—”

I interrupted her. “My wife died before we were able to have kids.”

Summer asked, “How’d you get from New York to Florida?”

“Train.”

“And the island?”

“Uber.”

“How’d you pay for it?”

Ellie frowned. “The girls at my school are rich. Daddy’s money and everything. They never miss it.”

Summer stepped closer. “Honey, how old are you?”

“I’m not your honey either.”

“Okay.”

“What’s it to you?”

“You just look so young.”

“Just how old should I be? I can actually hold my own sippy cup and change my own diaper.”

Summer passed her off to me with a look. The lights shone on the girl’s features. Eyes. Chin. Cheekbones. She was beautiful, tough, and her body language suggested she was not afraid of a scrap.

I took a go. “How long have you been looking for me?”

“Couple of weeks.”

Summer spoke up. “You’ve been on your own for three weeks?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been on my own since I was born.”

Summer kept at it. “Do I need to call someone and let them know you’re okay?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Who would you call?”

This girl really was on her own. I could hear her stomach growling. “You hungry?”

Another shrug. “Not really.”

Summer took the baton. “Would you like to shower?”

“No, I don’t want a shower and I don’t want any food. I don’t want anything from you two.” She looked at me. “I just want to know if you have any idea who I am or where I might have come from. If not—” She tapped the key on her chest. “I’m headed to Miami.”

I didn’t have time for this girl. But that picture kept staring up at me.

I tried to speak calmly. “The bank won’t let you access that.”