Nikki wasn’t sure what to say; how much truth to give.
“Somebody hurt her,” she said at last.
Audrey stared, chewing on her hair.
“And that’s why she died? Because somebody hurt her?”
“Yes.”
Audrey blinked several times as if earnestly trying to hold back tears, but a few slipped past her guard. Her hands balled into fists, and her mouth pressed tightly shut.
Nikki felt horribly inadequate. She was suddenly angry at Sonia for not answering her phone, for leaving her to deal with this situation. She was angry at Fiona and Jayston Lake for not taking care of their kid, for letting her wander off alone into Naples.
“C’mon,” she said, gesturing Audrey forward.
But Audrey didn’t budge. She just stood, face contorted, and body rigid. Snot drained onto her upper lip. Her clear attempt to hold the emotion inside was somehow more awful than the wailing had been.
Nikki didn’t know what to do. It occurred to her that the kid was an odd mix of independent ideas and compliant trust. On the one hand, she’d exercised some exceptional will to find Nikki and navigate her way through a foreign city. On the other hand, she’d implicitly trusted complete strangers: the taxi driver, and now Nikki. Was this the result of privilege—this sense of utter protection? She clearly had no idea of the danger she was in. The evening could have easily ended quite differently for the little rich girl.
“Bad things happen sometimes,” Nikki said. “It isn’t fair that you have to know this when you’re just a kid. But this is why you need to be careful—why you need to stay close to people you trust. You can’t just trust strangers. It isn’t safe. You can’t run off by yourself.”
“Like Claire ran away?”
Nikki hesitated, then asked, “Did you know Claire was running away?”
Audrey nodded, and sucked on her hair.
“Did she tell you why? Did she say where she was going?” Nikki asked.
Audrey shook her head.
Nikki exhaled.
“Are you going to find the people who hurt her?” Audrey asked.
Nikki wasn’t sure what to tell her. She wanted to say that she wasn’t on the case anymore, but she heard herself saying instead, “Yes. I’ll find them.”
Audrey shuffled towards Nikki, and they walked together once more.
They were approaching the end of the pier when, in the dim light ahead, a tall, lean figure moved towards them with restless energy.
“Audrey,” called a deep voice. “Is that you?”
“Daddy,” Audrey called back.
Nikki shouted, “Mr. Lake?”
Despite the chill, he was in his shirtsleeves, and his stockinged feet struck the asphalt as he rushed forward with a sharp, almost aggressive precision. He came directly to Audrey and, crouching down, gripped her shoulders, scanning her face.
“Good god, Audrey, where have you been? I was preparing to phone the police.”
“Mr. Lake,” Nikki said. “Your daughter took a taxi into the center of Naples.”
“You took a taxi!” he exclaimed.
Audrey started crying.
“I wanted to see Nikki,” she sniffled.
