Closely.
Too closely.
The girl leaned in again, her small hand gripping her father’s sleeve.
“It wasn’t an accident,” she murmured. “I heard them talking. The man from the house… and the one who came later.”
Ramiro froze.
“What man?” he whispered urgently.
“The one with the ring,” Salomé said. “The one who smelled like smoke.”
Her words were simple.
But they hit like thunder.
Because Ramiro knew exactly who she meant.