She dug through the bag with quick, practiced movements, pulling out a neatly folded paper — a printed photo she had once taken from the house records, It was a picture of Valentina, recent and clear.
Then Maria stepped forward and offered it to them carefully, almost ceremoniously, like presenting a weapon to a soldier.
"This is Valentina," she said quietly.
"Now you know exactly who you're looking for."
The scarred man took the photo without a word, glancing at it once before slipping it into his jacket pocket, the silent understanding that passed between them needed no words.
Maria stepped back, her heart hammering in excitement, she had done her part, now it was up to them.
And soon very soon Valentina would finally pay, without wasting another second, Maria spun on her heels and rushed toward her room, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement.
She yanked open a drawer, rummaging through a stack of old files and photographs until she found her pen.
