CHAPTER 11
I LOOKED DOWN at the photo Seb passed me and stifled a groan. A picture of Black had been left in the pack by accident. I vaguely recalled the team including it when they canvassed the hotel staff for witnesses, just in case the morbid needed to see who had died. His handsome face stared out at me from the shiny paper, and my soul ached with sadness.
It was him the Garcias had recognised. Charles. The English version of the Spanish Carlos. I knew Black had never met any of the family, but Eduardo had his sources just like I had mine. Although Black and I tried to keep pictures of ourselves out of the public domain, they must have seen a photo of him sometime.
“No, that’s Charles. He never called himself Carlos. Do any of the others look familiar?”
Seb’s brow furrowed in conf
