She pressed against my leg.
Both hands grabbed my jeans.
She hid behind me.
That got my attention faster than anything else had.
I looked down.
Her face had gone pale under the dirt.
I looked back at the manager.
“A menace?”
“She’s been sneaking around here for days.”
“Where are her parents?”
He wiped his forehead.
“Trailer park down the road, probably. Kids wander around here all the time.”
“Barefoot?”
He shrugged.
“Not my problem.”
The girl tightened her grip on my jeans.
The manager came closer.
“Come here.”
She moved behind me.
He pointed at her.
“I said come here.”
I stepped sideways.
Now I stood completely between them.
“You’re not touching her.”
The manager stopped.
I did not raise my voice.
I did not need to.
“She damaged motel property,” he said.
“She damaged my bag first.”
“Exactly.”
“So let me handle my bag.”
His eyes moved again toward the ice machine.
“The flap is broken.”
“I noticed.”
“She’s always breaking things.”
“Then call police.”
He hesitated.
It lasted less than a second.
But I saw it.
“I was going to.”
“Go ahead.”
Another hesitation.
Then his expression changed.
He tried smiling.
Bad idea.
Some people look friendly when they smile.
He looked like a man trying to remember what friendly was supposed to look like.
“Look,” he said. “You don’t need the hassle.”
“I’m not worried about hassle.”
“That bag looks expensive.”
“It isn’t.”
“I’ll replace it anyway.”
I stared at him.
He continued too fast.
“I’ll give you the room free for the week. Two hundred bucks cash. Just let me take the girl into the office until her family gets here.”
Two hundred dollars.
A week free.
For scratches on a bag.
I slowly looked at the ice machine.
Then at the child.
She was staring at the cracked flap.
Not at me.
Not at the manager.
The machine.
A child trying to vandalize something does not drag fifty pounds of leather across an entire motel.
She uses a rock.
A stick.
Her foot.
This girl had needed weight.
She had needed force.
She was trying to open that flap.
I crouched.
The manager’s voice changed.
“Stay away from that.”
That was the second time he made his mistake obvious.
I looked over my shoulder.
“Why?”
“It belongs to the motel.”
“So?”
“It’s dangerous.”
“You were worried about the plastic a second ago.”
He stepped closer.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I turned back to the girl.
“What’s inside?”