Chris unlocked the door and rolled it open. Inside were two giant moving boxes. We stepped inside, turned on a battery-operated lantern, and shut the door behind us. The air felt close and stale and smelled dirty and somehow a little oily, like exhaust. I wanted out. Everything looked gunmetal gray, and I knew that meant it wouldn’t be long before that gray bubbled up into black bumps and panic would set in and I would have some sort of embarrassing meltdown. I tried to concentrate on the smell of Chris to keep me grounded. But I could feel the slate nerves crackling off him like static. His yellow was intense in here. Almost too intense.

He stood over one box, hands on hips.

“Well?” I asked. “You going to open it?”

“I know what’s inside,” he said. “I remember. I know what’s inside both of them.”

Still, he didn’t move, and if something didn’t happen soon, I was going to go crazy and start clawing at the door, so I bent and opened the flaps of a moving box. Inside, bags upon bags filled with powder and crystals and pills. Heriberto and his boys could have given the Hollises a run for their money when it came to pushing.

I reached in and scooped up a handful of bags, then let them drop.

“Holy crap,” I breathed. “You’ve been at this for a while.”

He nodded. “Sam.”

“Huh?”

He scratched the back of his neck, and then one eyebrow, wincing at the memory. “Ever since I realized it was Sam. It was one thing for Heriberto to be dealing. That goes with the territory. Using someone like Sam to do his dirty work, though . . .” He shook his head. “These aren’t just any kids, Nikki. These are kids who will eventually end up in the gang. If they’re not already. These kids have no future. And I couldn’t let that happen with Sam. Not after everything Rebecca did to get me out.”

I picked up and dropped another handful of bags. I couldn’t even imagine how much money was in that box.

“How did you afford all this?” I asked.

He pointed to the other box. Slowly, curiously, I walked over and opened its flaps. And was nearly blown away by the greens and reds and yellows of twenties and fifties and hundreds. Stacks and stacks of them. I gasped.

“Are you kidding me?” I dropped to my knees next to the box. I glanced at him, but he was looking down at his feet, his face set in grim concentration. “What did you do, rob a bank?”

“Close,” he said. “I robbed Heriberto.”

I sank back so I was resting on my heels, the hard concrete floor digging into my knees. “You’re kidding, right? You? I don’t believe it.”