The woman was nothing like what I’d expected. She was very young, for starters, and small, the size of a teenager, although I’d peg her as in her early twenties. She had a petite, heart-shaped face and long, dark hair that was held back with a crimson silk scarf. She wore skinny jeans with Ugg boots and a frilled white shirt under a leather jacket.

Her eyes were huge, the pupils so dilated she looked like a cartoon character. But when she smiled, her teeth were straight and white, her hand warm and soft when she shook mine.

“This is Emma,” Gabe introduced me.

“Hey, Emma. Sorry you had to come out here in the middle of the night,” she said. Her voice was very high, like a child’s. In the creamy glow of the lantern light, I could just make out a rose tattoo creeping out from the collar at her throat. “I’m Violeta.”

CHAPTER 13

VIOLETA OPENED THE BLACK BRIEFCASE. She pulled out two stacks of cash and thunked them on the table.

“That’s the rest of your money.”

I stared at it, unsure if I should count it. Would she be offended?

She swiped at her nose and sniffed. “Count it. I don’t care.”

“No, it’s okay. I trust Gabe.” I dropped the money into my purse.

Violeta arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Great. Now let’s talk about my business proposition.”

She sniffed again. It was really starting to annoy me. “Would you like a tissue?” I asked.

For some reason this made her giggle, the sound high-pitched, like a chipmunk.

“You’re funny! I like you!” she said.

She swiped at her nose again, her eyes glittering. She pulled a baggie of pills out of the briefcase and dumped a few into her palm, then handed them to Gabe. He grinned and dry-swallowed two, shoving the rest in his pocket. She offered the baggie to me.

“No thanks.”

“I don’t do this all the time, just so you know. But it’s mom’s night out tonight. You understand, yeah? Sometimes I just need to, like, chill.”

“You have children?” Christ, how old was she?

“Just one.”

She sealed the baggie and put it back inside the briefcase. From where I was sitting, I could see that inside were stacks of cash and baggies with pills and powders. She grabbed another baggie of white powder and tapped the cocaine into a little pile on the table. But instead of snorting it, she lit a cigarette. The end glowed red in the dim light. She leaned back in her chair, the wood creaking, and inhaled deeply. Smoke hissed out between her lips.

“How rude of me.” She held the pack out to me. “Would you like one?”

Again, I shook my head. She looked too young to be smoking. A little piece of me wanted to tell her to go home to her parents.