He went around and sat down behind his desk, suddenly conscious of the power he wielded. She had to know she was in the wrong, that he could extract any price he named. Two hundred and fifty-seven miles on a brand-new car? He wondered if she’d set it up that way. Maybe she’d had her eye on him at the same time he’d had his eye on her. She stared at him with interest, apparently undismayed by his rage or the fact that he was ordering her around.

She extracted a pack of cigarettes from her purse. Ever the gentleman, he took out his lighter and fanned the striker. She leaned across the desk, allowing him a glimpse of the swell of her breasts as she accepted his light. There was a bruise on her chin and he knew what that was about. She reclaimed her seat and crossed her legs. He glanced at Kathy, visible in the outer office beyond his glass-enclosed cube. She was watching the back of Violet’s head with her mother’s same spiteful stare, constructing new and better ways to feel superior. When Kathy caught him looking at her, she got up and walked to the water cooler. Fourteen, and she was already as rigid, nasty-minded, and prissy as her mom. She’d taken out a piece of pink notepaper and it sat squarely in the middle of her desk. He could see the heavy black writing on it even at that distance, an angry-looking scrawl that slanted across the page.

He picked up a pencil and tapped on his desk while he rearranged his thoughts. He had no idea how he should play it, but he loved feeling in command. “So what are we going to do about this, Mrs. Sullivan?”

Her smile was slow, smoke drifting from her lips as though she was smoldering at the core. “Well, Mr. Cramer, Sweetie, I can make a suggestion, but I’m not sure you want to talk about it here. Buy me a drink and I’m certain we can work something out.”