Even in the chill, Violet blushed. “I can have my aunt call you.” She just wasn’t going to give this up, was she?
Bowser limped to the kitchen and scratched at the cupboard beneath the sink.
I moved past one small bathroom with a stained sink, blue toilet, and shower stall to the bedroom, which held a bed and a partially melted plastic laundry basket of teen clothes. Pictures lined the one dresser. One was with a younger Violet and a woman who looked like her, which stood next to a wedding picture of a young couple taken at least sixty years ago. Must’ve been the great-aunt. “Your aunt isn’t here, is she?”
Violet looked at the pictures. “No.”
Unopened mail was stacked neatly next to the pictures, and even from my position, I could see several envelopes from the government. “Social security checks?”
“Yeah.” Violet looked at them. “You’re my lawyer and can’t tell on me, right?”
“That’s correct.” Pretty much, anyway. If I thought she was in danger, I had a duty to report it. My stomach cramped.
She swallowed. “Aunt Mays died three months ago, and the church took care of her burial. She went to one on the other side of Spokane. I told everyone I was going to live with my aunt and uncle in Billings, but I don’t have family.” She sighed. “I didn’t know what to do with the social security checks. It’s illegal to cash them, but I couldn’t send them back because I think she got money for having me, and I didn’t want anybody to know she was gone.”
My heart broke for her. I reached out to flip on the light.
“No power,” she confirmed. “I have a job but it doesn’t pay a lot. I’m kinda out of money until my next paycheck.”
Somebody pounded on the outside door, and we both jumped.
“Violet? Open the door. I know you’re in there,” a man bellowed.
“Who is that?” I whispered.
She paled even more but patted my shoulder. “It’s just the manager. Stay here, and I’ll handle him.” She walked down the ugly faded blue shag carpet and opened the door. “I’m getting the rent, Crackle. I told you I would.”
I hurried after her. She shouldn’t have to worry about rent.
“I told you how you could work off that rent.” Crackle’s voice came in loud and clear. “Either you let me in and do what you need to do, or I’m callin’ the fuckin’ state on you. I know your aunt ain’t here. So it’s my dick or the foster care. I’ll make it good for you.”
Fire roared through my head. My eyes widened, and I grabbed the door and yanked it open, shoving Violet behind me with my hip.
Crackle was around forty with thick arms and a beer gut that lost to gravity over his dirty pants. His curly hair was greasy, his beard crusted with food, and his eyes beady. He was a cockroach of a man. “Who the fuck are you, bitch?”
I reared up. “I’m her lawyer and the bitch who’s going to call the police and report you for trying to extort sex from a minor.” My ears rang as my temper spiraled into the ozone layer. I clutched my purse closer to my side in case I needed the gun. Shooting this asshole would be a gift to society.
“Bullshit.” He clocked me on the side of the head, and I flew back, smashing onto the coffee table and rolling to the ground. Pain blew through my head and my vision blurred. My ribs screamed.
He laughed and pushed Violet out of the way. “I guess it’ll be the three of us.”
I was smart, and often I was cool-headed. But when I hit the floor, I lost my fucking mind. Rolling up, I ducked my head and rushed forward, hitting him so hard in the gut that we both flew through the doorway. My skull might’ve exploded from the impact. His back and shoulders hit the wall on the opposite side and he yelled, both of us going down. He swung out, and I crab-walked back, scrambling for the gun in my purse.
The dog bounded out of the apartment and bit Crackle’s pant leg, growling and snarling.
Crackle kicked the dog and the animal rolled over, smashing into the railing of the fake balcony and emitting a doggy cry of pain.
Panic and fury swirled through me as I took advantage of his distraction and forced myself to stand, finally clamping onto my gun. My hand shook so wildly I had to use both, pointing the barrel at his head and trying to regain my breath, my entire body hurting.
His eyes bugged out, and his face turned an ugly red as he pushed a beefy hand on the wall and stood. “You won’t hurt me.”
I set my stance. “You’ve got that wrong, dickhead.”
Violet hovered in the doorway, her face pale, terrified tears on her bottom lids.
I kept my gaze on Crackle. “Violet? Call 9-1-1.”
She hesitated.
