I could feel a blush heating my cheeks, but I kept my chin up, met her eyes. “Maybe I’m trying to see if you have any shame.”

That made her tilt her head, her eyes gone sharp and bright, like a bird catching a glimpse of something shiny.

“I really don’t. And I shouldn’t,” she said. She stepped in just a little closer, but she wasn’t trying to intimidate me, and it wasn’t sexual. It was almost confiding, and I had the sense that whatever she said next, it would be true. “People do awful things, Amy. They have to pay for them. They want to pay, even. It’s the only thing that will give them any peace. I make them pay me specifically, but it gets the job done. I’m practically a fuckin’ priest. Why wouldn’t Luca know? I’m not ashamed.” She gave me that quirky, one-sided smile. “He has no idea that you’re a client, though. I would think, since he’s friendsies with that stepchild of yours, you’d prefer that.”

I felt my lips tighten. “Of course I would.”

I didn’t want Luca to think of me as anything but Maddy’s nice Monster. I found myself peering at Char’s porch through the azaleas again. I couldn’t help it.

Roux sighed and relented. “Let’s go to the back patio. The privacy fence will live up to its name.”

I followed her inside. Once again my eyes took a moment to adjust. It was a summery Florida fall day, but the gray blanket and low ceilings made this room instantly gloomy. The windows on the other side were bare of blinds or curtains, but between the screened-in porch, the trees, and the tall privacy fence, they didn’t let in much natural light.

Luca was on the sofa wearing what looked like pajama pants with a T-shirt and a pair of bulky headphones. His long dark hair was still sleep-snarled. He was hunched forward toward the coffee table, tapping frantically at the keys of a shiny black laptop. On the screen a little soldier ran across a weird landscape, shooting monstrous bug things. Typical teenager. His mother had stepped onto the porch for three minutes and already he’d abandoned math or history for pixel murder. He looked up when we came back in, and his soldier got fragged.

“Crap!” he said, I thought because he was busted gaming during school hours, but he grinned and added. “You got me killed!”

“My bad,” Roux said.

Luca pushed the headset down around his neck, looking eagerly back and forth between us. “Hey, Ms. Whey. So is it worked out?”

I blinked, confused. Roux stepped in smoothly.

“There’s not a beginner scuba class scheduled until next month,” Roux said, and that was true. She must have checked the website. His face fell, but she wasn’t done. “Amy’s going to teach you herself. One-on-one. No waiting.”

“Really?” Luca said, which was exactly what I was thinking. Was she serious? It was so presumptuous, as if my time and expertise were in a bundle with my nana’s money, and it all belonged to her. But Luca was looking at me, hopeful as a Labrador. I couldn’t help but like Luca, especially when his cool reserve broke and he acted like the kid he was. “When do we start?”

I smiled, plastic. “We’re talking about it.”

“We’re going to go sit on the patio,” Roux said, giving his hair a fond tug as she passed.

“So you can get back to your schoolwork,” I said, fixing him with universal mom eye. I couldn’t help it. He laughed and pulled the headset on again, restarting his game.

Roux said, “He will. Don’t worry.” She paused then and said, as if it had only just occurred to her, “Where’s your baby?”

“Lisa Fenton’s watching him,” I said.

I hadn’t asked Char. I felt bad enough about the “headache.” But Oliver made me soft, and I also didn’t want him getting baby-whispered again. Not to mention the field trip I had planned as soon as Roux and I were done. I was going back to Waverly Place. My old house. That intersection. I couldn’t take Oliver to that neighborhood, that road. It was too soaked in bad history.

“I’ll grab us some water,” Roux said.

She went past the stairs into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Luca. He was deep into his game. I stayed where I was, searching the room with my eyes, trying to figure out what was Roux and what was rented.

I could pick out bits of her, her tastes so expensive that anything hers practically glowed in this room. A spectacular raw-silk dressing gown draped over the sofa. The computer Luca was using. It was big for a laptop, gleaming new, with a red dragon logo on the back of it. Did Roux use it as well as Luca? If I had ten minutes alone with it—

“Come on,” Roux said, startling me.

I hadn’t heard her bare feet padding in. She held up two curvy glass bottles of sparkling water with a French name. Nothing I’d ever heard of. Nothing I could pronounce. She was treating this meet as if it were a social call. I didn’t want to sip a refreshing beverage, cozied up with Roux to discuss how she could best rob me like we were besties organizing a bake sale. I took the water anyway, made myself smile.

Only moments ago she’d spoken to me about being like a priest. I’d had the sense that for the first time I was face-to-face with Roux. Not some character she was playing to keep me off balance. The real thing. I wanted to see more of her. Needed to, if I was going to beat her. I followed her out onto the small screened porch.

Roux sat down on the love seat. It was part of a cheap set of outdoor furniture, made of plastic formed to mimic woodgrain, topped by mildewed cushions in a faded tropical print. I stayed standing, my unopened water in my hand.

She said, “This is the last real conversation we’ll have until it’s time for you to transfer the money.”

“You’re still worried I’m going to try to record you?” It occurred to me that she could be recording, and I should have thought of that already. Trying to think like her—like a criminal—was new. I needed to learn faster. I couldn’t stay the fox in this hunt, let her have all the dogs and guns and horses. I gave her a tight smile. “What if I am? There could be a carful of FBI men a mile away with a directional mike pointed right at you.”

She dismissed that with a wave. “Please. No way feds stepped in on this small-time BS that fast. It would be the local yokels. I know what they use here, and you’re not wearing it. Not in those pants. I think you came to seal our deal, and I’m glad. It’s the best choice. For you as well as me.”

“For me?” I asked, and a little outrage leaked into my voice. I couldn’t help it.

She nodded, serious, and this was her again. Roux. Not playing. Talking to me as if I were an equal. “I’ve seen your financial records, Amy. You blew half your wad setting up a foundation to pay off that poor schmo who went to prison for you. But it didn’t fix you, did it?” She looked me right in the eye, speaking with conviction. “People think they can buy absolution at their leisure, or on someone else’s dime. It doesn’t work like that. You have to pay the universe.”

My eyes narrowed. “You aren’t the universe.”

“I’m what the universe sent,” she said, almost offhand, but I had the feeling it was the most honest thing she’d ever said to me. She twisted the cap off her water.

Was this how she justified herself? But she had no idea how I’d felt or what I’d done, trying to pay for my mistakes. This was crap, and I told her so. “I paid off Tig’s mortgage because I owed him. I don’t owe you.”

“No. You gave him exactly what you felt comfortable giving, anonymously, in the way that suited you best,” she said, and there was an edge of sorrow to it. It was as if she felt bad for me, but it didn’t change what she had to do. She took a sip of water and then set the bottle down. “You enjoyed paying off his mortgage. It made you feel good. But this? This hurts. This feels unfair and random. That’s the kind of paying the universe demands.”

I had to ask. “And what’s the universe going to do to you?”

She chuckled, and her walls came up. “Let’s stay on topic.”

“I’m not that obedient,” I said. It felt good, to dig at her, trying to keep her real face in the room. “Seriously, I want to know. What do you think the universe will do to you for all the bad you’re doing to me right now?”

She stopped smiling then, taking it seriously. Her eyes on me were very cool. “I’ve prepaid, bitch,” she said, and then she brushed her hands together briskly, done with honesty and metaphysics both. I could tell that she believed it, though, that she had prepaid. Good. It hinted at a darkness in her own past. That darkness, her own worst thing, was what I had to find. “Sit. Let’s get down to it.”

A puff of mildewed air escaped as I took the sagging chair catty-corner to her. I set my unopened water down on the low table so I could cross my arms. I needed to curl my body into a smaller shape, to feel my own warmth.