Ana frowned. “I’m not God. You’re lucky I found her in the first place. It’s a huge city.”
“That it is,” Kika said, sliding her phone back into her coat’s pocket. “We’ll be picking her up in a few hours. Don’t tell your boss, but be there for the takedown. I’ll let you know exactly what time to meet us.”
“I’m a consultant, remember?”
“You won’t have to lift a finger. I just want to feel reassured. None of my people have ever dealt with a bloodsucker. We’ll have the equipment, but nothing beats experience.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be hanging out with you in public,” Ana said.
“Come, come. You already took the paycheck.”
Ana felt herself blushing as she remembered that. Yeah, she’d taken the money. It was a good amount of money and she needed it if she was going to get herself and her kid out of Mexico City. She dearly wanted out. Out of her life, out of her uniform, and out of this bitch of a country.
“I took half,” Ana said, wanting to be precise.
“If you want the other half you should show up,” Kika said. “Don’t look so glum. Have a cigarette.” Kika took out her cigarette case and opened it, offering it to Ana.
Ana stared at the cigarettes, but shook her head. “I’m trying to quit.”
“I’d think you’d be jumping over another chance to kill a couple of vampires,” Kika said, snapping the case shut and tossing it back in her purse. “It sounds like the stuff to get the blood running.”
“You’ve never been near them, have you?”
“Can’t say I have. But it sounds fun.”
“You have no idea what you are talking about,” Ana muttered.
“Tell me then.” The woman scooted forward, smiling.
“Tell you what?”
“What it’s like to kill them.”
“I don’t know. What’s it like killing people?” Ana shot back.
“What makes you think I kill people?” Kika asked.
“What’s your line of work, then?”
Kika shrugged. “Oh, I’m more of a personal assistant. Keep tabs on the money. Recruiting security. Asset collection. Mostly.”
“What did you do before this?”
“How come we are talking about me and not you?” Kika asked, chuckling. “You’re trying to turn the tables on me, Detective, but you’re the one with an interesting story.”
“I’m curious about who I’m working with.”
“You mean you haven’t looked me up in your police databases?”
Ana had looked for the woman in red, but she’d gotten no hits. Could be she was new or could be she was simply smart. The girl held her cigarette in midair and blew a ring of smoke.
“You have a Rita Hayworth vibe,” Ana said. “I know your name’s not Kika, so who are you modeling yourself after?”
“It’s a diminutive of Francisca. It means ‘free woman.’”
“You weren’t free before.”
“Not quite.”
Ana sipped her coffee and nodded. She carefully unwrapped her sandwich and began eating it. “Killing vampires is hard. They’re tough, they’re resistant, and they won’t hesitate to bite off your head. But that doesn’t make it fun,” she said. “I joined an operative. It was not supposed to be big, we were serving as backup for the folks in the Secretariat of National Defense. That’s where most of my kills come from. It wasn’t glamorous. We had twenty-two dead people, total, including nine of our own. I killed three vampires that night. I joined a second operative as backup a few months later. Killed another two vampires. And then I was done with that.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I thought Mexico City would be better.” Ana wrapped the remains of her sandwich and placed her hands on top of it.
Kika was still smoking, the ash falling upon the table. “I’d still like to kill one,” Kika said, dropping the cigarette to the floor and smashing it under the heel of a red shoe. “Get some sleep. We’ll be seeing each other in a little while.”
The younger woman rose but paused for a moment, frowning. “Who’s Rita Hayworth?” she asked.
“She was an actress. Used to dance,” Ana said.
“All right,” Kika said. “See you around.”
Ana looked down. The cigarette on the floor bore the imprint of Kika’s lipstick. She grabbed her sandwich and exited the eatery.
*
She was up early and made an effort to cook eggs and quesadillas for Marisol. Her daughter seemed startled by the sight of Ana in the kitchen.
“Marisol, sit down, have a bite,” Ana said, setting a plate on the narrow plastic table where they had all their meals. They had no proper dining room.
“Something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong,” Ana said. “I make breakfast and something’s got to be wrong?”
Marisol shrugged. Ana supposed that she had been skimping on the cooking lately, although she did work a lot of nights. It was a hectic schedule. They sat down and ate quietly. Her daughter checked her phone constantly.
“I’ve thought about the Acapulco thing and I don’t think it’s a good idea, but we should go see your aunt soon. You know, a trip to Zacatecas. And I was thinking maybe, after that, Cuba.”