"Okay, that's not good."
Angelica said it around a mouthful of a double cheeseburger.
She stood in the same alleyway as last night, now fully exposed under the afternoon sun. In daylight, the place looked worse—less mysterious, more pathetic. Greasy wrappers clung to the ground like dead leaves. The walls were stained with different shades of grey.
But there was no sign of her car.
Angelica swallowed the bite, suddenly aware that the burger didn't taste nearly as good anymore. She turned slowly, scanning the alley.
Of course, there was no way for her to know the whereabouts of her car. That was the whole point of choosing this place.
With a lazy flick of her wrist, she tossed the half-eaten burger into a trash pile on the ground and wiped her greasy fingers on the front of her lavender pajama top.
Her car had definitely been stolen. There was no doubt about it. But the question was whether she was stupid enough to try getting it back.
