_Dead_.

That was the first thought that came into Luisa’s mind when she saw the woman sprawled on the bed.

The room was bathed in an unnatural red light that made it difficult to see. Nevertheless, the dark smears on the woman’s thighs, the crimson handprints on her back, were unmistakable.

_Blood_. Luisa’s second thought.

Truthfully, she couldn’t believe she had worked here twenty years as a cleaner and yet only now encountered death. The Cherry Pop Club was the sleaziest venue on the seediest street in the most flea-ridden part of a town boasting a seventy-four percent crime rate. Luisa surmised that it was exactly this reason that most of the cleaning staff here were men. This place was rank with the allure of death. It was not a place for women who wanted to stay untouched. Or living.

Luisa didn’t know the protocol in situations like this. She figured she’d have to make sure the woman was dead first before calling the police.

_Or alive_, Luisa corrected herself. _She could still be alive_.

Walking resolutely toward the grim mess, Luisa noticed that the woman’s skin was a light olive, with a sheen to it that suggested she routinely slathered it with some sort of moisturizer. By the gentle slope of her waist and the sharpness of her shoulderblades, Luisa guessed she was rather young for a sex worker. Maybe still a teen.

Luisa was now right beside the bed. The woman’s hair covered her face so she couldn’t identify her nor see how old she was. With a rubber-gloved hand, Luisa gingerly swept the woman’s thick mess of hair out of her face. Her cheeks were plump, rosy. Her lips, a mature brick red. _Just shy of nineteen or twenty_, Luisa thought. _A child_.

_Did I see her come in earlier? _She thought back to when her shift started at seven that night.

The bar downstairs had been full to bursting with oily-looking men and tired-looking women dressed mostly in red. Not a single female lip was painted paler than bright magenta. The women’s dresses were styled glamorously but were obviously old. Or cheap. _Thrift-store purchases_, Luisa thought most nights.

Luisa bent closer to the body, beginning to wonder at herself, why she hadn’t called anyone in yet, why she hadn’t fetched the manager immediately. The scene she’d entered had the air of a very distinct form of violence. Not necessarily death, although it did look that way at first glance.

She heaved a grateful sigh when she saw a wisp of the girl’s hair move, disturbed by a gentle exhale of breath.

_Alive_. The girl was alive.

Luisa straightened and left the room. Now she could get the manager.