Chapter Seventeen
Manny dumped an envelope of white powder into the cup of orange juice and stirred it in.
Then he set the cup on the breakfast tray I had already prepared for Gina.
Sloan had vetoed the use of any forks or knives for Gina, so I had been forced to get creative with her menus. That morning I had made her a fried egg sandwich and opened a carton of yogurt. I had stuck a plastic spoon in it. Sloan wasn’t likely to see any harm in that. It hardly qualified as an assault weapon. The orange juice was in a paper cup. I suppose she might have tried to clobber one of us with the breakfast tray.
“It’s a little cloudy,” Manny said, “but there is enough pulp in the juice to hide that. There is no taste to speak of. Half an hour from now, she should be out like a light. That will ma
