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Luisa waded in to her ankles. The chill shocked her. She’d expected the water to be warmer. Clutching her paddle, she clambered into the camouflage-print raft and took her seat on the bow tube. The other five in the group followed suit, arranging themselves three to a side. No one spoke. A breeze rattled the branches of shrubs nudging the river’s edge. Wispy clouds slid across the nearly full moon. The smuggler stepped into the stern and jerked the mooring line free. The raft drifted forward, wobbling slightly. Luisa tightened her grip on her paddle, breathing deeply into her chest.