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Annie nodded in agreement.

“I don’t like cases involving children, and I especially don’t like when they turn out like this one did.”

Annie hadn’t seen the body or been present for the retrieval. She’d never even left Parker Center. She had been there to gather intelligence, to sort the information, and then snap the pieces together like a puzzle into something recognizable. She didn’t usually see the grisly details the cops witnessed. And the one time she had, she hoped would be her last.

“I learned how to make this drink when I was in Leningrad,” Annie said. “It had fresh grapes and brown sugar. I’ll make us a couple. Then maybe we can start over?”

Helen regarded her for a moment and then opened a cabinet, pulling out a plastic container of brown sugar. From the refrigerator, she pulled out a bag of grapes. Then she dug aroundin the cupboard next to the pantry and pulled out a cocktail set and two glasses. “Show me how you make it,” she said. “I like learning new drinks.”

“Okay.” If this were an interrogation, Annie would speak softly, reach out, and touch her wrist. Make lots of eye contact. But Annie didn’t want to con Helen into liking her, and she didn’t want to lull her with lies. She just wanted to get to know her better so that her new life in Los Angeles had a chance of working out.

It was easy to convince herself she was making good choices, living a life of justice when she clipped a government badge to her chest every morning, but here she was, doing the same work for the same people, and she felt like the escort Helen had thought her to be. She felt like trash.

But when she was with Helen, she felt okay. When Helen looked at her, she saw the person Annie wanted to be.

Or at least she had before today.

Annie felt her face grow hot. She swallowed, then said, “First, you muddle the grapes.”

Helen dropped four grapes into each glass.

“Now add the sugar and mush it into the grapes.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Then add the vodka and ice. I like to stir it up, then add a splash of soda.”

“I have Seven-Up,” Helen said. “Will that work?”

“Yeah.”

Helen finished mixing the drinks and handed one to Annie. She took a drink from her own glass and sputtered. “Stiff,” she said.

“Well,” Annie said, “Russia is cold.”

“You could tell me about what it was like, if you want.”

Annie nodded. “Okay.”

Chapter 8

The social worker came topick up the baby a week before Thanksgiving. From one perspective, a baby reunited with his birth mother in time for the holidays seemed like a happy ending. But from what Helen had told Annie about Zach’s mother, it was only a matter of time before she slipped up again. She lost him the first time after she left him in a mall bathroom soon after he was born while she went to get high. Now, she was sober and recently discharged from a halfway house. It wasn’t enough to fix things, according to Helen, but the State of California usually sided with the mother. So until she screwed up again, Zach was going back to her.

Annie was out when the social worker arrived. She’d been spending a lot of time on campus because the end of the quarter was getting close and because Helen was packing up Zach’s things. Being in the house—even being near the house—was breaking her heart.

She spent Thursday afternoon standing in line at the registrar’s office, signing up for next quarter’s classes. She didn’t want to spend Friday on campus because more often than not, she got paged on Fridays. Using her was probably cheaper than weekend overtime, and Friday evenings usually bled into Saturday mornings.

She signed up for three classes easily. But her fourth choice was already full. When she asked what other classes were available in that time slot, the woman at the window gave her two options. One of them was Helen’s class.

She signed up for it, even though she worried it was a bad idea. But Annie had never let bad ideas stop her before.

When she got back to the house, she was greeted by Sal, Bruce’s sister. When Annie had met her at Ashley’s birthday party, the woman had been polite, friendly, and chatty, but now her round cheeks were flushed and her short, dirty-blonde hair looked like she had just crawled out of bed.

“Hey, kiddo,” Sal said when she spied Annie slipping into the front hall. Sal called everyonekiddoregardless of their age.

“Hi,” she said.

“Helen called me to come take the kids for the night.”

“It’s Thursday. Don’t they have school tomorrow?”

Sal grimaced. “You haven’t seen her since they took Zach away.”