AllFreeNovel
Share Us
* * *
Annie dressed like she was going to class, like she was going undercover to any campus in Leningrad. She dressed like she was trying to look young. She put on a dress her grandma had given her that had a white scoop neck and was patterned with big pink roses. She slipped on her white sneakers. She put her hair up in a ponytail with a pink scrunchie, applied foundation and concealer, and added a hint of pink blush.
The social worker was coming at nine, so at ten after, she went into the kitchen with her backpack on. She heard voices in the living room, then Helen called out, “Annie?”
She pasted a smile on her face and joined the two women.
“Hi, Professor,” she said.
The social worker was a friendly looking woman around Helen’s age. She had a pad of paper on her lap. Zach was on the floor on a blanket, lying on his tummy and pushing himself up on his arms.
“Annie, this is Miss Oliver,” Helen said, “Zach’s social worker.”
“How do you do, ma’am?”
“It’s nice to meet you, Annie.”
“Do you have a few minutes to join us?” Helen asked.
“Sure.” She let her backpack slip down onto the rug. She took the chair by the window and looked down at the baby, then at Helen, then back to Miss Oliver.
“How long have you lived here now?” Miss Oliver asked.
“Oh, six…seven weeks, maybe? I just started this quarter at UCLA. I’m getting my master’s.”
“Do you like it here?” Miss Oliver asked.
“I do,” Annie said. “It’s better than a dorm, and I’m out back, so I’m out of the way.” She looked at Helen, who nodded once. “Professor Everton is really nice.”
“Where were you before you came out here for school, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Ohio,” Annie said. “And before that, I was in Georgetown in DC.”
“Zach really likes her,” Helen said. “Took right to her.”
“Well, he seems to be doing really well here,” Miss Oliver said. “We’ll schedule another visit next month and then talk about the trial.”
Helen stood up to see her out. “Thank you for coming.”
When she returned, Annie picked up the baby. “What trial?”
“Zach’s mother is getting out of rehab,” Helen said. “But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there, hmm?”
* * *
The pager.
She almost didn’t hear it. She was on the freeway with the radio turned up, listening to the same ten songs every hour. She turned the volume all the way down and dug around in her bag with one hand, trying to hold the car steady with the other. “Shit! Are they going to call me every damn week?”
It had only been nine days, but still. How incompetent was law enforcement in Los Angeles that they had to keep calling in a semiretired twentysomething woman? It made her worry for the state of California.
She’d gone to the public library on Manchester Avenue the other day and looked upTimesarticles about the riots and the city’s response. The LAPD, the sheriff’s department, and the National Guard had all been called up. Apparently, the LAPD had activated most of their reserve officers and were keepingthem active while so many of their regular cops were on suspension pending investigation.
She’d read that someone died in Los Angeles County every ten minutes.
If she actually cared about helping, if she cared about anything other than making money and keeping Frank Clifton off her back, she’d tell someone that she’d be a lot more help if they let her go to the crime scenes. If they’d call her before they messed everything up and had no other choice. But being forced into this situation meant she didn’t care. About the only thing she could manage was her own survival. Anything left over went to Helen and her kids.
She stopped at the 7-Eleven a few blocks from home and dropped a quarter into the pay phone. She didn’t want to make this call standing in the kitchen where everyone could hear and wonder what the hell she was up to.
