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“I do. That’s why you called? You need a translator?”
“You’re on the list,” he said, holding up a laminated sheet of paper. “Regular one is on vacation, another one is on maternity leave, and the backup is working a case in Topanga. Apparently you’re pricey, but the chief got the okay.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t actually work for you guys.”
“You do today, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll tell the chief you’re here. He wants to see you first.”
She felt herself relax a little. Translating wasn’t that hard of a gig, and maybe she’d be done in time to eat dinner with Helen while it was still warm, before the kids went to bed, before she had to drive home alone in the dark with trembling hands and shuddering breaths, trying to process whatever case she’d just been investigating, before she got to be a normal person again.
She followed Woodward to the closed office door and squinted at the nameplate.
Deputy Chief M. Worth.
A coincidence, she told herself. There was no way it was the same Worth who had tried to lure her from the CIA to the Metro Police Department with a promotion she didn’t deserve.
Woodward knocked twice and opened the door without waiting. He stuck his head in. “She’s here.” He pushed the door all the way open, and Annie walked in.
“Surprise!” Mason Worth waved his hands in the air and chuckled. His cheeks were ruddy, and Annie couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or some health issue.
“It certainly is,” she said, forcing herself to smile through her shock and trying to scrape together some professionalism. “A real surprise. Truly.”
Worth stuck his hand out over the desk, and she reached out to shake it. He held it for a beat longer than he needed to. Behind her, Woodward cleared his throat.
“I’ve been out here for almost six months,” Worth said. “I couldn’t pass up such an opportunity. You either, apparently.”
“I’m actually going to school,” Annie said, still forcing her smile. She glanced back at Woodward, who was looking down at his shoes.
“Fate has brought us together, it seems.” Worth grinned, showing teeth yellowed from years of nicotine.
“I, uh, hear you need a translator. Should I be caught up on the case?”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” Worth said. “We just don’t know what he’s saying.”
“Okay. Well, where is he?”
“Interview Two. Woodward will show you. You did such a good job for us last time, by the way. Real nice work.”
Annie froze. That had been on a different floor in a different division. Worth was unnerving her. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Good to see you again, Annie.”
“Sure,” she said. “Uh, you too, sir.”
“Didn’t realize you were old friends,” Woodward said as he shut the door.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “Me either.”
* * *
By the time she got to Helen’s house, everyone was already upstairs and getting ready for bed, from the sound of it.
Helen had left a plate for her in the kitchen. It was covered in foil in the center of the table with a napkin on top that hadAnniewritten in bright blue marker. She hung her jacket and bag over the back of a chair and sat down. She pulled the plate toward her and peeled back the foil, revealing barbecue chicken, an ear of white corn—it seemed late in the season, but somehow there was always fresh produce in this state—and a little pile of mashed potatoes. She put her finger in the mash and, scooping up a blob, stuck it in her mouth.
She reached back into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the business card Worth had given her on her way out. On the back, he’d written his home phone number.
She liked law enforcement; she really did. It was a good fit for her, except for this. No matter what the office, no matter what the job, there was always at least one man who made it uncomfortable. Who wanted to take her out for dinner and drinks. Who slipped her his phone number. Who put his handon the wall next to her head and leaned in. It was never just a job, and she’d never just be a cop or an agent. She would always be a woman first.
She crumpled up the business card and threw it at the garbage. It hit the rim, bounced off the wall, and rolled under the refrigerator.
