“I’ll see you again, Miss Lopez,” called Palmer.

Yes, thought Rachel. Me or someone like me, for sure.

In the duplex, Nardine’s grandmother, tired and light of bone, offered Rachel some iced tea. Rachel declined. The grandmother left Rachel in the living room in the company of Nardine and her two children, a six-year-old girl she was just now getting acquainted with and an eight-year-old boy. She was closer to the boy because she had spent more time with him than she had with the girl. Nardine had known her daughter for only a month before going off to do her time.

The children sat on a shag carpet before a television set, playing PS2. There were snack wrappers strewn around them, along with empty bottles of orange soda and Sierra Mist. The girl had her hand in a tube of Pringles now. Her other hand worked a controller. The kids were playing a game involving criminals, prostitutes, and guns. Points were given for shooting a police officer. The sound track to the game included music from Scarface.

“It’s sunny out,” said Rachel, saying it to Nardine as if she were giving her some news. The curtains had been drawn, and it was dark in the room.

“They don’t wanna go outside,” said Nardine, reading Rachel’s implication correctly. “They just wanna play that game.”

Rachel nodded, not pushing the issue, knowing it would do no good. It wasn’t her job to raise other people’s kids. Nardine didn’t look like she had seen much daylight herself.

“How’s the job search going?”

“It’s hard.”

“I know it is. But you still have to do it.”

“I went up to the Mac Donald’s like you told me to. Saw that manager, Mr. Andrews?”

“And?”

“They ain’t have but one shift open. I can’t work those morning hours. Kids be goin’ back to school next month, and I need to be here to see them off. That’s important, right?”