The pizza comes. We sit down to eat. Garfield has a little plate for himself, too, where Eli discreetly pushes his crusts.
Then, from outside the window, light flashes into the room. “Mommy!” Eli jumps down from his chair. “That phorogopher’shere again!”
“Photographer,” Mia corrects. “And I think that’s just the light from a blowtorch, munchkin. You know there’s always someroad work around here.”
My instincts kick in. I feel that prickling at the back of my neck again.
“I forgot something in the car,” I tell them. “I’ll be right back.”
Mia tries to say something, but I’m already off.
I fly down those stairs. Like a bolt of f*****g lightning, I rush down into the street.
No trench coat. No crooked tie. Just a dark pullover and equally dark pants, with a camera slung
