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“Parlate Italiano?” She went on in several languages, finishing in Russian. “I give up. You’re the language student.”
    Victoria tried Hebrew and perceived a flicker of interest. She then switched to Arabic. The girl’s eyes widened slightly.
    Gracie’s calm voice inquired, “Shouldn’t we try finding someone who might know more than a few words? Wouldn’t the police know where to find an interpreter?”
    “Hold on, I’m not ready to call anyone. Not just yet.”
    All the while, Gracie prattled on in her soothing grandmother’s voice. “What should we think about you, eh? Where are you from? Victoria thinks you’re an Arab girl, but dressed like that? No, no. I think maybe somewhere else. For right now, you are una misterio. But you’ve come to the right place. Our Victoria,” she said very slowly, pointing Victoria’s way, “is very good at solving mysteries. The best. Don’t worry, we’ll figure you out.”
    The girl’s gaze followed Gracie’s finger to Victoria.
    “Think she’s got any ID?” Victoria wondered out loud as she pulled her own license from her wallet and handed it to the girl. “Do you have one?”
    She accepted it cautiously, an inquisitive finger tracing the outline of Victoria’s face. Glancing upward, she seemed confused. Her hands trembled slightly as she returned it.
    “Gracie, do you see this?”
    “Maybe she doesn’t recognize you with your glasses on.”
    Gracie grabbed another photo from Victoria’s desk, which showed Victoria and Gracie standing next to a distinguished, goateed older man in a grey silk suit, and handed it to the girl.
    “Here, try this one, chiquina.” The girl pointed to the smiling image and moved her eyes to the older woman’s face. “That’s it! Come on now, say something,” Gracie coaxed.
    She handed the photo back, her face still expressionless.
    “Show her something else,” Victoria suggested. “Something common.”
    It was at that moment, when Gracie showed her a green felt-tip pen and then her sunglasses that Victoria’s heart sank. She’d obviously never laid eyes on such things before. The young woman accepted the items with a virginal curiosity. The glasses were clearly her favorite. She held them up to her face, amazement animating her face as she scrutinized the dark lenses.
    Gracie’s patience was running out. “So now what?”
    “See if she’s hungry.”
    Leaving the office, Gracie soon returned with the tin of butter cookies she kept squirreled away in her desk drawer. She held one out to the girl. When she didn’t take it, Gracie waved the cookie in the air. “Cookies. You like them, don’t you? Everyone does. Try one; they’re pretty good. Not as good as mine, but…” Seeing that the girl was unconvinced, she took a bite. Then the girl took one, skimming the rock sugar on top with her tongue, and closing her eyes as she chewed. Gracie quietly asked, “Vicki, what do you think?”
    “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
    “Are you ready to call the police yet?
    “Nope.” Victoria fished her cell phone out of her purse. “I’m calling Elias.” She left her office for the parking lot outside the back door, as she did when she needed privacy. She glanced at her watch, hoping she would find Elias at home in the middle of the day, and was rewarded by the cheerfulness in the rich voice that answered.
    “Well, there you are!” he greeted her. “Why haven’t we heard from you? Your aunt is at the market.”
    “Uncle,” she blurted, “I need your opinion on something.”
    “Of course. Is everything all right?”
    “Earlier today, someone left a girl here.”
    “A girl?”
    “Well, not really a girl. She’s maybe twenty or so…”
    “What’s so difficult about that?” he asked. “She’s of legal age. Who dropped her off?”
    “That’s the strange part. It was a coyote,” Victoria replied, with emphasis on the “yo”—an uncharacteristic slip from her perfected English.
    “Why would he