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Beatrice, and watched her mother walk down the sidewalk with Lizzie in the stroller. She glanced around. The sidewalks were empty; she was pleased to note there were no suspicious characters hanging around. She suddenly wondered what the hell happened to her mom in Paris—and she planned to get to the bottom of it.

Chapter 10
    Beatrice had it all under control. Annie’s boys were off to school, Mike was off to work, and Elizabeth was napping in her portable crib in Annie’s living room. She rinsed off the last of the Chamovitzes’ breakfast dishes and was thinking about going home as soon as Elizabeth awakened when Annie walked in the door.
    “The boys in school?” Annie said immediately to Beatrice when she saw her standing at the sink.
    “Well, how do to you, too,” Beatrice said.
    “Oh, I’m sorry, Bea,” Annie said and dropped her bag on the table. “I’m a bit off this morning.”
    When Annie dropped the bag, Beatrice saw her tremble.
    “Here now,” Beatrice said, pulling out a chair and gently guiding Annie to it. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
    Annie looked directly into her eyes and smirked.
    “Okay, okay, the irony’s not lost on me. Me and my ghosts,” Beatrice said.
    “Oh God, my neck feels like a tightrope. Maybe I’m getting a headache.”
    “Coffee?” Beatrice said, noticing the circles around Annie’s dark eyes.
    “I was not thinking.”
    “I know. You look like hell.”
    “Thanks, Bea,” she said, taking the full hot cup from Beatrice’s hands. “I’ve been up since about three.”
    “What on earth is going on?”
    “Another murder,” Annie said hoarsely.
    Beatrice clutched her chest and sat down. “Who?” she finally said, fingering her disheveled sweater.
    “I don’t know yet.”
    “What do you know?”
    “I know . . . some incredibly sick and scary stuff.”
    Just then a baby’s cry interrupted them.
    Beatrice rushed to her granddaughter, pulled her from the crib, and sat down on the rocking chair. “Hey, Lizzie. Granny’s here.”
    Beatrice felt her only grandchild’s weight on her, and she loved the warmth of it. The tenderness and reverence. Maybe it was true that being a grandparent was better than being a parent. She appreciated each step of Elizabeth’s life—in a way that she couldn’t have done as a young mom herself. When you were in the thick of it, it just wasn’t easy. Still, there were moments she would never forget with Vera, and sometimes she wished she could go back and freeze those moments. Sometimes she looked at Elizabeth and remembered those days with a startling freshness.
    Poor Annie. Now that both boys were in school all day, she had a whole new set of worries. The local Weekly Religious Education program was just one of those worries that Annie had expressed to Beatrice. It was “Bible” education given by the local church—really they were proselytizing. If it were an “education,” she’d have no problem with it. But her two Jewish boys had no reason to attend Bible studies at the church. It was just beginning, Beatrice feared.
    Annie sipped her coffee and watched Beatrice rock Elizabeth on the well-worn glider rocker.
    “So?” Beatrice finally said. “Are you going to make me wait and read it in the paper?”
    “Another young woman. Arms were cut off. There was a white powder all over the place. The CDC came. Thought it was anthrax, but it wasn’t. It was just a very fine specialty flour.”
    “Jesus. You did have quite a morning.” Beatrice took a deep breath. Was this really happening in her sleepy little town?
    “A couple more things, Bea.”
    “Yes?” Did she want to hear more?
    “She had those same markings. And she was a redhead.”
    “You don’t say,” Beatrice said, eyes widening. “Are we talking serial killer, then?”
    “It looks like it. And there’s another interesting piece to it,” Annie said, getting up to fix herself a bowl of cereal.
    “God, what else could there be?” Beatrice