Emily got in line and, when it was her turn, ordered three iced lattes and a dozen cider donut holes. Her mouth watered as she watched the clerk dust the donut holes with cinnamon-sugar and scoop them into a bag. She paid, and then waited off to the side. Minutes later, Ana put three tall lidded cups into a cardboard carrier and set them on the counter. “Emily,” she called out.

“Ana?” Emily said, approaching the counter. When Ana looked at her, Emily waved and mouthed, Can we talk? Ana’s eyes flickered with recognition and quickly morphed into a blank stare, like a wall had gone up.

Emily took the coffees. Louder, she said, “Excuse me, Ana?”

Ana turned her back to Emily, scooped beans into the grinder, and switched it on.

Emily raised her voice. “Ana? Remember me? I was in Sunday night right before closing? A man ran into me and spilled his coffee?”

The bean grinder shut off and Ana turned to face Emily, avoiding eye contact. “Sorry. I no remember,” she mumbled, barely audible.

“You were here,” Emily said. “I’m sure it was you.” The clerk at the nearest register stared at Emily. Emily smiled. She lowered her voice and pointed to Ana’s macaroni bracelet. “You were wearing that bracelet. I thought it was so sweet.”

Ana put her hand behind her back.

“You have a daughter?” Emily asked.

“Sobrina.” Ana whispered the word. Niece.

“You recognize me. I know you do. I wouldn’t be here bothering you, really I wouldn’t, if it weren’t important.” When Ana didn’t respond, Emily pressed. “Do you remember the man that ran into me a few nights ago, just before closing? The police came in and asked about him?”

Ana took a step back, bumping into the counter behind her. Her eyes widened. Under her breath, she said, “Please. Go. Away.”

Emily said, “I just want to know what you remember about the man. I was so upset and my memory’s all confused. It turns out that it matters. A lot. Maybe the police—”

Ana squeezed her eyes shut. That’s when Emily realized Ana wasn’t afraid of Emily. She was terrified of the police.

“No police. I promise,” Emily said. “Just talk to me. No one will know. Please. I’m begging you.”

Ana opened her eyes and took a deep breath. She went over to one of the other clerks and whispered to her. Then she returned to Emily and motioned her through a back door.

Emily followed her into a storage room stacked with supplies, past a coatrack hung with purses and messenger bags, through another back door, and into the shadowy alley behind the store. Ana stopped beside a dumpster, the ground around it littered with cigarette butts and the air reeking of ripe garbage.

Ana folded her arms across her chest and glared at Emily. “Okay? So?”

“Did you talk to the police?”