“I’ve seen it,” Letty said, quickly folding the tabloid and handing it back. She nodded toward Maya, who was busily applying stickers to a new workbook Ava had mailed. “It was plastered across the front of the newsstand across the street from our building. I was terrified she’d see it.”

The diner’s door opened and Vikki Hill walked in. She dropped into the red vinyl booth beside Maya. “Hiya, Maya Papaya!”

Letty stared. The FBI agent was hardly recognizable. Her hair was swept into a tight French knot, she wore makeup, black heels and a close-fitting navy pantsuit.

“You came!” Letty exclaimed.

“Miss Vikki!” Maya said, grinning. “Do you live here too, now?”

“For now,” Vikki said, dropping a kiss on the child’s head. “When did you get so big? What are you, eleven or twelve now?”

“I’m five!” Maya said proudly.

“Almost,” Letty corrected. “It’s next week, actually, but we’ve been celebrating her birthday for the past two weeks.”

Letty touched the agent’s hand. “I still can’t believe you’re here. And you’re really going to go to court with us today?”

Vikki motioned to the waitress and held up her empty coffee mug. “Of course I came. I wouldn’t miss seeing you-know-who get his comeuppance.”

She looked over at Mallory Kennedy. “No nasty, last-minute surprises, right?”

“Not so far,” the assistant district attorney said. “But I won’t feel good about this sentencing until the judge signs off on everything.”

The waitress brought the coffeepot and filled Vikki’s mug, but Letty refused a refill. “I’m antsy enough. Any more caffeine and my head will explode.”

Vikki sipped her brew. “I still can’t believe you-know-who’s lawyer insisted on making Maya testify in court about what she saw that day.”

“It was horrifying,” Mallory said. “But as bad as it was for her, I think hearing her tell it, in person, had much more impact than a video would have. You should have seen the look on the jury members’ faces,” she told Vikki. “The foreman, this sweet, grandfatherly-looking guy, looked like he wanted to personally string up you-know-who.”

A second waitress bustled up to the table. Her left arm was covered in tattoos, and her short, vividly dyed red bangs made her resemble a pixie.

“Zoey!” Maya clamored, standing up in the booth.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” the waitress said. “Art was under the impression I wanted to work a second shift today and I had to straighten him out.” She untied her apron and stuffed it in her tote bag. “All ready to go, Princess Maya?”

“Yay!” the child said. She looked over at the FBI agent. “Would you like to go to the movies with us, Miss Vikki?”

“Maybe another time,” Vikki Hill said.

“Thanks again, Zoey,” Letty said. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”