"Is your father around at all?" Kellerman said. He didn't think there was anything he could do to help her situation, but it seemed to him that she needed someone to talk to.

Jessie swallowed the bite she'd been chewing and said: "My parents were divorced when I was eight. My dad ran off and never paid a penny of child support. I haven't seen him since. That's when my mom started drinking. She never went to college so she doesn't have any skills except for the typing and shorthand she learned in high school, so when she's sober enough, she works as a secretary. You don't know how many jobs she's lost because after a night of drinking she didn't bother getting up the next day. For a while I tried to call her work for her, tell them that she was sick and would be in the next day, but a person can only sick so many times.

"I've been working since I was fourteen. I do most of the shopping, the cooking, and the cleaning. If I got a real job—you know, nine to five—I could probably get us a slightly better standard of living, but I knew I needed to go to college or I'd end up like her, or married with five kids by the time I was thirty. I need to get away and I need to stay close. I worry about my mom, but . . . but I worry about myself, too. I don't know what's going to happen to me.

"The truth is, I have considered prostitution and stripping. They pay a hell of a lot more money than delivering pizzas."

Jessie was looking down at her plate as she said this.

"Look at me," Kellerman said. But she wouldn't look up. He reached over, put his hand on her cheek, and slowly nudged her face up until she couldn't help but look at him. "Promise me you're not going to do that. Ever."

"There are days that my mom spends all her salary on booze. Some of those days I don't eat," Jessie said, looking right into Kellerman's eyes.

"I'll help you sign up for food stamps, Jessie. You're a beautiful, smart girl. You don't want to go down that road. Drinking destroyed your mother's life. Selling yourself would destroy yours."

Jessie pulled her head away from Kellerman's hand. "I don't want to go on welfare."

"Fine, but promise me you won't think about prostitution anymore."

"You can't make me promise anything. What do you know about being poor? I never heard that cops make that much money, so you must have inherited a mint to be able to afford this boat," Jessie said.