There were two rinks, one on either side of the seating area. He chose the one on the left. Got it on the first try. Lulu was immediately recognizable, nearly alone on the ice at this hour. She had the stringy limbs of a colt and an adolescent awkwardness, but you could tell she’d be really good with the proper coaching. A lot of the elements were already in place: impressive technical skill for her age, a ferocious energy in the way she attacked the moves. But she lacked artistry. He should really stop, though, shouldn’t he? It wouldn’t do to start thinking of Lulu as too much of a person. Better to keep his emotional distance and be free to take whatever action proved most…advantageous.

He climbed the aluminum bleachers and took a seat front and center. All she’d have to do was look up once and she’d see him. He had no doubt that Lulu would immediately understand why he was there. She wasn’t stupid, and she knew enough about what had happened to the other girls. She must, or else she would have told the cops by now how to find her sister. Because she’d definitely seen him the other night.

He sat there for a while, the cold seeping into his bones as Lulu skated and skated. Jumps and spins and arabesques. Eventually she turned and began gliding smoothly toward the half door that led off the ice. That was when she looked up and saw him-and instantly tripped over her skates, tumbling facefirst to the hard, gleaming surface.

ESPOSITO PULLED MELANIE along a narrow ledge above the tracks. Light poured into the tunnel, courtesy of the headlamp of the number-six train that sat spitting and heaving in the station like some prehistoric beast. She’d better be damned careful of her footing: In a second the train would roar by, ready to eviscerate anything-anybody-in its path. The thought that Esposito knew who she was, that he might decide to push her onto the tracks, was farfetched. She tried to tell herself this but still couldn’t seem to shake the terrible image from her mind. Esposito just gave off that vibe. And besides, she was doing something completely reckless.

Like most New Yorkers, Melanie knew by heart the sounds of a subway train gearing for takeoff. She listened to the familiar sequence now with intense focus. The singsong warning bells that accompanied the closing doors. The hissing as the brakes released. And finally-as her chest heaved with panic, as Esposito grabbed her arms with powerful hands-the thunderous rumble of the train moving into the tunnel, heading smack for her. She screamed, throwing her body weight toward the wall, away from the tracks. Esposito laughed and, holding tight to her bare arms, let her pull him along, using gravity and his bulk to trap her against the slick tiles. In an instant, the train was gone, and she was twisting away to avoid his sloppy tongue kiss. It seemed he hadn’t intended anything beyond a grope.

“You’re a crazy one,” he said. “I like that in a woman. Let’s see what other tricks you got up your sleeve. My office is right here.”

He pushed open a metal door set into the tile wall to reveal a small, brightly lit storeroom. It was meagerly furnished, with a couple of low foam sofas, a card table strewn with papers, and, leaning incongruously against the wall, a sleek leather bag holding a full set of titanium golf clubs. Her heart was still pounding with adrenaline as she quickly scanned the room. She didn’t see any drugs-or anyplace to hide drugs either. Esposito pulled the door closed behind them and advanced toward her.

“Hey,” Melanie said, backing away, “where’s the candy store you promised me?”

“Just using me to get hooked up? That’s not very nice, is it?”

“You offered.”

“I need a little showing of good faith first. Like one of them special Spanish-girl blow jobs.”

He reached for his fly. She started to gag. So much for her resemblance to good old Mirta.

Just then the metal door flew open with a crash.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dan O’Reilly demanded from the threshold.

“Who are you?” Esposito asked.

“That’s my girlfriend, asshole!” He turned to Melanie. “Answer me, you slut. What are you doing in here with this scumbag?”

“Nothing,” she said, shrinking away like she was afraid of Dan. “I swear, baby.”

Dan stepped into the room and grabbed her by the arm. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to? I can’t turn my back on you for ten seconds without you spreading your legs for some lowlife. You’re coming with me.”

“Yo, calm down, pal, nothing happened,” Esposito said, making no move to stop them as Dan pretended to drag Melanie toward the door.

“Stay the fuck away from her, or I promise you you’ll regret it,” Dan warned.

Esposito just waved his hand nonchalantly. He let them go without a fuss, like it was nothing to him. But as she and Dan passed through the metal door, Melanie cast Esposito a final, curious glance and found him looking at her with cunning eyes.

AFTER A QUICK SEARCH failed to turn up anybody else from their team, Melanie and Dan decided to hop the next six out. She left a message on her sister’s cell saying she was safe and another for Bridget telling her to come back to the pub where they’d met earlier once she’d completed the buy.

“We had a deal,” Dan said as they settled into a booth at the pub twenty minutes later. He glared at her, so angry his breathing was rapid. “That was way out of line, what you did back there. You put yourself in danger, and other people, too. Prosecutors shouldn’t work undercover. They don’t know what the fuck they’re doing, so they don’t take basic precautions. Like a wire and a backup team and a prearranged signal for when things go south.”

He paused for breath.

“You done?” she asked.

“No, I’m just getting started.”

“Oh, come on, Dan, I wasn’t looking to work undercover, and you know it. Bernadette ordered me to go to the club to monitor Trevor. It was just chance that I met Esposito. Once he told me he had drugs in that room, what was I supposed to do? Ignore the lead? This is an urgent matter. Am I the only one who remembers that Carmen Reyes is still missing?”

“Esposito lied. There were no drugs in that room. I checked it out before you ever went in there.”

“Fine, he lied. How was I supposed to know?”

“Any idiot could see the guy was just trying to get into your pants. You’re not taking any more risks like that. I won’t allow it.”

“What are you talking about? You take risks every day.”

“That’s my fucking job. It’s what I’m trained for. You’re a lawyer, not a cop.”

“Hey, I can handle myself, all right? You have no business telling me what to do.”

“Yeah? Whose fault is that?” he snapped back, eyes blazing.

A young waitress dressed in black pants and a white shirt came over and swiped at their table desultorily with a damp rag. “Menus or just drinkin’?” she asked.

Melanie stared at Dan, taken aback by his last comment, but he deliberately avoided her gaze. After a moment she gave up.

“I missed dinner,” she said, sighing. “I could eat something.”

“Yeah, okay. Me, too.”

The waitress left them menus. Melanie studied hers for a second, then peeked over the top of it, watching him as he perused his. Whose fault was it that they weren’t together? He seemed to be implying it was hers. A pang of longing swelled her chest, making it hard to breathe. Even when they argued, being around him felt so right. This thing between them didn’t want to die, and maybe she shouldn’t let it. Life was too short. Weren’t they wasting time, being apart?

He looked up and caught her staring. “What?”

“Shouldn’t we talk?”