“Patty’s right,” Melanie said, meeting Trevor’s eyes, speaking with quiet intensity. “A witness was murdered on a case I did a while back. Agent O’Reilly’s upset because he knows how much her death affected me. All I can say is, that experience made me understand in a very personal way how much is at stake when somebody cooperates.” She shook her head slowly. “You know, we can probably make this case without you, Trevor. Maybe you should just eat the jail time and not take the risk.”

The room exploded, everybody talking at once.

“But you said he’s facing three years! He can’t do that. What about college?” Trevor’s father exclaimed.

“You and me should talk outside, Melanie,” Dan said.

Patty Atkins blurted, “But I never said my client wasn’t interested-”

Trevor waved his hand in the air. “Whoa, you guys, calm down. I’m not freaking out here. Nobody else should either, okay?”

“If he does this undercover stuff, does that mean he won’t have to go to jail?” Trevor’s father asked.

Melanie turned to Patty. “I assume you’re looking for a probation-ary sentence?”

“Naturally. I mean, look at him, he’s a baby. He’d get eaten alive inside,” Patty said.

“I don’t want to see him do hard time either, Patty. But the fact is, to get to zero jail time from where he is, he needs to produce something. And I’m not talking about just giving a statement. Without any arrests to his credit, he’ll never make probation. So that’s a reality you all need to consider.”

“Maybe Trevor should go to jail,” his father said. “It might teach him a lesson. God knows, I can’t control him. It would be better than exposing him to something dangerous anyway.”

“Jail is dangerous,” Melanie observed. “Trevor’s charged with a drug offense, so he’d get designated to a maximum-security facility. He’d be in with some hardened types.”

“You happy now? See where you ended up? What did I tell you?” Trevor’s father demanded, looking at his son in disgust.

Melanie sighed and got to her feet. “Look, why don’t we stop for today. I’m beginning to feel like this isn’t going anywhere.”

“Not necessary,” Trevor said. “I’ve made up my mind. You’re missing the point. All of you, but especially you, Dad.”

“Trevor,” Patty said, “please don’t say anything further until-”

“No, really! It’s my life. Let me talk.”

Melanie sat back down behind her desk. “Okay. We’re listening.”

Trevor drew a deep, sighing breath. Tears began to roll slowly down his cheeks.

“Brianna Meyers was my best friend. Dad, I’m not saying this to hurt you or anything, but you know me and her both came from some fucked-up family situations. Some of that stuff that went on before Mom left? That was some mad shit! And then after, when Mom wouldn’t see us for two years? Brianna got me through all that. She was a great person. She was smart and kind. She played the cello. She had a pretty voice and a nice body. It’s a fucking waste that she died, and that prick Expo is responsible. Bottom line,” he said, turning to Melanie, “show me where to fucking sign, because I’m in.”

“I respect your feelings for Brianna, Trevor,” Melanie said gently. “We all do. But we need to make sure-”

“I’m sure,” Trevor said firmly. “I’m definitely sure. And it’s my decision. So let’s do it.”

Melanie considered telling him no. The final call on whether to allow a witness to cooperate lay in the prosecutor’s discretion. If something happened to Trevor, it would be on Melanie’s conscience, and she wasn’t sure she wanted that burden. On the other hand, Carmen Reyes was still missing. Didn’t Melanie also need to consider Carmen’s future, Carmen’s safety? Rosario Sangrador’s death weighed so heavily on Melanie that she needed to watch herself lest she become a less aggressive prosecutor than she ought to be.

“All right,” Melanie said finally. “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

AFTER HIS FATHER LEFT, Trevor Leonard gave them a full and complete proffer of information.

“I went to Screen just once with Brianna and Whitney, maybe two, three weeks ago,” Trevor explained, sitting in a guest chair in Melanie’s office, his lawyer still beside him. Melanie sat behind her desk. Dan and Bridget leaned against her filing cabinets, listening and taking occasional notes.

“No question,” Trevor continued, “Whitney was hooking up with the dude. He comes up to us, like, the minute we walk in the door, says everything’s on the house. And at first I thought he was into Brianna, right, because he’s majorly checking her out. I remember he asked her how old she was, which I thought was weird. But then him and Whitney disappeared for, like, an hour. Whitney came back high off her ass and all skanky, like she just got finished doing the wild thing. Her hair a mess, her makeup smeared all over her face. She flaunted it, too, like she wanted everyone to know what a porn star she was. I was, like, go take a shower, skank, you disgust me.”

“Did you see Esposito again that night?”

“No. Well, yes, but only from a distance. I never talked to him again.”

“When you met him, was anyone else with him? Anyone who might’ve worked for him?”

“Yeah, actually. Two bodyguards. From what Whitney was saying, they drive Expo around in a big black Escalade and hurt people for him. She seemed to get off on that. Chick was a major thrill seeker, I’m telling you.”

“Can you give us physical descriptions of Esposito and the bodyguards?” Melanie asked.

“Expo’s, like, a fly-looking dude with a shaved head and this huge diamond earring. Thirties, forties, I’m not sure. Old anyway. The bodyguards are both as big as houses. One’s black, one’s white, and the white one’s got a nasty-looking scar in his cheek, like from a bullet hole.”

Melanie caught Dan’s eye; he nodded at her solemnly. She’d already filled him in on the goons’ descriptions as reported earlier by Gabriel Colón. Expo was watching the feds before they started watching him.

“Did you happen to catch the bodyguards’ names?” she asked Trevor.

“The white guy with the scarface was Pavel. Russian dude, I think. The black guy, no. Oh, and there’s another guy who works for Expo, named Bud. I never met him, but Whitney mentioned him, and Expo talked to him on the phone when I was at Screen that night.”

“Did Whitney say anything in particular about Bud? Any details?”

“He was a go-between. The one who’d call her when Expo wanted her to do something.”

“Trevor, let me ask you something,” Dan said. “Just hypothetical, now. Think you could get into Screen, maybe take Detective Mulqueen with you, introduce her around so she can make a controlled buy of heroin from Esposito or one of his employees?”

“Hey, wait a minute-” Patty Atkins began, but Trevor cut her off.

“Hey, it’s cool. Really, Patty, I’m not afraid of any of this. I’m pretty into it.”

“Trevor, Patty’s right to be concerned,” Melanie said. “I want to make sure myself that if you go to Screen, we have all the bases covered as far as your safety’s concerned.”

“Quite honestly, the last time I was there, I bought some X. The Russian bodyguard steered me to a house dealer who was operating out of the men’s room. So it’s cool, I’ve done it before. I’d recognize Expo’s people, and they’d do business with me.”

“And just so everybody’s extra comfortable,” Dan said, “Detective Mulqueen can do the actual buy. I’ll go, too, blend into the crowd, observe and jump in if anything starts looking hinky. We’ll be right on top of Trevor the whole time.”

“There’s just one problem,” Trevor said.

“What’s that?” Melanie asked.

“Screen moves around.”

“You mean, like, the floor moves?”

Trevor giggled. “The floor? What, like Saturday Night Fever? What century are you from? No, see, Expo’s regular clubs are strictly for the bridge-and-tunnel crew. Celebs and ‘it girls’ like Whitney Seward and their posses, they turn up their noses at those places. They only go to underground clubs, see?”