She ran to her room, snapped on the light, and fell to her knees beside her bed, still wearing her parka, staring at the picture of the Virgin hanging above the nightstand. Lulu folded her hands together and prayed with all her might.

“Hail Mary, Mother of God, look. I’m gonna cut to the chase. I know you’re mad at me about the stuff with boys. But I wouldn’t let Tyler Cole go to third base at the mixer Saturday night, like you told me, even though he’da let me wear his St. David’s swim jacket if I did. And that jacket is fly, okay? So I don’t think I deserve this. I know it was really bad about going to second with Jake Cooper, but I repented a lot, and besides, you already punished me when he forwarded my e-mails to all his friends. I’m trying. Really I am. I know this is your decision and all, and I’m not telling you what to do. But it seems to me you picked a punishment that hurts Carmencita worse than me. And we both know she didn’t do nothing wrong. I mean, that girl, all she does is study and work and take care of this house. All she wants is to go to college. Okay, me, I’m boy crazy. I admit it, I’m bad. Definitely. But Carmen isn’t like that! She’s good. So why are you letting this happen to her? Why punish her for my sins? If you don’t care about me, think about Papi! What’s he supposed to do if shit gets messed up and Carmen dies? Who’s gonna take care of him then, when you already took his wife? Huh? Our Lady? Are you listening?”

Lulu stared desperately at the picture, trying to discern any movement or change of expression in the Virgin’s face. But the image was completely inert. Tears began falling in earnest from Lulu’s eyes, and her shoulders heaved with suppressed sobs. “Please! Please!” she pleaded. “Dear Lady, I need an answer. Before it’s too late.”

Lulu buried her face in the stiff, scratchy bedspread, eyes and nose streaming. She remained on her knees for a long time, until she was so exhausted that she climbed on top of the bed and fell into a fitful sleep, still wrapped in her parka.

32

MELANIE WAS on her second Starbucks of the morning, but aside from bad caffeine shakes and a couple of trips to the bathroom, it was having zero effect. She was in a complete daze. As exhausted as she’d been last night, she’d barely slept. And she needed her brain to function today. The team would be here any minute to write the wiretap application for Jay Esposito’s cell phone. The team, including Dan. Concentrate, goddamn it. Stop thinking about him. It was Wednesday morning, and between getting Main Justice approval and going before the judge, they were pushing it to be up on the cell phone in time for the Friday shipment as it was. She’d put all her credibility on the line with Bernadette and Lieutenant Albano, convincing them the wiretap was necessary, so she couldn’t afford to fuck it up by obsessing over some guy.

But focusing her bleary eyes on the computer screen was more than Melanie could manage. She’d gotten only so far as typing the cell-phone and ESN numbers into the caption before she’d wandered off into her mental torture chamber, reliving the events of last night. The expression on Steve’s face when he’d seen Dan. Worse, the expression on Dan’s when he’d seen Steve.

UH-HUH,” Steve had said, nodding so knowingly you would’ve thought he caught her like this every night and twice on weekends. “I’m obviously interrupting something. Your mother said you were working, Mel. Did you misinform her, or was she covering for you?”

“Steve, this is my friend Dan O’Reilly from-”

“I know who he is.” And he did. Steve had seen them kissing in a car once, months ago, right when he and Melanie had first separated.

Dan nodded at Steve grimly. “How you doing?”

“I was doing fine. Planning to have a little holiday celebration with my wife, if you don’t mind,” Steve said, gesturing with the two glasses of champagne in his hands.

“Your ex-wife. Almost,” Melanie said hurriedly. “That’s nice of you, Steve. And thanks for stepping in to watch Maya, but I have other plans right now.”

“Apparently. You might want to fix your lipstick.”

“Steve, come on, we’re separated. As a matter of fact, Linda told me she saw you at a club Saturday night with some-”

“Hey,” Dan interrupted, speaking to Melanie but eyes still on Steve, who stood there acting aggrieved in his expensive clothes and perfectly barbered hair. Melanie cringed inside. She knew Dan O’Reilly well enough to be pretty sure what was coming next.

“Dan…” she began, but he wouldn’t look her in the face.

“It’s late. Now that I got you home safe, I really gotta run, okay? Have a good night.”

“Dan-”

“Gotta go.”

“No, please, wait!”

But he’d already turned decisively on his heel and plunged through the fire door to the back stairwell, choosing to walk down eight flights rather than wait for the elevator.

RAY-RAY WONG strode in carrying a bunch of file folders. Melanie had been staring off into space, turning over in her mind what she’d say to Dan if he showed up first, alone. She had to admit she was kind of relieved to see Ray-Ray instead. Maybe Dan would just quit the case. But no, that would be awful. The fact was, she couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened in the elevator last night. Oh, God, his mouth, his body, the way he was in such a hurry that he was kind of rough with her. Muy erótico. What she really wanted was to get past all the awkwardness about Steve and head straight back to that elevator. Any elevator. Get stuck between floors with Dan, for at least an hour. Mmmm.

“Did you hear what I just said?” Ray-Ray asked.

Stop, Melanie Vargas. Stop this instant.

“I’m sorry. I was worrying about this requirement in the Title III statute, whether we meet the criteria or not,” she said.

“I’ve got something a whole lot more interesting, ma’am. Remember you told me what that guy Hogan said about Whitney Seward’s blog?”

“Oh, right.”

“Well, I located it last night, with some help from a friend of mine on the Tech Squad. It’s pretty unbelievable. I have the Web address. May I?”

“Please.” Melanie got up and came around the desk, and Ray-Ray went to sit in her swivel chair. “Just minimize my document. There’s an icon for Internet access,” she said.

Ray-Ray fiddled around with the computer. Melanie sat in a guest chair, trying not to think about Dan, which was only possible if she made her mind a complete blank.

After a few minutes, Ray-Ray frowned and said, “Huh.”

“What is it?”

“It keeps telling me the page isn’t available. Let me see if I can get my buddy from Tech on the line.”

Ten minutes went by, during which Melanie leafed through the file folders Ray-Ray had brought while he consulted by telephone with the Tech guy. Work always made Melanie feel better. She busied herself marking the various subpoena responses with yellow Post-its. The details of telephone billing records and flight manifests between New York and Puerto Rico soothed her overwrought mind considerably. At the very least, by the time she’d finished, she felt like she could face Dan O’Reilly without either ripping off his clothes or bursting into tears and running away.

Finally Ray-Ray hung up. “You’re not gonna believe this,” he said.

“What?”

“The blog’s gone. Vanished from the Web.”

“You’re kidding. Who did that?”

“Apparently somebody using Whitney’s username and password. Happened at 2317 hours last night.”

“Did you make a record of what was on it?”