Leaning forward against the ladder for balance, she took the Beretta from her pocket. It was ready to fire, but she was terrified to try. Carmen and Hogan stood mere inches apart. And she’d have to shoot through the glass. Did she need to compensate for that somehow? She didn’t have the experience to know how the window might affect a bullet’s trajectory, or even whether the bullet would penetrate the thick glass at all.

But as she hesitated, to her horror, the situation below deteriorated. Hogan’s face was contorted in anger. He was shouting something at Dan, but she couldn’t make out the words. He must’ve threatened to kill Carmen. Dan lowered his gun. Hogan turned his. He was about to shoot Dan! Melanie raised the Beretta fast, aimed, and squeezed the trigger, turning her head away as the window exploded all around her. She opened her eyes, panting in fear, and looked out to see Dan on top of Hogan, struggling to get his gun away. When the window shattered, Dan had charged. Within seconds he flipped Hogan over on his stomach and cuffed him. Carmen sank to her knees, sobbing hysterically.

Melanie raced down the ladder and out onto the snow-covered balcony, not even stopping for her shoes.

“Did I get him?” she shouted at Dan.

“That was you? Jesus, you are full of surprises!”

“Is he shot?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Dan hauled Hogan to his feet and inspected him. “You shot, scumbag?”

Hogan stared at them stonily, saying nothing.

Dan grinned. “He may be in one piece, but you sure did a job on that window.”

She looked up into Dan’s face, deeply relieved he hadn’t been hurt. “Show a little gratitude, cowboy. I just saved your butt.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I’m thinking up some excellent ways to thank you,” and he winked at her, baby blues twinkling.

With that, Melanie went over and embraced Carmen Reyes, thrilled that she could finally reunite the girl with her father.

65

ON THE AFTERNOON of Christmas Eve, Melanie sat at Trevor Leonard’s bedside waiting for him to wake up. Tucked in his hospital bed, with all his piercings removed, Trevor looked like the young kid he still was. The night of the gala, Detective Leary had found him in an alley a few blocks from Esposito’s warehouse, half frozen and beaten within an inch of his life, and had rushed him to the hospital. Trevor’s jaw was wired shut, he had three broken ribs, and several frostbitten toes. But he was alive, and the doctors expected him to make a full recovery.

The courthouse had closed early today, but not before Melanie arraigned Harrison Hogan on charges of murder and assault in furtherance of a narcotics conspiracy. Hogan faced a minimum twenty-to-life sentence, with the possibility of the death penalty if aggravating circumstances were proved. His lawyer was already talking about a plea to thirty years.

While she was in court for the Hogan arraignment, Melanie had taken the precaution of obtaining sealed warrants for the arrests of Patricia Andover and James Seward on wire-fraud charges. That take-down, along with a big press conference, was scheduled for the day after Christmas. With celebrity perps like those two, it should be a media circus, and Bernadette was so thrilled that she was flinging around words like “promotion” and “award.”

Melanie had done one other thing while she was in court. She’d come here to tell Trevor about it, as well as to reassure him that Hogan would be locked up for a long time, unable to do any further harm.

Trevor’s lids fluttered. He opened his blackened eyes.

“Hey,” Melanie said, as he struggled to lift his head. “No, don’t try to talk.”

Trevor pointed to the bedside table, and Melanie picked up the water bottle that sat there, helping him drink through a straw.

“Listen, I came by to tell you how sorry I am about what happened to you,” she said. “I’m really devastated, Trevor.”

He motioned toward the table again, and she saw a pad and paper there. She handed it to him; he scribbled something and held it up so she could see.

“Chill out,” he’d written. “My choice. I did it for Bree.”

“Well, I want you to know, we got him. Hogan, I mean. It turns out he was Jay Esposito’s cousin, and his right-hand man. He was recruiting Holbrooke girls for the drug operation.”

“Expo?” Trevor wrote.

“Dead! Hogan murdered him.”

Trevor raised his eyebrows in shock.

“I know,” Melanie said. “Pretty wild, huh? And Hogan murdered Whitney Seward by shooting her up with heroin and OxyContin. Plus,” she said, counting on her fingers, “we have him on heroin distribution resulting in the death of Brianna Meyers, assaulting you, and an embezzlement scheme at Holbrooke that I’m charging under the federal wire-fraud statute. He’s looking at thirty years, minimum.”

Trevor gave her a weak high five. She could tell from the tautness of his cheeks that he was fighting not to smile.

“But there’s something else I came here to tell you, Trevor. Luckily, it’s Christmas, and the chain of command in my office is feeling generous, because even given your stellar cooperation, getting this approved is pretty rare.”

He looked at her questioningly.

“I dismissed all your charges. The ecstasy, that Internet-fraud thing-everything. With prejudice, so they can’t be brought again. That’s different from just getting sentenced to probation. It means you have a clean record. A fresh start. And I want you to make good use of it, because I see what a solid person you are. You have a lot to offer the world if you walk the straight and narrow path.”

His eyes filled with tears, and they hugged.

DAN WAS WAITING outside with the engine running and the heat on.

“You told Trevor about dropping the charges?” he asked as she sank into the passenger seat, pulling her heavy coat tight around her.

“Yes. He was very happy. It was a nice Christmas present to be able to give him. Speaking of-what the heck is that in the backseat?”

There was a huge teddy bear wearing a Santa hat in the back of Dan’s car.

“Well, you invited me over for dinner. I’m a little nervous about meeting Maya again, since she didn’t seem too keen on me last time.”

“She was sick, silly.”

“Whatever. I’m not taking any chances. I know better than to show up empty-handed. Chicks always dig a gift.”

She giggled. “Not me. I’m not materialistic like that.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, then I won’t give you the thing I got you.”

“You got me something? Really? That is so sweet!”

“Yeah, but since you’re not materialistic, you don’t need it.”

“Hey, come on, don’t be that way! What is it?”

“I’m not telling.”

“Where is it?”

He lifted his arms and gave her a million-dollar smile. “Somewhere on my person.”

“Oh, you want me to pat you down? You sure?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You have no idea what you’re in for.”

“Bring it on, Melanie Vargas. Life’s short. Let’s not waste another second.”