"In the same place? What about the way it looks? There'll be gossip."

Vicki didn't like his tone of voice. She wished it weren't so dark so she could see his face more clearly. "They gossiped about us when you were married, too. Who cares about gossip anyway?"

"We both do. People don't know about us now, but I have discretion, as Chief, in giving out cases. Promotions, raises. It'll look like I'm favoring you."

"Well, you won't." Vicki felt her heart tug. "What, do you stop loving me when you get a promotion?"

"No, of course not," Dan answered softly. "I do love you, sweetie." He reached for Vicki and pulled her close, where she burrowed back into his chest, reclaiming him. He sighed. "Look, let it go, for now. This was an endless day, and I have no idea when was the last time you slept. Let's just get some rest."

"I can't sleep after this!"

"Yes, you can. You're beat." Dan shifted down in bed, still holding Vicki, and pulled the comforter over them both. "Just go to sleep and don't worry about a thing."

"I am worried."

"Everything's gonna be all right," Dan said, kissing her head. "Good night."

"Good night," Vicki said, but she was remembering something about relationships. Men always slept better after a fight. In fact, a good fight was like Tylenol P.M. for men. She tried to relax and kept watching the sky to see if the stars came out. But they didn't.

The next time Vicki opened her eyes was 9:17 at night. The bedroom was dark and quiet except for the hissing of the radiator and Dan's regular breathing. The cat wasn't in her spot any longer, but had left for her nightly walkabout, which included scratching noisy newspaper, crawling into noisy shopping bags, and meowing out the window, noisily, at streetlights. Vicki liked Zoe, but stepcats had their drawbacks.

She turned over and remembered what she and Dan had been talking about just before they'd fallen asleep. She turned and tried to put it out of her mind, without success. She got up, went to the bathroom, then came back to bed, sat down carefully, and watched Dan sleep the peaceful sleep of the newly promoted.

I love you, sweetie.

Vicki felt nervous, worried, hungry, and disoriented. She had been up and active for so many nights, she'd become as nocturnal as Zoe. She found herself wondering what Reheema was doing. They hadn't spoken since the morning. She looked down at Dan, arms thrown up behind his head, and knew she'd never fall back to sleep. If she went back to bed, she'd just wake him. She needed to think, and she needed a friend. So she got up, got dressed, and left her new boss a note on the pillow.

An hour later, Vicki was back in her beloved Cabrio, listening idly to KYW radio's continuous loop of coverage of what they were calling the Toys "R" Us Arrests and the Major Drug Bust. The mayor was quoted at length, then Strauss, on audiotape, and Vicki was enjoying hearing great things about truth, justice, and the American way when she remembered something she had forgotten.

She fumbled in her pocket for her cell phone, bypassing that pesky gun from the night before. She found the cell, flipped it open with a thumbnail, and pressed speed dial for her parents' home number, so it didn't look like she was playing favorites by picking one cell or the other. She had a fifty-fifty chance. The phone stopped ringing and the call connected.

"Mom?" Vicki asked, hopefully.

"Hello, honey!"

Yes! "Just wanted to say hi. I figured you guys would have seen me on the news. We arrested the man who killed my partner, the ATF agent."

"Yes! It was very exciting!" Her mother sounded genuinely happy, and in the background, Ruby the Insane Corgi barked and barked. "What a wonderful result, and you looked so nice up there. Your shoes were perfect."

"They always are." Vicki smiled. This phone call would be easy, because the party line was completely sanitized. This time the United States Attorney was lying to Vicki's parents, though she welcomed the help.

"Hold on a sec. I'll get your father on the extension."

No! The only thing worse than her father on the phone was her father on the extension. Her mother covered the phone while she called for him, and he picked up after a traffic light changed to green.

"Victoria?" her father said. Now there was barking in stereo.

"Yes, hi. I just wanted to say hello, and tell you things are going well. I guess you saw the press conference and the news."

"Yes, I read the account online, too. Sounds very interesting, and the phones have been ringing at the office all day. Harry and Janet Knowles, you know what nice people they are, called and so did Maureen Thompson and Gail Graves."

Their client family. "That's nice."

"Also her sister, Lynne Graves Stephenson, you remember her, from Chester County. Will Donato called, too, and one other. Oh yes, Karen Abdalla-Oliver and Mama Jean Bright-cliff."

You sure that's everybody?

"And Phyllis Banks, from South Philly."

"South Philly Phil?" Vicki smiled at the memory. She missed Phyllis.

"Yes. She's very happy for you. You and your colleagues must be very pleased."

"I am." But you will never be.

"It sounds like a very big case, fifteen defendants, all manner of counts."

Her mother added, "Well, I hope you're getting some rest, dear. You did look a little tired, on TV."

It's the sex. "Well. I gotta go, Mom. It's late. I just wanted to check in."

"Good, get some sleep, honey," her mother said, and her father added:

"Pleasant dreams."

In time, Vicki crossed into Devil's Corner and had reached Lincoln Street, surprised to see lights, commotion, and activity. She drove down Lincoln, closer to whatever was going on; one block, then two, until she had to stop. Reheema's block had been cordoned off by police sawhorses, and a crowd of people filled the street, milling around outside, even in the frigid air. TV klieglights sliced the night sky, calcium-white beams knifing the cold cobalt-blue, and the white microwave antenna of a mobile newsvan towered almost as high as the row houses.

Vicki's mouth went dry. She flashed on the scene outside Shayla Jackson's, the night she'd been killed. Reheema's block looked like a crime scene. What could it be? She had listened to the radio on the way over, and the news had been dominated by the Toys "R" Us arrests and the drug busts. She hadn't heard anything about trouble in Devil's Corner. Maybe it had just happened and hadn't hit the media yet.

Alarmed, Vicki slammed on the brakes, yanked up the emergency, and parked the car. She jumped out and hustled toward the crowd and the TV lights, her heart lodged somewhere in her throat. She reached the crowd and heard noise, talk, and shouting coming from near Reheema's house.

"What's going on?" Vicki asked a man in a down parka, but his thick hood was up and he turned away. Then she heard rap music and what sounded like singing.

Huh? Vicki wedged her way through the crowd, which was buzzing and chattering happily away. People carried homemade signs that they pumped in time to the thumpa-thumpa rap. A handwritten poster on a stake read, KEEP THE DEVILS OUT OF DEVIL'S CORNER! Another sign, Magic Marker on oak tag, said, TO HELL WITH THE HOLE!

Vicki relaxed, smiling. It wasn't a crime, it was some sort of block party. She wedged her way toward Reheema's, where she smelled hot dogs and grilling barbecue. Nelly rapped about Nellyville on a boom box, and neighbors danced, laughed, smoked, and talked on the street and sidewalk, heedless of the temperature. It was a joyous sight for a street that used to be so deserted, and in the middle of the crowd, dancing tall above the other heads, there bopped a familiar knit cap.

"Reheema!" Vicki called out, making a mitten megaphone. Reheema looked over at the sound, but couldn't see a very short AUSA among the revelers. "It's me!"