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night when I couldn’t sleep through the nightmares. It was all Sonia’s fault. She drilled into me the ways and means of beauty, taught me how to play the coquettish little whore, the charming schoolgirl, the mature woman. She showed me how to walk, how to flirt, how to trap a man, all before I was ten. Hell, if I did bring it on myself, then Sonia’s the one who brought it on me.”
    “You know that’s bullshit: No woman brings on her own rape,” Rosie said. “You still get flashbacks? Ever scared?”
    Summer held up her house keys, jangled them. Five just to get in her front door.
    Rosie licked the rim of her glass. “Any word on the search for Sonia?”
    “I don’t think anyone’s looking anymore. I put up some more flyers last weekend, but no one’s called.”
    Rosie fished an inhaler out of her purse and puffed, holding the vapor in her lungs. After exhaling, she started another cigarette.
    “I can’t believe you,” Summer said.
    “I refuse to let asthma alter my life one bit. Almost everyone I grew up with has an inhaler. The air pollution in the barrio or some other bullshit environmental factor.” Rosie swilled the rest of her martini. “I’m more worried about our drinking.”
    “You ever think about chucking the whole thing? You know, quitting?”
    “Every fucking day; but then I ask myself, How many people can say the government pays them to fuck with it? The corporate world isn’t for me. Uptight Ivy grads would only assume I was an affirmative action case. Besides, I like life closer to the ground. You?”
    “Lately, all I seem to think about is opting out. Running away to somewhere far away from here.”
    “The judges, D.A.s, politicians, they all want you to feel that way. Attrition is their best friend. You quit, you’d just be giving in to them. Besides, running won’t solve anything. You still have to face your problems in the mirror.”
    Summer wasn’t convinced. Sonia had run away. Maybe she wasn’t dead. Maybe she had found happiness. Maybe Summer could, too.
    Rosie flicked ashes on her plate. “Promise you’ll call me before quitting. Give me a chance to talk you out of it.”
    Summer didn’t tell Rosie she had already phoned Eddie Brockton, but he was out of town for a couple of days. Summer hadn’t left a message. “It’s a deal.”
    “What do you think of Gundy getting it?”
    Summer swirled her martini, then sipped. “Are any of us sorry he’s dead?”
    “Who do you think did it?” Rosie asked. “I’m still banking on Marsalis.”
    “If it was, they’ll never get him. He’ll concoct an airtight alibi, use phone records to prove he was at home at the time of the murder.”
    “Are you saying he can alter phone company records?”
    Summer held her empty glass up to the light and smiled.
    “Shit.” Rosie took another drag. “You know what I hated most about Gundy? He was always staring at my tits and ass. I used to dread riding the elevator alone with him. The last time I saw him, he’d just resigned from Sex Crimes and signed on to the Gang Task Force. He told me the first thing he was going to do was investigate my relationship with The Latin Brothers. I told him the only contact I had with the old gang was as their court-appointed attorney. Know what he did?”
    Summer waited.
    “Pinched my ass.”
    Touched by Rosie’s confidence, Summer said, “Gundy hit on me from day one. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. I finally told him if he didn’t cease and desist I’d file charges.”
    Rosie’s eyes grew. The secrets women kept from one another. “I never knew you were going through it, too! What happened after that?”
    “He turned off the little charm he had and made my life hell. I’m sure he sent me sex pics in the mail, the heads of the women cut out.”
    “Seriously? I heard he was going to make a run for the Senate. Thank God the wicked hick está muerte .”
    Summer picked up the glasses and weaved into the kitchen. Through a window she