Harvey hesitated as though there was something more he wanted to tell me, but then dropped my papers back on the desk and stood up. “Sure. Me, too. If you’re here at night, turn out the lights when you leave, all right?”

I sat down at the desk and stared at the volume of Wests I had been using on the abortion clinic case. I stared at it for a long time. The blue binding, the gold leaf print. Soothing self-contained colors, the idea that everything you need to know is in a book. You just need to know how to use the index. When I felt calm enough, I turned on my phone machine to check my messages.

The only person who had called was my father. The sound of his voice irritates me. I turned the machine off and pulled out a bottle of bourbon I keep in the bottom drawer of the desk. I poured an inch into my glass, then turned the machine back on. It was the same as all his other phone calls. He sounded about three sheets to the wind. Why didn’t I get a real job? When was I going to get married? He wanted to be a grandfather.

I pushed the machine to rewind. Like Carmen Luzano, like Cathy Vega, like Lupe, I have a hidden life. My father has no idea who I am. I finished the bourbon in one gulp. I poured another one. I’ve always told myself I’d never drink. I’d seen him do enough of that. The photos of Cathy Vega were still in my purse. I put them on the desk in front of me. She had good skin, a strong, nearly square jaw. Her penetrating eyes stared back at me, mocking and defiant.

“Damn you, Cathy Vega.” I tipped my glass to her. “I’m going to find out who you are and what happened to you. No one’s ever going to hurt me or use me like they did you. Or Lupe. Nobody’s going to mess with Lupe, not while I’m around.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN