Things began to unravel for her around the stupid article. Rook hadn't shown her his draft yet when the photographer showed up at the precinct to shoot pictures, and the first clue was that they were all of her. She held out for team shots, especially of Raley and Ochoa, her stalwarts; however, the best she could get out of the shooter were a few group photos with her team arranged behind her.

The worst of it for her were the poses. When Captain Montrose said she had to cooperate, Nikki indulged a few candids, but the photographer, an A-lister with a bulldozer approach, started posing her. "This is for the cover," he said. "The candids won't work for that." So she went along.

At least she did until the photographer was directing her to look tougher peering through the bars in the lockup and said, "Come on, show me some of that avenging-my-mother fire I've been reading about."

That night she demanded Rook show her the article. When she finished reading, Nikki asked him to take her out of it. It wasn't just that it made her the star of the squad. Or that it minimized the efforts of her team, turning the others into footnotes. Or that it was destined to make her so visible-Cinderella was one of her favorite movies, although Nikki thought she'd rather enjoy it as a fairy tale than live it. Her biggest objection was that it was too personal. Especially the part about her mother's murder.

To Nikki, Rook seemed blinded by his own creation. Everything she mentioned, he had an answer for. He told her that every person he profiled freaked before publication. She said maybe he should start listening to them. Argument on. He said he couldn't edit her out of the article because she was the article. "And even if I wanted to? It's locked. It's already typeset."

That was the last night she saw him. Three months ago.

She thought if she never saw him again, it would be just fine. But he didn't go quietly. Maybe he thought he could charm his way back to her. Why else would Rook keep calling Nikki even in the face of serial no's and then a stonewall of no replies? But he must have gotten the message, because he'd stopped reaching out. At least until two weeks ago, when the issue hit the newsstands and Rook sent her a sonar ping in the form of a signed copy of the magazine plus a bottle of Silver Patron and a basket of limes.