CINDY STAYED AT HER DESK late that night, when only a handful of Metro stringers trolling the police wires were still around. The truth was, where else could she go?

This thing with Jill was killing her; it was killing all of them.

Word had leaked out. A missing A.D.A. was news. Her city editor asked if she wanted to write it. He knew they were friends. "It's not news yet," she had snapped. Writing it made it news. Made it real.

This time it wasn't happening to someone else.

She stared at a photo of them she kept taped to her cu-bicle. The four of them, in their old haunt, Susie's, their cor-ner booth, after they solved the bride and groom case. A few margaritas had left their brains leaking like a wetlands pre-serve. Jill had seemed so invincible. The power job, the power husband. Never once had she let on....

"C'mon, Jill," Cindy whispered, feeling her eyes glisten-ing over. Come through this. Walk through that door. Show your pretty face, smiling. I'm praying, Jill. Walk through that fucking door.

It was afte............