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was more than a conservative Catholic upbringing. Before joining homicide, he had worked in anticrime initiatives that targeted prostitution in the theater district and nearby Bay Village and Chinatown. Hundreds of arrests of hookers and would-be customers, many drug-related, had been made, but Neil hated the assignment. He couldn’t wait to transfer out. After roughing up a few suspects, he was transferred to homicide.
    â€œThe thing is it scares me.”
    â€œWhat does?”
    â€œAll the shit out there—in the media, movies, online—and what it’s doing to Lily. Over the last year she’s developed a woman’s breasts. I don’t know, maybe I’m supposed to be happy for her: ‘Hey, my kid’s really stacked.’ Maybe she’s taking birth control pills, because that’s what sometimes happens—they get overdeveloped. I think she’s getting them from friends because I know it’s not her pediatrician.”
    â€œYou’re worried about her being sexually active.”
    â€œYeah, but it’s not just that. She’s aware how she looks, and she’s beginning to flaunt herself. Her clothes are too revealing and I have to talk to her. But sometimes she slips out of the house looking like that chick. Or worse. Also guys are calling her all the time. And some of them are older—in their twenties. It scares me where it can lead.”
    They were silent some more as Steve could sense Neil struggling with something.
    Then he said, “I think she’s sending stuff over the Internet to guys.”
    â€œWhat kind of stuff?”
    â€œPhotos of herself.”
    â€œYou know that for a fact?”
    â€œYeah,” Neil said, and did not elaborate. “It’s how she hooks up. It’s what kids are doing today—making their own kiddie porn.”
    â€œI once got in trouble for sending a love note to a girl in my class. For a month I got razzed. Not to mention how dear ole mom reacted.”
    â€œWell, the sexual market’s gotten younger and meaner, and if you ask me it’s the Lindsay Lohans and Paris Hiltons who’re to blame, teaching kids that all that counts is how hot you are. It scares the shit out of me.”
    The light changed, and the college women began to cross the street as Neil trailed them with his gaze. As he pulled away, the woman with the auburn hair turned and looked back in their direction, as her friend pointed out some building. And in that microsecond Steve almost caught whatever recollection was trying to land, skittering just beyond the veil.
    Something that set his chest pounding all the way back to headquarters.

8
    â€œLook, there are dozens of good plastic docs in this town, but Carl says he’s the best: ‘Cosmetic surgeon of the rich and the wrinkled.’”
    Dana had met Lanie at a bistro on Newbury Street, Boston’s Rodeo Drive. The curb was lined with Porsches, Mercedes, and BMWs and behind them were designer clothiers, designer hair salons, designer florists, designer galleries, and designer people sporting big shiny shopping bags with names like Armani, Chanel, DKNY, and Rodier of Paris. Because it was a warm spring day, they sat outside at faux Parisian marble café tables under red Cinzano umbrellas.
    Lanie Walker, an administrator at GEM Pharmaceuticals, was ten years older than Dana and married to a pediatrician. Because the tables were packed closely to each other, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Aaron Monks. You can’t do better than him.”
    â€œI think I’ve heard of him.”
    â€œOf course you’ve heard of him. He’s on all the morning talk shows. Boston Magazine listed him in the top twenty-five most eligible bachelors in town. In fact, today’s Globe has a story about his getting an award Saturday night at the Westin Hotel for inventing some transplant procedures.”
    â€œI’m just thinking of a