As much as I hated to admit it, Kat was right. The only problem was that there was just never a good time. It's not that I was putting it off or anything, I mean maybe I was a bit, but even so, Liv was busy every day after that night. Things only declined once we were informed that there was no way Carisi would be able to obtain an arrest warrant for the perp. There just wasn't enough evidence, his words not mine. We had the name of the guy and a face to match, but only because the victim, Trixie, had given it to us. I was pretty sure that wasn't even her real name. Anyway, he was some scumbag named James "Jimmy" Royce, charged with a DUI back in 2004, but other than that his record was clean. Either this guy was super careful, or we were being lied to. I liked to think it was the second one, but Liv refused to give up, as usual.

"I have just received word from Carisi telling me to drop the case," She said one day, pacing the room with her hands behind her back.

"Let me guess," Fin interjected. "You're not gonna listen to him."

"And why should I? This is my case, and therefore I decide when to give up. Instead, I've come up with a plan. As you know, Trixie's work area is a big favorite of Jimmy's. We know he's hired several women in that area, although all have said that they had never been assaulted by him. Now, either they are protecting him for whatever reason or Jimmy just so happened to rape only Trixie."

"Or maybe she's lyin'."

Liv stopped pacing and rubbed her forehead. "Fin, please. No more interruptions. What I'm saying is we need an opportunity to catch Jimmy in the act. I asked Trixie if she would be willing to wear a wire, but she's terrified of this guy and wants nothing to do with seeing him again until he's in handcuffs. Someone needs to go undercover as a prostitute, draw Jimmy out, and be in a room with him long enough for us to get a solid case."

"I bet Fin would look great in a skimpy dress," Kat joked.

"Very funny, Kat," Liv said, but her stone expression said otherwise. After a beat, she continued. "Seeing as Kat and I have already met him as police, and seeing as Fin isn't his type, that leaves us with..."

"Me," I finished. Everyone's eyes turned to me. I cleared my throat, uneasy from all the staring. "I can do it, no problem."

"It's not gonna be too personal, is it?" Fin asked. "With what happened with Al and all?"

"No, I'll be fine." The other two didn't make a sound, which made me throw my hands up. "Guys, I'll be fine. How many times do I gotta say it?"

Liv's mouth was partially ajar, as though she were about to argue. Just then, I noticed how tired she looked with heavy, dark circles surrounding her eyes, which seemed to be inflamed. When was the last time she had gotten a good sleep? "Okay, fine. Let's get you prepped."

If there had ever been a time before when I dressed that scandalous, I certainly don't remember it. The tight, short black dress I had been given barely covered my pale frame with a neckline that plunged to the middle of my torso, exposing most of my chest. It stopped a few inches above midthigh, which left my slender legs bare for all the world to see. I was made to stay achingly still as my eyebrows were plucked, my lashes framed with black ink, my lips smeared with red wax, and my cheeks dusted with blush. My hair was then curled, and each piece was pinned and sprayed into place with great precision. To top it all off, I was given a white fur coat, a matching white purse, a pair of large hoop earrings, and a necklace with some kind of black gem. That was where a tiny camera was hiding. After everything was done, the specialists left the room, leaving only Liv and myself.

I studied myself in the mirror. Despite the fact I was going undercover as a hooker, I looked good, pretty even. Liv secured the necklace behind my neck, saying, "The gem is black tourmaline. I read somewhere that people use it for protection. I thought it was fitting."

We locked eyes in the mirror. "I don't need a rock to protect me."

"At least you have it for peace of mind."

"I have it because it's a camera." I gave a sigh then turned to face her. "Can I talk to you, Liv?"

I could see the concern flickering on her face, although she tried to hide it. "We're pressed for time, Rollins. But we can talk after all this is over." She placed a hand on my shoulder. "I promise."

And so there I was that night, working Trixie's corner like a bonafide hooker. It took a couple of tries to get the other girls there to leave, my final try being bargaining. In a matter of seconds, I lost almost a hundred dollars, which brought back memories of gambling. I rolled my eyes as I watched them stuff the bills into their cleavage and bound down the road in fits of giggles. They seemed so carefree, a feeling I hadn't known since I was young, and even then it only came in small amounts. Seeing one parent abuse the other does things to a kid, like forces them into maturity so they can protect themselves and their loved ones.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and focused on the task at hand, scanning the area for any signs of Jimmy. Part of me wondered if maybe Trixie had tipped him off and he decided to skip town. I could already hear Liv's voice if that were the case. "Why would she tip-off her rapist?"

"I dunno," I mumbled. "Maybe he blackmailed her or did her a favor or maybe she felt bad because he isn't actually a rapist." My phone buzzed inside the borrowed purse. I took a quick peek since I didn't have much else to do.

Liv: Who are you talking to?

Groaning slightly I replied aloud, "Myself, sorry." I guess I hadn't realized I had been actually talking.

That's when I heard the whistled notes of an unfamiliar song on the other side of the literal corner I was leaning up against. Craning my neck, I found Jimmy strolling down the street dressed in dark blue jeans and a wife-beater. He was even uglier than his picture, his body wide and sweaty with hair everywhere except for a patch on his head, and he had a huge mole on his right cheek. He had looked at least decent in the picture, but age had taken its toll on him. But there was one little thing that the picture, and Trixie, had failed to mention. Jimmy liked to keep a Beretta 92 tucked into his waistband.