Melanie had guessed Ramirez would tattle to Bernadette, but still it infuriated her.

“It was an accident. I mean, it was a coincidence,” she sputtered as Bernadette fixed her with a cold stare. “I live right near there. I was out for a walk, and I happened to go by and see the fire trucks.”

“You just happened to be out for a walk?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you out walking at ten o’clock at night?”

“My baby couldn’t sleep. I thought a stroll would help.”

Bernadette leaned back in her chair, seeming to accept her answer, but then sat up suddenly, jabbing her finger at Melanie. “Lieutenant Ramirez claims you said I sent you!”

“I never said that! I was careful to avoid saying that, in fact. It looked like an important case, so I wanted to grab it for us, Bern, before the state got it. Be aggressive, take a page from your book. So I bluffed him. Pretended I was supposed to be there. If he thought I was just passing by with my baby stroller, he never would’ve given me the time of day.”

“So you felt that justified going outside the chain of command? Doing this without consulting me?”

“I thought it was what you would want me to do.”

“Hmmmph. Well. You put me in a difficult position, girlfriend. Two of my favorite management principles are in conflict here. Do you know what they are?”

“No.” She hated the meekness in her voice. Bernadette could always do this to her, reduce her to a timid little mouse. And Melanie was not easily intimidated.

“Principle number one: punish insubordination. Principle number two: reward initiative. Do you see how your actions force me to choose between them?”

“Yes.” She despised her own weakness. But what could she do, not answer Bernadette’s rhetorical questions? That would read like rebellion.

“I can’t have my people running around this city barging into crime scenes without my permission. I bring in the business around here. I make the assignments. I maintain the relationships with the bosses at NYPD and the federal agencies. Not you, not anyone else in this unit. Me. Is that understood?”

“Of course, one hundred percent, Bern. I wasn’t trying-”

“But having said that, I do try to teach you people to be go-getters, and your instincts were right in this instance. We should have this case. Jed was one of ours, after all. His murder should be ours.” Her voice cracked slightly, reminding Melanie that the victim wasn’t just any corpse.

“Bernadette,” Melanie interjected, “I was at the scene last night. I have knowledge nobody else-”

Bernadette held up her hand. “Quiet, please, I’m thinking!”

Seconds passed as Melanie sat in suspense, waiting for Bernadette’s verdict. Her boss’s lips twitched into a sly smile.

“Pop-quiz time, girlfriend. How are you planning to federalize this murder charge?”

Melanie hadn’t had one second to hit the books since stumbling across the Benson crime scene last night, but she could fake it when she needed to.

“Well, it depends on how the facts unfold, but there are several possibilities. May I borrow your code book?”

Bernadette reached back to her credenza, where several fat paperback volumes stood upright between metal bookends. She yanked out one called Federal Criminal Code and Rules and handed it across the desk to Melanie. Melanie opened it, pretending she had a plan, doing her best to keep her face blank but feeling herself flush as Bernadette watched her. Bernadette must have been working on a RICO case recently, because she’d tabbed the racketeering statute. The book naturally fell open to it.

“Here’s an option,” Melanie said, straining for a perky, confident tone. “Section 1959. Murder in aid of racketeering.”

“Okay, but you’d have to prove up a racketeering enterprise. Not easy. Keep going. See anything else?”

Melanie flipped pages, trying not to look nervous. “We could use Section 1958. Murder-for-hire. It’s a federal crime as long as interstate telephone lines are used and there’s evidence of payment. Or the drug-murder statute, if we can link the perpetrator to narcotics.”

Bernadette raised her eyebrows, smiling broadly, enjoying watching Melanie scramble. “You’re really reaching with those. Your first shot was your best one, even if you only picked it because I had the statute marked. Give me the book, hon,” Bernadette said, chuckling.

Melanie handed it back to her, spirits soaring at the sudden warmth in Bernadette’s voice. “The point is, Bern, we have options. Something’ll stick, I’m positive.”

“You think on your feet, and I like that. Look, I’m gonna be frank. Your gutsiness last night weighs in your favor, but it’s not necessarily enough. Normally I wouldn’t consider handing you a case of this magnitude. It’s not a matter of talent. You’re good in front of a jury. You have a good head for investigation. But you’ve never been in the spotlight before. You’ve only done basic bread-and-butter stuff. And what’s more, you’re not performing up to your abilities right now.”

“What do you mean?” Cold anxiety flooded her chest again. An encounter with Bernadette was always a roller-coaster ride.

“Well, honestly, I question your commitment to the job. You have a new baby at home. That may be a big deal for you, but it’s no excuse as far as I’m concerned. I’m very aware of when my people come in, when they leave, how many weekends they’re putting in, that sort of thing. I don’t see you here as much as I’d like to.”

“My husband’s been traveling recently, so a lot’s fallen on me at home, but that can change. I can get extra baby-sitting if I need to. I’ll put in whatever time is required, I promise.”

“We’re talking a lot of time. Like, bring-a-toothbrush-because-you’ll-be-sleeping-here kind of time.”

“Understood. I can do it, Bernadette. Just give me a chance.”

Bernadette cupped her chin in her hand and gazed at Melanie. “Hmm. You’re hot for this case, I’ll say that for you. And the politics would certainly work out well.”

“Politics?”

“Yeah. The front office wants Joe Williams on this case. Joe’s close to the big boss. You know how the black prosecutors stick together. I’d have a spy in my midst. No way am I gonna let that happen. Politically, I think I can push you as an alternative, because you’re a twofer.”

“A twofer?”

“Yeah, you know, two for the price of one? Hispanic and female? A new mom to boot? We promote pregnant women, that sort of thing?”

“I’m not pregnant.”

“But you were.”

“And I’m only half Puerto Rican. I mean, I grew up in a Puerto Rican neighborhood and all, but my mother is Italian.”

“Well, don’t go around telling people that.”

Melanie laughed in astonishment, then fell silent. She could barely muster words to respond. She hated taking advantage of her heritage at work, playing it up to get a case. She was a talented prosecutor. Bernadette should choose her because she deserved the assignment, not because of her last name or her dark hair and eyes. Playing ethnic politics like that made her uncomfortable. How many times had she sat in court and realized that, going by looks, she could be the defendant’s sister or girlfriend? Not that the shared ethnicity made her sympathetic. Quite the opposite. She knew better than anybody how crime ravaged her neighborhood.

“I don’t see what anybody’s ethnic background has to do with deciding who’s the best prosecutor for the case,” she protested.

“Oh, you don’t, Miss Priss? Spare me! All that stuff matters big-time these days. How else do you think I can spin your appointment, given how junior you are? It’s our best shot.”

Shekeya buzzed Bernadette with an important phone call, so Melanie had a minute to think. She couldn’t believe it, but she was getting cold feet. This was starting to seem like a bad idea. Not only was she overwhelmed at home, but the Benson case was a minefield. Bernadette would be watching her like a hawk. If things got to be too much, she could take a spectacular fall.