“He came in about ten minutes ago and asked specifically for you. He’s waiting in the conference room.”

“Wait a minute,” Jared said. “Is this some kind of practical joke to make me feel better?”

“No joke. You wanted new clients, you got ’em. He said you came recommended by a friend. If you’d like, I’ll bring him to your office.”

“That’d be great,” Jared said, his pulse racing. “In fact, that’d be downright fantastic.”

Two minutes later, Kathleen returned to Jared’s office with a tall, gaunt, dark-haired man in tow. “Jared, this is Mr. Kozlow,” she said as she stepped into the room.

“Call me Tony,” the man said, extending a hand to Jared.

“Like the cartoon tiger,” Jared joked.

“Exactly,” Kozlow smiled. “Just like the tiger.”

“You don’t think there’s anything fishy about Kozlow having such a high-paid attorney?” Sara asked Conrad when she stopped by his office in the early afternoon.

“Not at all,” Conrad said. “It happens all the time. These mutts have money stashed in a sock drawer for just this occasion.”

“And what about the fact that his lawyer was from my old law firm? I mean, there’re thousands of firms in this city. Don’t you think it’s a little more than a coincidence that they picked mine?”

“Sara, it’s time for you to take a breath and calm down. I know you have a lot of emotion invested in this case, but when that happens, you run the risk of losing perspective. Trust me, I know exactly what you’re going through: When I started here, I wanted every single one of my cases to be front-page material. But sometimes you have to admit that all you have is a footnote that would barely make the high school newspaper.”

“So you think I’m just imagining things?”

“All I’m saying is you should stop worrying about Kozlow’s wallet and start worrying about his case. You have a grand jury coming up next Monday.”

“Not to mention four other cases to deal with,” Sara added.

“Speaking of which, how’d they go this morning?”

“The arraignments? Like last night, but faster. The drug possession and one of the shoplifters were both first-time offenders, so they walked on their own recognizance. Then I got two thousand apiece for the pickpocket and the other shoplifter.”

“I take it they had histories?”

“Almost fifty arrests between them. And the pickpocket? If you can believe it, his name is Marion.”

“Don’t make fun of ‘Marion.’ That’s John Wayne’s real name.”

Tilting her head slightly, Sara studied Conrad. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Did you just make a joke?”

“John Wayne’s never a joke, ma’am.”

Sara laughed. “Okay, I’ll let you have one. That’s fair,” she said. “But according to his record, John Wayne the Pickpocket has twenty-three prior arrests, and he swears he didn’t do any of them – which I guess at least makes him consistent. The shoplifter’s not far behind.”

“Okay, so it sounds like you can plead out the first two. As far as the others, you’re going to have to see what their lawyers say. Don’t get too caught up in them, though. Your time’s better spent preparing Kozlow’s indictment.”

“Then can I ask you one last question? What’d the judge mean by a 180.80 day?”

Conrad paused, his brow furrowed. “Didn’t they teach you anything in that law firm?”

“All I did was civil work. Now cut me some slack.”

“Here’s your slack. A 180.80 day is shorthand for the day by which you have to indict the defendant if he’s locked up. But since Kozlow posted bail, you only have to worry about the grand jury, where-”

“I know what happens at a grand jury.”

“You sure?”

“You don’t let up, do you?” Sara asked with a grin. “At the grand jury, I’ll have to convince twelve average citizens to indict Kozlow on the burglary charge. If they indict, then the trial can take place. If they don’t-”

“If they don’t, then you’re not going anywhere with this case.”

Walking back to her office, Sara thought about Conrad’s advice. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was hoping too hard for front-page material. Maybe Kozlow had just stashed away some money. And maybe she was becoming a victim of her own imagination. But no matter how much she tried to downplay the facts, she kept coming back to one key piece of information: Kozlow’s case had originally been marked for Victor.

Nearing her office, she noticed that Guff wasn’t at his desk. She also noticed that her office door was ajar, even though she knew she had left it closed. She remembered Conrad’s advice about ADA offices: Lock everything – confidentiality is paramount, and eyes have a tendency to wander. Through the translucent glass of her door, she could see the fuzzy figure of someone sitting at her desk. She quickly looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was around. Since it was close to lunch, the hallways were relatively empty. Hesitantly, she opened the door. Victor was waiting for her.

“Can I help you?” she asked, unnerved.

“No,” Victor said. “Just wanted to see how your case was going.”

“How’d you get into my office?”

“It was open. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Actually, I do.”

“I’ll be more considerate next time. Now tell me how it’s going.”

“Why?” she asked defensively. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Sara.”

“Then why’re you sneaking in here and trying your best to intimidate me?” She hoped her bluntness would catch him off guard. It didn’t.

“That’s a pretty impressive imagination. You should be careful it doesn’t get the best of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sara asked.

“It means exactly what I said: Be careful. At this rate, you can’t afford any more mistakes.”

“Is that what you came to tell me?”

“Sara, the only reason I’m here is because you took a case while I was supervising. Now I don’t care how desperate you were, or how you got Conrad to kiss your ass, but if you ever do that again, I guarantee one thing: I’ll be all over you.”

She didn’t want to admit it, but of course he was right. “I’m sorry. I-”

“Save the crying. I don’t care.” Victor got up from his seat and walked to the door. “But if I were you, I’d watch my back. You never know when the ax will fall.”

As Victor left, Guff entered Sara’s office. “What was that about?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“He didn’t sound too happy on the way out.”

“He was thrilled. I could tell by the way he threatened me. Now, any other bad news before I head out to lunch?”

“Actually, yes,” Guff said, waving a two-page fax. “This just came through. It’s a notice of attorney. Apparently, Kozlow has retained a new lawyer.”

“So?”

“So, look at the new lawyer’s name and tell me if it’s familiar.”

She skimmed the memo, then jumped to the signature at the bottom. When she read her husband’s name, she sank into her chair. “I can’t believe it. Can he even do this?”

“I don’t know,” Guff said. “I’ve certainly never seen it before.”

“He has to drop the case,” Sara said. She picked up her phone and dialed Jared’s number. When Kathleen answered, Sara asked to speak to her husband.

“You just missed him. He said he was meeting you for lunch. Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine.” Sara hung up the phone and bolted out of the office.

Guff tailed behind, following her down the hall. “What do you want me to do while you’re gone?”

“Find out if this kind of thing is even allowed. The last person I want to face in this case is my husband.”

Twenty minutes later, Jared’s cab dropped him off in front of Forlini’s, which was not only the closest Italian restaurant to the courthouse, but also the most popular. He stuffed a ten-dollar bill in the driver’s hand and strode into the restaurant. “Hey, beautiful,” he said to Sara, excited to share the good news with his wife.