Where Jonathan Meriden was waiting for an elevator. In a dark topcoat over his suit and rep tie, carrying a boxy briefcase.

Damn. Cate never would have called Sorian if she’d known Meriden would overhear. She could feel him making a mental hatch mark in the WHY CATE IS A BAD JUDGE column, for fraternizing with the bar.

Mrs. Pershing was saying, “Mr. Sorian is at lunch, Judge. He should be back soon.”

“Please mention that I called. Thanks.”

“What is this in reference to?” Mrs. Pershing asked.

“Bye now,” Cate answered, and hung up rather than go with It’s about my secret sex life. The elevator arrived, and she stepped inside the cab behind Meriden. They went to opposite corners of the cab, like boxers. She didn’t want to speak to him, but she decided to be civil. “Hi, Jonathan.”

“Hello.” Meriden nodded as he hit the button for their floor. They both watched the orange elevator numbers change, with Cate thinking that lifetime tenure might be a long time not to speak to a person.

“Can this marriage be saved?” she asked, managing a smile, but Meriden’s mouth remained a flat line.

“What do you mean, Cate?”

“It was a joke.”

“Oh.” They watched the elevator number turn to seven, their eyes heavenward. “How’s Sorian doing?” Meriden asked, after a minute.

“Matt? I don’t know.”

“He and I go way back. He’s before me next week.” Meriden paused. “Do you see a lot of Matt?”

“No,” Cate answered, just as the elevator reached their floor and the stainless steel doors slid apart. She stepped off the elevator to the ringing of her cell phone. Matt?

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

“Not just yet.” Cate opened the door to chambers. Inside, an alarmed Val was standing up at her desk, on the phone.

“Oh my God, I was just calling you, Judge!” Val’s forehead was knitted with worry. Sam stood beside her, even paler than usual.

“What’s the matter?” Cate asked, entering, and before she could stop him, Meriden slipped in behind her.

Cate walked into her office, stunned at the sight. Debris lay everywhere. Case files had been opened and scattered over her conference table. Papers and bound briefs littered her floor. Casebooks had been pulled from the bookshelves, and cardboard boxes she had yet to unpack had been upended, their contents strewn onto the blue rug. Cate thanked God she had kept the chronology with her, in her purse.

“What happened here?” Meriden asked, aghast. He hovered over Cate’s shoulder, but she ignored him. She walked numbly to her desk and found all her drawers hanging open, as if they’d been searched. Even her blue mug had been knocked over, spilling coffee onto her papers. Cate stood by her desk, still in her coat.

“It’s my fault, Judge Fante.” Val stepped forward, her brown-patterned dress flowing around her. “I shouldn’t have gone to lunch.”

“You’re entitled to eat, Val.” Cate remembered that Emily would still be at Jenkins. She turned to Sam. “Were you here? Did you go out for lunch?”

“I’m really sorry, Judge,” Sam answered. He was almost hyperventilating, and his forehead had taken on an unhappy sheen. “I mean, I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t think this would happen. I’ve been trying so hard to do better and I’m so sorry-”

Meriden interrupted, “This is a major security breach.”

“Jonathan, I can handle it,” Cate said, stepping closer to Sam, but Meriden shook his head.

“We need to call the FBI, right now. This is an attack on a federal judge, on federal property.”

“Let me find out what happened first.” Cate turned to Sam, feeling Meriden’s stare boring into her back. “Sam, slow down, take a breath, and explain to me what happened.”

“No matter what I do I screw up!”

“Breathe, Sam,” Cate said, and the law clerk inhaled on command, his skinny chest heaving under his gray crewneck sweater.

“Okay, well. Everybody else was out and I was working in my office. I heard the buzzer, so I came out to see who it was, and there was a man there, on the monitor.” Sam breathed again, visibly. “He pressed the intercom and identified himself as Detective Russo, and I knew it was really him, because I recognized him from the trial. So I thought I could let him in. I was sure it was okay to let him in. I mean, he’s a detective.”

Russo. It had to have been him, breaking into the house.

Meriden scoffed. “Did Detective Russo have an appointment?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Never buzz anybody into chambers without an appointment, no matter who they are! That’s a hard and fast rule in my-”

Cate put a hand on the sleeve of Meriden’s cashmere coat. “I said, I can handle my clerks.”

“Then when will you start?” Meriden exploded. “They buzz anybody in. My chambers are on this floor, too. That detective could as easily have ransacked my office as yours!”

“How do you know he didn’t? Better go and check. I’ll try to handle this without your guidance.”

“This is absurd!” Meriden turned and stalked to the door, then stopped when he reached Sam. “If you worked for me, you’d be on the street, son.”

Sam shook in his penny loafers, Val gasped, and Cate’s emotions finally broke loose. “How dare you!” she shouted. “Get out of my chambers!”

Meriden spun around, his split coattails flying, one chasing the other. “What did you say?”

“I said, get out of my chambers. Now.”

“How distinctly uncollegial of you, Judge Fante.”

“You manage your clerks, I’ll manage mine.” Cate strode past him to her office door and held it open, even though it already was. “Good-bye.”

Meriden stormed out of the office, and Cate slammed the door behind him.

“That was fun,” she said, brightening. She felt better, even standing amid the debris. It was the same feeling as when she’d said “my courtroom” to Gina. She found herself grinning.

Val said, “You shouldn’t have done that. But, way to go!” She broke into a smile.

“Thanks, Judge.” Sam’s bassett-hound eyes looked wet, and Cate felt for him.

“Don’t worry, Sam. Now, let’s get back to the story. Russo was in the hallway.”

“You’re not gonna fire me?”

“No. Now tell me about letting Russo in. What did he say on the intercom?”

“Just who he was.” Sam wet his lips with a dry tongue, starting his story over. “Also, I let him in because the chief judge had sent around a court-mail this morning, saying that the security threat had been lifted, now that Marz was dead, and, thirdly, I remembered that this morning, when that other detective came here, Nesbitt I think his name was, that Val asked you if she could buzz him in, and you said, ‘Of course.’”

“You’re right, I said that.” Cate slid out of her coat and placed it on her desk chair.

“So I thought, of course, of course, Detective Russo can come in, too. I didn’t know he’d do anything like this. He’s law enforcement.” Sam threw up his matchstick arms, bewildered. “I mean, quis custodiet ipsos custodes?”

“What?” Cate asked.

“He’s hysterical,” Val said.

“It’s Latin,” Sam answered, evidently feeling more himself. “The translation is, Who guards the guards? The Roman poet Juvenal famously posed the question in the first century.”

“But why did you let him wait in my office, Sam?” Cate asked, mystified. After all, Juvenal wouldn’t have.

“I didn’t. He said that he needed to see you, about your security. He said he’d only come back to chambers because you weren’t on the bench. That you were supposed to be in court at eleven-thirty.”

“Okay,” Cate said slowly. So Russo had checked the schedule downstairs.

“He said the security threat was from a man, an ex-convict, and he asked me if I’d ever seen the man in chambers or in your courtroom. He showed me a photo.”