“You didn’t have to…”

He trailed off as Sara darted to the bedroom and returned with her leather briefcase. “Here,” she said, handing it to Jared as she sat down next to him.

“You’re giving me your briefcase?”

“Your present’s inside. I didn’t have time to wrap it, so I thought I’d pretend the briefcase was a box. Work with me – use your imagination.”

“What a wonderful box,” Jared said as he admired the briefcase. He quickly opened it and pulled out a red, white, and blue metallic pinwheel.

“I told you it wasn’t special,” Sara said. “One of the homeless guys was selling them on the subway. You have to read the words on the stick, though – it says ‘Welcome to the Puerto Rico.’”

“I love it,” Jared said, blowing on his present. As the pinwheel spun, his smile returned to his face. “This is great. I mean it. Go, the Puerto Rico!”

Laughing, Sara took him by the hand and helped him up from the sofa. Dragging him back to the kitchen, she said, “And wait until you see what I made for dinner.” When they were standing in front of the stove, she said, “Close your eyes.”

“I know what you made. I smelled it the moment I got-”

“Quiet. Close your eyes.” When he obliged, she added, “Stick out your tongue.” As Jared followed her directions, Sara dipped her finger in the homemade sauce. She then brushed her finger across his tongue. “How’s that taste?”

“For the record, that was the most blatant sexual come-on you’ve ever employed.”

“So? Did it work?”

“It always works,” Jared said with a grin. Keeping his eyes closed, he felt Sara’s hands around his neck. She pulled him close and kissed him. First on the mouth. Then on the tip of his chin. Then down to his neck. Along the way, she loosened his tie and undid the top buttons of his shirt. He did the same thing to the buttons of her blouse. “Do you want to stay here or go into the-”

“Here,” Sara said as she pressed him against the counter. “Right here.”

“WHAT’D YOU THINK?” SARA ASKED.

“Are you kidding? It was incredible. That part when you were up on the countertop…”

“I’m talking about dinner, dreamboat.” Wearing only a T-shirt, Sara sat at the kitchen table across from Jared, who had put on a pair of sweatpants.

“Oh,” Jared said. He stared down at his empty plate. “It was great. Everything was great. Especially you.”

“Don’t give away all the compliments; you deserve half the credit,” Sara said, reaching across the table to hold his hand. “By the way, what time is it?”

“Why? You got a date?”

“Yeah. A date with Justice. I have to get back to the courthouse. My arraignment’s supposed to come up at around eleven.”

“Oh, God – your case,” Jared said. “I’m so sorry, I meant to ask you more about it. I’ve just been so caught up in-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sara said. “The case is fine. Well, maybe it’s fine. Actually, it probably isn’t fine, it’s a squeaker. I think it can definitely work out, though. Maybe. If I’m lucky.”

“Sounds like you can’t lose.”

“Don’t make fun. You know how I get under pressure: peaks and valleys, peaks and valleys. When I got the case, I was on top of the world; an hour later, I was out of my skin, terrified about my job; an hour after that, I was learning the ropes, obsessed, but somehow confident; and when I got home, I thought it was all going my way.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m back in the valley. Not only am I nervous about the case, I’m worried about how I got it. You should’ve seen me this afternoon. Staring at that stupid little folder, I was in a complete panic. And when that split second came when I had to decide whether I was going to take it – I felt like it was my only chance.” Pulling away from her husband, Sara stood up. “Tell me the truth. Was it wrong for me to take the case like that?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Jared said in his usual diplomatic tone. Deep down, Sara knew he was avoiding the question, but she wasn’t in the mood to hear his lecture. It’d be the same as always: When it came to work, her husband kept it on the straight and narrow. “All that matters is how you feel.”

“I feel terrible. Now that the adrenaline’s gone, I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like this gnawing ghost that’s floating around in my stomach. And the worst part is, I’m not sure why I’m upset: is it because I know it was wrong to take it, or simply because I got caught with it?”

“Listen, you can’t change the past. You saw it, you grabbed it, and now you have to live with it. Besides, the way you described it, it sounds like no one in the office even cared that you stole it.”

“Except for Victor. I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Speaking of which, have you told your assistant that it was Victor’s case in the first place?”

“Not yet. We were running around all afternoon, so there really wasn’t time. Besides, I don’t think I’m going to tell him just yet – I want to do a bit more digging before I put that relationship at risk.”

“You still think there might be something else at play?”

“I’m not sure,” Sara said, picking up her blue pantsuit from the floor. “But if this isn’t a Victor-level case, I have no idea how it’s going to save my job.”

When Sara was finished re-dressing for her late-night arraignment, she headed for the door.

“Good luck,” Jared called out. “Make ’em suffer.”

“You don’t have to worry,” Sara said. “The defense is in for some serious hurt.”

At precisely ten-thirty, Sara entered 100 Centre. At the courtroom that was reserved for arraignments, she was surprised to see Guff leaning against the courtroom door.

“What are you doing here?” Sara asked. “You didn’t have to come.”

“You’re my boss,” Guff said. “Where you go, I follow.”

“Well, thanks, Guff. I really appreciate the support. Now we just have to wait for-”

“ADA Tate! What are you charging him with?” a voice boomed from down the hallway.

“Burglary in the second degree,” Sara barked back while Conrad was still thirty feet away.

When the burly prosecutor reached his two colleagues, he asked, “And why’d you choose that?”

“Because burglary in the first degree requires a weapon, or a dangerous instrument, or a physical injury to a victim, and there’s no indication of any of those here.”

“Isn’t that also required for burglary in the second?” Conrad challenged.

“Not if the building is a dwelling,” Sara said, her voice gaining confidence. “And according to the definitions section, 201 East Eighty-second Street is definitely a dwelling. The victim sleeps there every night. I called her myself.”

Conrad smiled. “Good for you. Now what about criminal trespass? Why not charge him with that?”

“Because by taking the watch, the golf ball, and the four hundred dollars, the defendant committed a crime, making criminal trespass too light a charge.”

“What about robbery?”

“According to the cop, there was no force used. That ruled out robbery.”

“And what about breaking and entering?” Conrad asked.

“That’s where you were bullshitting me,” Sara said. “In New York, there’s no such thing as breaking and entering.”

“Are you sure?”

Sara stared him down. “Of course I’m sure. It took me an hour to figure that one out. Now can we go inside and get this sucker started?”

“You’re the boss,” Conrad said, gesturing toward the door.

Because of the late hour, Sara expected to find the courtroom mostly empty. But as she stepped inside, she was surprised to see it filled with prosecutors, police officers, court employees, defense attorneys, and recently arrested defendants. Prosecutors sat on the right side of the room, defense attorneys on the left. Defendants were held in a waiting room outside the courtroom until their case was about to be called, and in the center of the courtroom, the judge presided over each arraignment, which usually lasted four or five minutes. In that time, the charges were announced and bail was set.