“Don’t worry about Evelyn – she won’t stay mad for long.”

“Who cares about Evelyn? I’m talking about Victor.”

Guff stopped. “Victor knows?”

“I assume so. Evelyn said Victor was the one who asked her about the case. Why? Is that bad?”

“Let’s put it this way: On the list of people you want mad at you, Victor’s last.”

“We have to get some help. Do you think you can find someone who’s friendly with Victor? Maybe they can help us make nice.”

“Let me make a few phone calls,” Guff said, heading for the door.

Guff’s departure from the office created a sudden silence. Sara’s eyes darted around the mostly bare room, and she was hit with a sense of vertigo. Feeling the walls close in on her, she put her head down on her desk, hoping to shut out reality. For almost a minute, it actually worked. Then the ringing of her phone brought back every one of her problems.

“This is Sara,” she answered. “If this is bad news, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Sounds like we’re having similar afternoons,” Jared said.

“If it’s possible, I think I’ve actually made things worse.” After explaining how she stole the leading ADA’s case, Sara added, “And now I’m stuck with this loser case and still can’t save my job.”

“I don’t understand one thing,” Jared said. “If it’s a nothing, little case, why was it marked for an office hotshot?”

“Some cop obviously wanted him on it.”

“Are you sure that’s it?”

“What’re you saying?” Sara asked, picking her head up.

“Cops aren’t that stupid. They know the big guns never take small cases.”

Sara replayed the facts in her head. “I never thought about it like that,” she said, her voice laced with excitement. “I mean, for all I know, this case is a gold mine.”

“Sara, be careful with this. Don’t get your hopes up abou-”

“You said it yourself,” she interrupted. “There has to be some reason this case was marked for Victor.”

“Wait a minute. Victor? As in Victor Stockwell?”

“Yeah. Do you know him?”

“Just by reputation.”

“Okay, but now you know what I’m saying – Victor’s name was on it for a reason.”

“But that doesn’t mean the case is a definite winner,” Jared pointed out. “If it was, he would’ve asked for it back.”

“Just because it wasn’t big enough for Victor doesn’t mean it’s not big enough for me.”

“Now you’re reaching,” he replied. “Have you asked your assistant about it? Maybe he has some ideas.”

“That’s the other issue,” Sara said, losing steam. “I told Guff I stole the case, but I never told him it was originally marked for Victor.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

“C’mon, Sara, I can read you like a coloring book.”

“It’s just that he put his faith in me. I don’t want to lose that trust.”

“That’s fine, but you have to turn it around. Take this case, make the most of it, and bring home a win. As far as I can tell, that’s the only way to keep your job.”

“No, you’re absolutely right. From here on in, I’m taking control.”

When she was off the phone, Sara once again felt the silence of the room. But instead of feeling trapped by it, she fought against it. This is it, she told herself. Turn it around or let it beat you down. She stood and walked out to Guff’s desk. “Any luck rounding up help?”

“Not yet,” Guff said. “How’re you holding up?”

“I think I’m finally ready to fight.”

“Really? What brought on the sudden change?”

“Nothing more than a little reality. And crazy as it sounds, I’m starting to have a good feeling about this case.”

With his fists wrapped tightly around the iron bars of his jail cell, Tony Kozlow had a difficult time keeping his voice to a whisper. “What do you mean she stole the case?”

“Just what I said,” Victor said, standing an arm’s length away from the cell. “She stole it. The case came in, she had access to it, and she took it. My guess is she must’ve seen my name on it and assumed it was a high-profile piece. Problem is, she grabbed a bore.”

“Don’t jerk me around,” Kozlow said. With dark hair, a thick black goatee, and a three-quarter-length black leather jacket, Tony Kozlow was what the DA’s office called a mutt. Low-class and easily riled, he was visibly annoyed by Victor’s tone. “Does Mr. Rafferty know about this?”

Victor stiffened. “Not yet. I haven’t been able to reach him. In fact, that’s the only reason I’m here – I thought he might be visiting you.”

“Him visit me?” Kozlow squinted at Victor. “Why don’t you take some advice and try him again.”

Calmly approaching the cell, Victor slid his right arm through the bars and grabbed the back of Kozlow’s neck. “Let me tell you something,” Victor said, holding Kozlow’s face against the iron bars of the cell. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t like it.”

Enraged, Kozlow shoved his hands through the iron bars, grabbed Victor by the ears, and rammed his face against the bars. “How’s this for a threat?” Kozlow shouted. “Touch me again and I’ll rip your head off!” Within seconds, a nearby guard ran to the cell and pulled Victor free. With his nightstick, he jabbed Kozlow in the stomach, sending him to his knees.

“Are you okay?” the guard asked Victor.

Without answering, Victor turned away from Kozlow’s cell and left the holding area.

“What the hell kind of deal is that?” Joel Rose screamed.

“That’s the best we could do,” Jared said with his eyes closed, cradling the phone receiver on his shoulder. From the moment he made the call, Jared knew he was going to have to brace himself for the worst. Lubetsky didn’t like the final amount of the settlement, but Joel Rose, president and CEO of Rose Microsystems, was the one who was going to have to pay it – which meant he liked the amount even less. Trying his best to sound happy with the result, Jared said, “And considering the alternative, that’s not too bad a number.”

“Really?” Rose asked. “Say that number again for me, Jared.”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Now listen to me, Jared. That number has eight syllables. And since more syllables usually means more money, eight syllables means a great deal of money. So once again, does that sound like a small number to you?”

“Mr. Rose, I know you didn’t want to pay that much, but it really is a fair deal – trust me, it could’ve come out much worse.”

“Trust you?” Rose’s voice boomed with fury. “This isn’t the damn Boy Scouts, it’s a – you know what? Put me on with Lubetsky. I’m sick of dealing with imbeciles.”

“Are you sure he’ll help us?” Sara asked as she sat down at her desk.

“When Conrad says he’s going to do something, he does it,” Guff replied.

“What’s his story?”

“Conrad Moore is an unbelievable prosecutor – one of the most respected in the office. More important, he’s the person I originally worked for when I started here. I asked him if he would give you some advice with the situation, and he said he’d be happy to.”

“That’s great,” she said. “Thank you, Guff.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until you meet him. He’s a bit intense.”

“What do you mean, intense?”

“For the past four years running, Conrad has had the largest trial caseload in the entire DA’s office. He goes to trial more than anyone.”

“Why?”

“It’s pretty simple – he never accepts a plea bargain. If you committed a crime, he’s going to send you to jail. Period. No negotiating, no pleading to a lower count, no favors. And since he gets great cases, he can afford to do it.”

“If he’s so busy, where’s he finding time to help me?”

“All I know is he just finished mentoring someone else, so when he said yes, I jumped at the opportunity.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll take it. When do we get started?”

Guff looked down at his watch. “He said he’d call right about-”