I took the opportunity to take a shower and get dressed while he was gone. When I exited the bathroom buttoning my blouse, I was met with the undeniable scent of frying bacon. When I walked into the kitchen I discovered Aiden working two pans on the stove top, bacon and eggs, and putting on a pair of oven mitts to take the biscuits out of the oven. He turned to me and grinned.

"Kelsey let me back in on her way out,” he said.

"What did you do?" I asked in astonishment.

"I made you breakfast," he insisted. "That's what I did. The biscuits came from a can, but we were on a time crunch. Next time I'll make them from scratch. But watch. You'll do great today in court. Better than you ever will have done before."

So he can cook more than just fish.

"All because of your breakfast,” I said.

"Yup."

He leaned over and kissed me before grabbing a couple of plates out of the cabinet. We ate together at the counter sill laughing over the absurdity of our morning, and he headed off to shower and change.

We discussed the idea of arriving a few minutes apart from each other to the court house, but settled on just getting there when we got there. We were in separate vehicles after all.

"Besides," I said. "I think Ms. Klein is on to us already."

The trial continued with remarkable success in the following days. The senior partners met up with us as we arrived at the court house and as always we awaited the summons from the bailiff. We had received word that the test results had returned with the DNA found underneath the victim's finger nails. The results supported our theory, and both of the senior partners agreed that we would be close to a verdict soon. My task for the day was to resume my questions regarding the test results.

"I'd like to call Detective Roger Ingram to the stand,” I said as I stood, upon the judge’s invitation.

Prosecution hadn’t had anything new, and so the line of questioning defaulted to the defense, to us. I waited the appropriate time while the detective was sworn in. Then I turned and picked up the test results, several eight by ten pages tucked into a clear plastic binder, the most important page moved to the top to be read with ease.

"Detective," I began, turning my body to include the jury with my voice.

The audience had filled out considerably as news of the police oversight had spread. Court junkies, local online activists and family members of both families filled the wooden benches across the small barrier. I handed the test results to Detective Ingram.

"Do you care to tell the court what document I have just handed to you?"

"Yes." He shifted his weight as if the gaze of the entire room upon him caused him pain. "This is a test result on some DNA."

"Specifically which DNA."

"The DNA found at the crime scene."

"Where, specifically was the DNA found?" I said, turning to look him right in the eye.

I had seen the pictures of Rita Shaw's body. I hadn’t intention of easing up on his discomfort.

"Underneath her fingernails,” he said.

I walked over and stood behind the chair in which sat Darius Shaw, who watched the exchange with wide eyes.

"Do you care to read to the courtroom what the test was for, specifically?" I asked.

"The test is to determine the match between the DNA found and that of Darius Shaw,” he said.

"Thank you, Detective," I said. "Before we continue, indulge me with some information first. You have been working in homicide for a long time. Isn't that so?"

"Yes, that is so,” he said.

"Would you say that it is safe to assume that the DNA found underneath the finger nails of Rita Shaw to be that of the killer?"

He murmured something indistinguishable.

"I'm sorry?" I said, making a show of being unable to hear what he had said.

"That is a fair assumption, yes,” he said in a louder tone.

"Would you care to read to the courtroom what the results say, as to whether the DNA belongs to our client, Darius Shaw? Specifically, do the test results match?"

He paused and shifted once more in his seat, with his eyes cast low. "No they do not."

"So the DNA found under the finger nails of the victim, Rita Shaw, does not match the DNA of our client Darius Shaw. Is that what I understand you to be saying?"

"Yes, that is correct,” he said.

"Is it even possible," I continued. "That the DNA found belongs to anyone related to our client, Darius Shaw?"

"No,” he mumbled.

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"No, it is not possible."

"No further questions,” I said, giving the jury my best Pollyanna smile as I walked the length of the court room, circling around the table as I took my seat.

I glanced over to the senior partners who both looked at me with approval, nodding and smiling. Ms. Klein gave me a subtle wink.

I glanced over to the prosecution. The entire team of lawyers scrambled through their notes with wide panicked eyes. The judge crossed his hands while waiting for their response. Finally the lead prosecutor stood.

"The prosecution would like to request a twenty-four hour recess,” he said trying to act cool, but I could see the slight tremble in his hands as he spoke.

"Granted."

The judge lifted the gavel and brought it down with a pop. The bailiff took over at that point and excused the jury and then the rest of us. Ms. Klein leaned over to me.

"Excellent work Ms. Michaels,” she whispered.

"I have to be honest," I said. "Aiden was the one who discovered the test was missing. My part was developing the line of questions. We worked on it together."

"Team work pays off once again,” she said with a knowing glance.

As soon as she and Mr. Mahoney had left the room, Aiden stepped to my side. He acted as if he were going through his notes and spoke in such a way that only I could hear him.

"Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?" he asked. "I think we have this case in the bag."

"I think so too," I said. "Dinner sounds great."

"Great," he said.

The look in his eye, such boyish optimism. Maybe Aiden had been right, I thought. Maybe this wasn't the best of circumstances, but maybe we would be okay after all.

I felt like I walked on clouds as we headed out of the courtroom. The senior partners had stopped in the hallway to confer over something before they left and saw us walk out together.

"Aiden," Mr. Mahoney said from across the hall. "Would you care to come by the office for a moment before your day ends?"

"No, not at all,” he said.

I couldn’t help but wonder what they might be meeting about, and why I hadn’t been included in the invitation.

Aiden turned to me as we reached the parking lot. "I'll pick you up around seven?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, bringing my mind back to the present. "That works for me."

He trotted off to his car as I watched after him. I tried not to let the disheartening feeling ruin my mood. I had recently decided that I would be happy if Aiden got the job. He deserved it, much to my chagrin. Initially I had hoped that my competition might be a shady bottom feeder that I could easily outperform, instead I had gotten Aiden Player.

Sweet, stubborn, charming, and despite the gap in our acquaintance probably knew me better than anyone on the planet, aside from my mother.

I still wanted the job, and I hadn’t conceded yet.

Nor would I, I decided.