“Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t look up from his laptop. He was deep into his work, editing the motion she’d written to compel Madeleine’s documents.
Anna kept reading and stewing. She needed a fuller picture of the business—especially of Caroline’s johns—before she would feel confident that they had the right guy. She wasn’t about to let Madeleine decide which lines in her record books were relevant and which could be redacted.
“It’s ridiculous,” she said. “This is a murder investigation.”
Jack looked up. “Anna, what have I been telling you from the beginning? Don’t worry about what people are saying. It’ll always be something. You just do the right thing. Keep your head down, ignore the hype, do your job.”
She nodded, admiring his steadiness. He was so much better than she was at focusing on what was really important. But his advice was easier to follow if you were already a legal star. Unlike Jack, she was still building her reputation. It mattered what people said about her.
She pushed herself away from the computer and rolled her chair to the conference table. As she flipped through her legal pad, a small flower fell out. A sprig of lavender had been pressed between the pages. She appreciated both Jack’s gesture and the fact that he’d done it discreetly.
“Thank you,” she said quietly to him.
He smiled at her. His smile still had the ability to make her heart do a little flip-flop.
Jack e-filed the motion to compel Madeleine’s records. After he pressed send, he turned to her again. She expected him to head home. It was a little after six P.M., and he usually tried to be home by seven to eat dinner and spend time with Olivia before the little girl went to bed.
Instead, he said, “McGee’s bringing the ring to the Tiny Jewel Box tonight. Want to meet him there?”
“What about that whole ‘let the cops do their thing, we’ll do ours’ lecture you gave me?” Anna looked at him curiously.
“We did our thing. Our motion is filed.” He smiled at her. “I just thought it would be fun.”
She agreed. Her favorite part of the job was going out with the police and talking to witnesses. They gathered their stuff, headed to the elevators, and rode down to the first floor.
As they stepped out of the steel doors and into the USAO lobby, Anna saw Eva Youngblood coming in through security. The self-defense instructor picked up her purse from the X-ray conveyor belt and waved at them.
“Well, hello. It’s my two favorite prosecutors,” Eva said. “Anna, are you coming to class tonight?”
“I have to miss it again. We’re working on a pretty intense investigation.”
“That poor girl killed at the Capitol?”
Anna nodded.
Eva turned to Jack. “I’m sorry if our friendship is causing you trouble on this case. Dylan didn’t mean to put you in the crosshairs by praising you. He just thinks the world of you, that’s all. Now I hear Lionel wants you off the case.”
“I’ll be fine,” Jack said. “It’s nothing I haven’t handled before.”
“Do you think that woman, the madam, will have to give you all her escort agency records?”
“We can’t comment,” Jack said. “It’s a grand jury investigation.”
“Of course.” Eva pushed the button for the elevator. “I bet there’re a lot of nervous heads on Capitol Hill tonight.”
The Tiny Jewel Box was D.C.’s iconic jewelry store, where the wealthy and stylish went for baubles. Anna had passed the signature red awnings countless times while walking on Connecticut Avenue. She’d never had a reason to go inside.
The bells tinkled lightly as she and Jack stepped out of the noisy city heat and into the cool, quiet store. Crystal chandeliers illuminated ivory-and-glass cases full of sparkling jewelry. The salespeople were dressed in suits one notch finer than most lawyers’. Anna watched a salesman hand a velvet tray of David Yurman pendants to an older gentleman who looked vaguely familiar.
“These are the ones on your wife’s wish list, Ambassador,” the salesman said.
Anna felt intimidated and out of place. Her dad had been an autoworker in Flint before he was laid off and descended into alcohol-fueled tirades; her mom became a medical assistant after she finally left him. The fanciest place Anna had shopped growing up was Meijer, a downmarket version of Target. When she went to law school, she kept herself reined to a tight student budget. Here in D.C., she lived modestly on the salary of a government worker who was paying back law-school loans. She’d graduated from Meijer to Ann Taylor, but her specialty was scouring the sales racks for suits marked down from $299 to $59.99.
Jack seemed perfectly comfortable in the fancy store. He waved Anna over to a jewelry case and pointed to a display of engagement rings setting off a blaze of glitters. She looked for ones that were similar to the ring McGee had found on Lionel’s balcony. But Jack pointed to a completely different model. “Do you like this one?” he asked her.
She looked at him, first puzzled, then panicked. Had he initiated this outing as part of the case development or to gauge her reaction to different styles of engagement rings? Suddenly, the room felt too hot.
A grandmotherly saleswoman came over. “May I help you?”
“Can we see this ring?” Jack asked.
“A wonderful choice,” the saleswoman said. “As soon as you came in, I could tell you were a couple in love.”
“We’re actually here from the U.S. Attorney’s Office,” Anna said quickly. “Part of an investigation. We have an appointment with the owner, Matthew Rosenheim.”
“Ah. I’ll get Mr. Rosenheim for you.”
The saleswoman hurried off. Anna could sense Jack’s disappointment. She continued to look down at the jewelry, now to avoid making eye contact with him. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about the style of engagement ring she liked.
The grandmotherly woman returned. “Come right this way,” she said. “Mr. Rosenheim will see you in the Red Room.”
Anna noticed the other customers watching them walk through the store. An old lady looking at brooches gave them the stink-eye; Anna occasionally got these looks of disapproval as one half of a mixed-race couple. A middle-aged woman smiled at them and whispered to her friend, “Beautiful couple.” That was slightly better, but Anna didn’t want to hear any comments, positive or negative, on how she and Jack appeared together. We’re prosecutors, people, she thought. Here on a very important case. Jack seemed amused by the attention.
The Red Room was a romantic room with red walls and another crystal chandelier. She and Jack waited in carved chairs before a cherrywood table. Sitting there, she found it hard not to feel like they were a couple about to embark on a romantic journey together. She looked everywhere but at Jack’s face.
Detective McGee came into the room with the store owner. Matthew Rosenheim was a smiling, elegant man who looked like he’d be comfortable showing earbobs to the Duchess of Cambridge. He greeted them cordially and took a seat. Jack explained that they’d found a ring in the course of a homicide investigation.
“It appears to be from your store,” Jack said. “We’re hoping you might be able to tell us who bought it.”
McGee took out the plastic evidence bag and handed it to Matthew. The store owner looked at the ring through the clear plastic.
“Yes, that certainly looks like one of our rings. The TJB stamp is right here.”
“Can you tell who bought this particular ring?”
“It’s quite possible. But we are committed to the privacy of our customers. If we’re given a subpoena, we will of course comply with it, but without that, I’m afraid I can’t divulge personal information about our clients.”
Anna had anticipated that. She handed him the subpoena she’d typed for this purpose. The store owner looked at it and nodded. “Very well. May we take the ring out of the bag?”
McGee sliced the bag open, made a quick note on the chain-of-custody log stapled to it, then handed the ring to Matthew. It had
already been dusted for fingerprints.
Matthew took the ring like a nurse in the delivery ward of a hospital, with great care and expert handling. “May I keep it overnight for analysis?”
“’Fraid not,” McGee said. “Gotta keep the chain of custody. Can you do it while I watch?”
Matthew nodded and took out a jeweler’s loupe. “Every stone has unique features,” he said as he examined the ring. “Like fingerprints.” He jotted some notes on a paper. “I’ll run this information through the Gemological Institute of America database. We should be able to identify the stone and the buyer.”
“How long will that take?” Anna asked.
“Twenty-four hours.”
They thanked the owner and left. The whole conversation took less than fifteen minutes. She and Jack didn’t have to go to the jewelry store, Anna thought. McGee could have easily handled this on his own. Jack had just wanted to show her the engagement rings.
30
When they got back to the office, Anna fled to her own floor instead of going to the war room with Jack. She needed some time to herself.
It was seven-thirty at night, and the U.S. Attorney’s Office was quiet. She was the only lawyer left on the Sex Crimes floor, and was glad for the solitude. She could bury her personal issues in work. There was plenty of it. She prepared for tomorrow’s hearing about Madeleine’s books, then continued to look for legal authority to compel the congressional videotapes. Jack still had to respond to Davenport’s motion to disqualify him from the case.
It was hard to keep up with Davenport’s army of lawyers. At least they had Sam and her FBI analysts combing through phone records and credit reports. Anna and Sam might have their differences, but the woman was a worker. Anna looked out her window to the FBI’s Washington Field Office next door. It was a big square building of concrete and glass. Rumor had it that the WFO was shockproof, so if someone set off a bomb, the FBI building would simply bounce the shock waves back, turning the U.S. Attorney’s Office into a heap of rubble. The USAO had no such protections. Anna had seen bullet holes in the windows on the lower floors.
As Anna gazed out the darkened window, she saw a figure appear behind her, mirrored in the glass. She turned to find Jack in her doorway.
“Hey,” Anna greeted him with surprise. “I thought you’d be home by now.”
“Too much to do. Luisa agreed to stay with Olivia as long as I need.” He handed her his draft response to Davenport’s motion.
Jack looked exhausted. Davenport’s motion had clearly gotten to him. Like most AUSAs, Jack believed in the honor and importance of being a prosecutor. They weren’t just advocating for a client; they were fighting for justice, wearing the white hat. There was nothing more upsetting to a prosecutor than a personal attack on his integrity. Despite his advice to ignore criticism, Anna could see that Jack was taking this motion personally.
She felt sorry for purposely distancing herself when he was having a hard time. She stood and went to him. “Hang in there,” she murmured.
She wrapped her hands around his neck, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him. He pulled her toward him, pressing her body against his.
There was movement in her peripheral vision. Anna pulled her mouth from Jack’s and looked over. Her boss, Carla Martinez, stood in the doorway. Anna jumped away from Jack as if she’d been electric shocked. How could she have been so careless? To be kissing Jack in the office, with her door open!
Carla looked as surprised as Anna felt. “Oh my goodness, I’m sorry,” Carla began. “I didn’t think—”
“No, no, I’m sorry,” Anna interrupted. “I didn’t mean to be, um . . .” She couldn’t come up with anything coherent to say.
Jack cleared his throat. “Welcome back, Carla. How was the National Advocacy Center?”
“Thanks, my course at the NAC went well. I just got in, came here right from the airport. I saw the light on in here and thought I’d get an update on the case, but . . . I’ll catch up with you two tomorrow, okay?”
Before Anna could speak, Carla turned and hurried back down the hall.
“It’s a total disaster.” Anna paced the length of Jack’s kitchen an hour later, wondering whether there was any way to minimize the damage she’d just done to her career and her relationship with Carla. Raffles sat by his food dish, his orange eyes following Anna as she paced.
“Come on. It’s not that bad.” Jack leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing a bottle of Dogfish Head Indian pale ale. They were using the loud whisper adults employ when they’re fighting but don’t want to disturb sleeping children.
“Jack, she’s my boss. She’s probably the one person in the world I most want to impress.”
“You don’t think dating me is impressive?”
She was too upset to laugh. “Not for someone in my position. That’s why we agreed to keep our relationship private.”
“Look, I haven’t told anyone. But something like this was bound to happen.” Jack took a swig of his beer. “Life’s gonna be a lot easier if we just give in to the inevitable and stop hiding.”
“Were you trying to out us?” Her voice was getting louder.
So was his. “Anna. I came to discuss the case. You kissed me.”
Anna knew that part of her anger at Jack was misdirected anger at herself. She sat at the kitchen table. “I’m sorry. I just—I can’t stand the idea of another office sex scandal.”
“Don’t worry about Carla.” Jack set down his beer and put his hands on Anna’s shoulders. He began to knead her tense muscles. “She’s not going to go gossiping about us.”
“How can you know that?”
“Carla knows how to keep a secret.”
“What does that mean?” She ducked her shoulders away from his hands and turned to look at him, trying to imagine what kind of secret the two rivals would keep for each other.
“Nothing.” He put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Look, I’ve been in this office for twelve years, and I’ve seen some real sex scandals. This is pretty mild. We’re both single adults. It’s not like we’re on opposite sides of a case.”
“Ouch,” she said at his reference to her relationship with a public defender last year.
“Look, this isn’t a problem.” Jack sat down next to her. “As far as I’m concerned, it could’ve come out months ago. Anna, I’m in for the long haul. We’re going to get married one of these days. And we’ll invite our colleagues to the wedding. It doesn’t seem worth the struggle to keep it secret for a few extra months.”
Anna’s stomach somersaulted. She wasn’t ready to be married or even to talk about being married. The only marriage she’d ever seen up close was her parents’. They’d been madly in love at first, according to family lore. But most of Anna’s early memories ended with her father, drunk and screaming, taking a swing at her mother. Later, when her father was passed out on the couch, her mother would try to explain: Your father loves us, he just has trouble showing it sometimes. That was the kind of love Anna never wanted to see again. It was why she became a sex-crimes and domestic-violence prosecutor in the first place.
Even if she got over her general qualms about marriage, she wasn’t sure she was ready to marry Jack. She loved him. But marrying him meant jumping ahead ten years, giving up parts of her life that she’d always hoped for. There’d be no traveling around the world. No happy hours with her girlfriends. Just the life of a middle-aged mom, hurrying home from work in time to take care of Olivia, who didn’t want her there. Anna wasn’t sure she could do it.
“We’ve only been dating for six months,” she said at last.
“We’ve known each other for a year and a half. I’m thirty-seven. I don’t need the two-year courtship. I know what’s out there, and I know a good thing when I’ve found it.”
“I’m only twenty-seven.”
It sounded weak even to her ears. Most of her high-school friends were married, many with kids. Even her law-school friends, who’d postponed co
upling in favor of professional goals, were getting engaged and married. Twenty-seven was a perfectly appropriate age to settle down.
“We’re not your parents,” Jack said softly. “I won’t turn into your father if we say ‘I do.’”
She looked down at her hands. Jack was a good man, gentle and generous. With him, she would never have to fear what her mother had. But Jack was also set in his ways, demanding, and stubborn. She could see her life being consumed by his—to the extent that it hadn’t been already.
“I assumed we were both in this for good,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t have involved Olivia if that weren’t so. But now it seems that I need to ask. What’s your plan for us, Anna?”
“I don’t have a plan.” Her voice rose in pitch. “And I don’t want one.”
Jack cleared his throat and looked away from her. This was the first time he’d ever mentioned marriage. He’d probably expected a more enthusiastic response.
“Then what are you doing here?” he said.
“I care about you a lot, Jack.” As soon as she said it, she knew it was a mistake.
“Oh, you ‘care about’ me? That’s good to know.”
“No, I mean I love you. But marriage is something I need to think about, that’s all.”
“Fine.”
Jack turned and went upstairs. Anna sank back in her chair. She had hurt him, deeply. But she didn’t know what else to say.
A shuffling noise came from the living room. Two big green eyes peeked up from behind the couch. With her black hair in two high pigtails, Olivia looked like a frightened Muppet.
“Olivia?” Anna called quietly.
The little girl shuffled into the kitchen. She wore purple pajamas with footies. She looked worried.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Anna knelt down so her head was level with Olivia’s. “Did we wake you up?”
The little girl nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Anna said. “We should have been quieter.”
“Can I have a glass of milk?”
Jack had a no-drinks-after-bedtime policy to avoid bed-wetting. But this seemed like a good time for an exception. Anna filled a plastic Princess and the Frog cup with milk and handed it to the little girl. Olivia took a long gulp. Raffles meowed, so Anna poured some milk into a saucer for the cat.
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