It seemed like just yesterday she had begun to pack her own apartment. Her whirlwind romance with the senior lawyer in her firm had become more serious than either expected. She had picked up cardboard boxes only a week beforehand; planning to end her lease a few months early and lose her security deposit. She had barely spent any time there in the last few months; his condo had been much roomier and comforting.

But when she woke up one hot summer's morning to find him already gone, he had left only a simple note stating he'd see her at the office later that day, she worried. She found it hard to work on their next case; hard to concentrate on the evidence she was handed. When she received a phone call from Lana Skye, her worst fears were confirmed.

She spent the next week at his side; praying he'd wake. Her back ached from the plastic mattress the nurses had supplied her with. Her eyes were puffy from crying and no amount of makeup could hid the dark circles under her eyes. She showered quickly, but refused to change; fearing he wouldn't recognize her if she wasn't wearing the black dress she wore during her first case with him.

Lana came by daily to check on her and ensure she ate. She updated her on the investigation as information came in. Dahlia Hawthorne had been questioned and searched. The detective was frustrated; nothing had been found on the woman, and without evidence, she was once again let go. The red headed university student was already on the woman's shit list for keeping the promising lawyer from returning to the courts; breaking her heart like this made her determined to lock her up once and for all.

She finally went home the night Marvin Grossberg first came to the hospital. He stressed that Diego Armando would not have wanted her to waste her talent and begged her to return to work. She obliged, refusing however to return to the office they had shared and was moved into a smaller, recently abandoned office. She threw herself into her work, staying at the office late and immediately returning to the hospital. She'd sit by his bed until the nurses asked her to leave.

Months passed before Mia Fey was able to enter her lover's condo. Her friend had offered to go with her to retrieve her possessions and clean and the defense attorney graciously accepted. Lana met the medium where she spent most of her time now and they left together. When they arrived at the complex, Mia broke into tears again; unable to cross through the door without Lana leading her.

She was upset with herself for not realizing Diego was chasing Dahlia on his own. She was upset with herself that she didn't wake up when he left her side that morning. But she was most upset with herself for not being able to lock Dahlia away ten months earlier.

They started by cleaning out the kitchen; large trash bags in hand they emptied the silver refrigerator and freezer. They moved to the cabinets next, leaving only the numbered coffee tins Diego loved so much. As they sorted through them, Lana pulled a tin out and placed it on the counter for Mia to see. The lawyer picked up the tin and ran her fingers over the familiar writing that graced the label: Blend #102 – Mia Fey. It was the only blend that had an addendum; a blend that he had always praised when he brewed it.

She opened the cabinet over the sink and retrieved a worn white porcelain mug from the shelf. She took it and the tin and placed it in the box they had left on the tall bar chair. Lana didn't question her as they moved from the kitchen to the bedroom.

Mia emptied the dresser of her lingerie, slips and skirts. She moved to the closet and pulled shirts and dresses from their hangers. She gathered her shoes and threw them into another box as the detective watched from the doorway. When she had finished with her own clothing she pawed through the silk dress shirts that belonged to the owner of the condo. She retrieved a red shirt from the back of the closet and folded it carefully before she placed it on top of her pale pink sundress.

The items she salvaged from the condo stayed hidden in the spare bedroom Maya often used when she came to visit until one day in early April. It had been a dreary day during a dreary week. A college student at Ivy University had been murdered by another student via electrocution. The defendant was a young art student named Phoenix Wright; the star witness for the prosecution was another student: Dahlia Hawthorne.

Mia took the case without hesitation and against her better judgment. Lana urged her to reconsider; that facing Dahlia again would do more harm than good. The medium ignored her and spent hours pouring over the evidence that her boss had handed over to her.

When she returned home she opened the cardboard box and pulled out the red satin shirt. She undid the white plastic belt on her waist and unzipped the silver zipper of her dress. The heavy cotton dropped to the floor as she pulled her arms through the large shirt. She pushed the long sleeves up her wrists and buttoned the shirt. It hung loosely on her body but comforted her.

She walked to the kitchen; white mug and coffee tin in hand. She took Blend #102 andopened the canister; inhaling the rich aroma of the coffee grounds. Mia could smell a hint of dark chocolate with the coffee beans; she smiled as she began to scoop the grounds into a small filter in the coffee machine she had bought for the senior attorney. As she started the brewer, she walked to her desk and collected the case files for her return to the courtroom.

The medium took the pot and poured the dark brew into the worn white mug. She took the warm porcelain in both hands and walked to the couch. She sipped the coffee, its bitterness lingering on her lips as she pulled her legs up underneath her and reached for the files.

Dahlia Hawthorne was going to pay for her crimes this time. Mia Fey was going to be sure of that.