Diane's desk lamp is the only light burning in Lockhart/Gardner's deserted offices.
She can't see a thing in the dimness but it doesn't matter: she stopped working a quarter of an hour ago.
She wants to feel good about the settlement. The newspaper got off cheap, in spite of the damning investigative report. Alicia and Cary acquitted themselves well. Deciding between them at the end of the sixth months is going to be harder than she initially thought. The unbidden thought that the firm may not even be here by the time six months have passed rears its head. She dismisses it and rubs the bridge of her nose.
Stern's plots are foiled for the time being. Julius will stay at the firm, which may yet go under, but not this week.
But instead of triumphant or relieved she feels hollow.
Goodness knows Diane has seen Stern lose his temper before. She smiles wryly thinking of all the times she saw assistants, first-year associates – even equity partners – scurrying backward out of his office as his bellow reverberated through the building. He was rarely out of patience with Diane, though, even in the early days.
She was an oddity back then – only the second woman hired at the firm where they both worked, a gangly girl, earnest and bookish, come home to Chicago after seven years in New England. Ignoring whispers, catcalls and even open propositions, she kept her head down and focused on cases. Jonas Stern was already a legend and Diane was desperate to work with him. Granted, she found his colorful personality off-putting at first. But she worshipped his work. His crusade against police brutality and his championship of civil rights endeared him to her more than his habit of changing his pants in the office repulsed her.
The first time she was assigned to work on one of his cases she was eager to impress him and put in long hours scouring documents. Her efforts were rewarded: she found a mistake in his brief that could have been costly and she took it to him.
She was surprised to find that she could look him straight in the eye without flinching and that her voice didn't quake.
He gave her a hard look. Then his eyes crinkled at the corners.
"I need a second-chair. You're it," he said.
They worked closely on several cases after that and inevitably, gossip sprang up. Diane tried not to mind, but it was difficult when even her own family seemed inclined to assume her relationship with Stern was otherwise than professional. She can recall a certain phone call in which her father icily asked why he had paid for four years at Wellesley and three years at Harvard Law if she was only going to let an older man pick her brain in exchange for – Daddy had stopped short of naming what he had in mind. At least her parents believed Stern was taking advantage of her expertise. Virtually everyone else believed she was benefitting from his.
Still, she felt confident sticking close to Stern was a smart move. His causes and some of his clients were too controversial for a large and fairly conservative firm. Everyone knew he was champing at the bit, eager to go out on his own – and no one doubted he would make a success of it.
"I don't know whether you've heard, Diane, but I'm leaving. Starting my own firm."
"Really," she said, managing to sound mildly surprised, even though she'd been hearing rumors for days.
"You're the best associate at this firm. One of the best young litigators I've ever seen," he said. "Come with me? You'd be on the partner track, of course."
She smiled. "Of course. And of course I'm coming with you."
Diane reflexively checks her e-mail. There is nothing noteworthy. She shuts down her laptop and closes it.
"And you, my protégé – the only reason I hired you was because it looked good to have a woman in the office." Those words, spoken in the heat of the moment, were patently untrue and she knows that Jonas himself didn't believed them for a second either. The barb bothered her nevertheless. It was simply unlike him to say something so cruel and especially unlike him to sneer at her.
And he was never, never otherwise than professional in court.
"Damn it, give me a minute!"
Sitting at the defense table, Diane felt helpless watching Jonas's expression change from aggravated to bewildered to shocked, and then crumple in hurt and embarrassment.
"Oh. I'm sorry, your honor. I have nothing further."
The gruff note in his voice made her queasy.
She wanted to beat him, of course – needed to beat him, the threat to Lockhart/Gardner was real – but not like this.
Something is very wrong and Diane should have realized it sooner. Alicia knows what it is – has known for a while, evidently. Diane feels like kicking herself for misunderstanding the situation. She saw that Alicia made Stern uncomfortable. After all, he asked to speak to her privately in front of a roomful of lawyers and clients. Diane deliberately chose Alicia to handle the newspaper editor's questioning, guessing correctly that the first-year associate might be able to rattle the older attorney. But she supposed that whatever Alicia had on Stern related to his drinking, or perhaps his daughter. Now, she knows there is something quite different going on.
As they exited the courthouse after Stern's meltdown, Diane briefly considered asking Alicia about what had happened. She thought better of it. The first-year associate played it close to the vest at all times and Stern had after all technically been Alicia's client – confidentiality applied.
Seated at her desk, absently passing her glasses from hand to hand, Diane now thinks about asking Kalinda, who is privy to Alicia's secrets if anyone is. But she is leery of this option. She has leaned on Kalinda a little too much recently and she knows from experience that the investigator is not shy about cashing in on favors.
There is another possibility. Diane could call Stern's ex-wife – Cassandra, the saner one – and do a little prying. She starts to look up the number in her contacts, then stops. This is absurd and it's sneaky.
I worked with the man for thirty years, she thinks. If the two of us can't sit and have a talk after all this time, what kind of people are we?
She takes a deep breath and calls Jonas. After six rings she gets his voicemail. She hangs up without leaving a message, sighs and starts gathering her belongings.
She drives down nearly empty streets. When did Chicago become such a quiet city? She has a hunch she knows where to find Stern. There's no chance he's at home. He has always been a night owl. When they worked together, no matter how late she stayed at the office, he stayed later.
One late night – it must have been seventeen or eighteen years ago – he joined her at her desk, hours after a particularly painful verdict came in. Diane's client, a twenty-year-old kid accused of first-degree murder, was convicted and sentenced to life in prison.
"Tough loss," he said.
She grimaced.
"It should have been a win."
"Why's that?"
"I should have known I would lose the motion to exclude. I should have been prepared for that and I should have lined up more witnesses. "
"You can't anticipate everything. Stop staring at the walls and go home."
"I'll only stare at the walls at home."
"Yeah?" he said, understanding. "Maybe you should get a pet. A dog."
"If I do, I'll name him after you."
He laughed and she did too, finally.
Then, unexpectedly, he took her hand and pressed it.
"Don't dwell on it, love" he said. "There's always another case."