Most of the assistant distract attorneys had gone home, but McCoy's office was accustomed to working late hours. There were still loose ends and they had a summation the next morning before the trial judge, to determine if the evidence was to be allowed into court. Jack had known when the files were turned over to him that the police had been less than careful in gathering evidence. Everything hinged on the locket and lock of hair, and there was a chance they might lose it altogether. For the past hour, over a late dinner of Chinese food, he and Claire had poured over their options, forming a formidable argument.
Her hair was tangled and she looked tired, but she still worked with determination. He expected long hours from his staff, and she was more than content to be there with him. It was quiet outside the office, and she wasn't alone. Most of the time she didn't mind her solitary lifestyle, but the past week had been difficult for her, and it was comforting to have his presence so near. She turned another page of her draft and felt him watching her. He often did. It never unnerved her, and he didn't mean it to. It was a simple brand of observation, intentness without purpose behind it.
Jack glanced at the clock and saw it was after eleven. "I think we have done more than enough tonight," he said, interrupting her train of thought. For an instant he thought she looked pained, as if the thought of leaving was disconcerting for her. Claire tiredly gathered her things and walked with him down the hall. There was no one there but the night cleaning crew, unsurprised to see them. They often worked late hours. Jack pushed the elevator button and waited. It slowly came up and opened, admitting them. It was late and they would have to take a taxi. He didn't even ask her if she wanted to share one; it was assumed.
The ride was made in contented silence, once the cabbie realized neither was in the mood for conversation. He left the meter running and waited as Jack walked her up the stairs of her apartment building. She fitted the key in the lock and looked at him. "Good night, Jack," she said. He smiled faintly in the dim light of the street lanterns and repeated the gesture, returning to the cab. She was sorry to see him go, uneasy as she vanished into the building and locked herself into her apartment. She should feel content; the man was behind bars. Rather than attempting to sleep while so tense, she prepared a bath and soaked in it until she was drowsy.
For once, there were no nightmares.