It was raining. Claire hurried from the taxi to the courthouse steps, sheltering her face beneath an umbrella that the wind threatened to whip free. She entered somewhat tousled, checking her watch and seeing that she had minutes to spare. McCoy was standing in the hall when she entered, and as she closed her umbrella said irritably, "Where have you been?" He didn't await a response as he started down the corridor, her hurrying in order to keep up. She didn't have to wait long to learn what his foul mood was about.

"Our evidence is about to get thrown out. It seems the police were less than honest with us about how they obtained it." The ring on his left hand, the one he had gotten in college that never seemed to leave his slender fingers, flashed in the dull lights as he pushed the elevator button. Claire tucked her hair behind her ears, wishing that she had pulled it back that morning. The lights had flickered once during the night, and her alarm had not gone off. As the elevator doors rolled open and expelled several attorneys, who either glanced at them with disinterest or exchanged pleasantries, he said, "Logan neglected to mention that he slammed Harmon's head through a wall during the interrogation."

She winced. Mike Logan was a good cop, but had an incurable Irish temper that had gotten him a number of assault complaints. She watched her companion pull himself together in the short ride upstairs, utter composure coming over his face. By the time they entered the judge's chambers, he was confident and poised. Everyone had moaned when the docket judge was assigned, for McCoy had a longstanding track record with this judge, who simply didn't like him. One of the more liberal judges on the circuit, she was extremely harsh with the prosecution. The case was as good as lost when they entered the room, but Jack put up a good argument regardless. There was a moment when the judge simply looked at him, and Claire held her breath, attempting to ignore the pale green eyes boring into the back of her head, for the defendant lounged in a chair nearby.

"Mr. McCoy, I appreciate that the evidence represents the meat of your case, but the defense has presented an argument that it was illegally obtained through the use of excessive force. Its placement was such that I do not believe it would have been found without his assistance, and therefore the evidence is excluded."

It was nothing less than he had expected, but nevertheless damaging. Jack shook his head, biting his lip as he so often did when repressing his anger. Claire could feel it radiating off him, but nothing prepared them for the defense attorney's next statement.

"Your Honor, in light of that ruling I see no reason not to appeal for a dismissal. Without the evidence, the prosecution has no case."

"We have a witness that places him near the scene of the crime." Jack was not about to let this one get away. There was aggravation in his dark eyes, but he contained his sense of urgency well. "We have forensics that link him to the crime scene. It's hardly circumstantial."

The judge leaned back in her chair. The rain was pattering against the window that overlooked the street. Claire purposefully avoided looking at the defendant, who switched his gaze from her slender form to the older woman behind the desk. "Your motion to dismiss is denied, Counselor. The prosecution has enough to take to trial."

His attorney had not been anticipating anything less, and quickly applied, "Then at least let us address terms of bail, Your Honor. I see no reason for my client to remain incarcerated."

Jack's astonishment was apparent. "He lured three young women into a remote district, tortured, raped, and murdered them, Your Honor. He is a clear threat to society."

"There is no proof of that. Their evidence is circumstantial. He is innocent until proven guilty. He should not be forced to suffer needlessly, when he has strong ties to the community!"

The attorney leaned forward in his chair, and turned his gaze to Jack, who was staring at him in open astonishment, horrified. Claire, who had until remained silent as she lingered in the background, said, "His association to a family of means does not grant strong ties, Your Honor. His father has disowned him, and he has no reliable employment. There is nothing to keep him here if he is released, and no guarantee he won't target another victim."

"The evidence is not sufficient to hold him without bail!"

"To release him would be a clear violation of public safety!"

Claire could feel the man's smirk all the way across the room. She dared glance at him and found he was still looking at her, his gaze suggestive of his thoughts. Turning her back on him, she shifted nearer to Jack. He sensed her tension, but was too intent on the argument to acknowledge it.

The judge lifted her hand to halt them, tiredness etching across her brow. "I have heard enough," she said. "I understand your concerns, Mr. McCoy, but it's my job to acknowledge only the evidence remaining. I see no reason why bail should not be granted, but I won't make it easy. Half a million, bail or bond, and police surveillance after his release. I intend for him to turn up at trial."

"Your Honor!"

"No arguments, Mr. McCoy. I have made my decision."

"Then be informed of my notice to appeal!"

Claire turned and looked at the defendant, who was leering up at her. His attorney took him by the arm and led him out. They left the chambers in a despairing silence. Jack pushed the elevator button angrily. "That judge is a damn fool," he said. "We'll start the appeal as soon as we return to the office. Hopefully, we can get bail overturned before he raises sufficient funds."

The doors rolled open and they stepped inside. "His father has deep pockets," Claire said, "but I'm not sure he's willing to help. He slammed the door in my face when I went to speak with him." She sighed and leaned against the back of the elevator as the doors closed. The halls were not as crowded at this time of day, and they were alone. Jack looked at her and his eyes softened, sensing that she was nursing a headache. He had been rather sharp with her that morning and was sorry for it, for he could see she was still deeply troubled.

"Tension headache?" he inquired, and she opened her eyes to look at him. There came a hint of a smile across his face, something mischievous flashing in his eyes. His sense of humor often returned to break the monotony of his thoughts, and lessen his frustration. "I would offer you a neck rub when we get back to the office, if I weren't convinced you would turn it down."

She gave him a long-suffering glance and pushed away from the wall as the doors opened. It was still raining and they shared the umbrella as they hurried down the steps and caught a cab. Within the hour she was in her office, in the half-gloom, bent over her desk intently writing. She could hear Jack's voice on the phone, the words jumbled through the half-closed door between their offices. Law books lay open on the desk around her, and she remained unaware of his presence until he picked one up and looked at the passage marked.

"I talked with Adam, and made some calls," he said. "We have a bail hearing in the morning. If he does get out, he'll be incarcerated again in a few hours. It's a high enough profile case that a second judge won't uphold the verdict."

Claire nodded, turning her pencil over and staring at the words scribbled on the legal pad in front of her. Jack's hand was on the back of her chair, as he leaned slightly over her, casting his shadow across the desk. It was so subtle that she didn't fight it; his fingers drifted to her shoulder, sliding over the silk of her blouse. She didn't pull away as he stepped behind her, reaching the base of her neck. There was something delicate and sensual in his touch, deeply persuasive. Her eyes drifted closed as he rubbed her shoulder blades and neck, skillfully finding the pressure points that sent relief into her throbbing skull. She was stiff beneath his working hands at first, but slowly relaxed.

Warm fingers continued to massage, sliding up into her hair and entangling in her dark locks. Claire responded as a child might, drawing in her breath ever so slightly and leaning into the caress. Warmth was spreading through her, instincts prompted by his caress. Jack was aware of it, knowing he came dangerously near to familiarity. She had never allowed him to touch her before, except in a passing caress. He dropped his hand to her shoulder, sliding his fingers down her arm as he stepped back. It was a dangerous enticement, too personal for the office.

There came a soft rap at the door, and an intern stuck in her head. "Mr. Schiff wants you in his office, Mr. McCoy." Too preoccupied with her errands to notice the flush in Claire's beautiful features, the intern hurried once more on her way. They looked at one another, the gaze intense and lingering, before he drew his hand across her shoulder in passing and left. He was gone for much of the afternoon and when he returned, she had gone home. It was a Friday and no one objected. Jack was restless himself, but had enough to occupy him for several hours. He was nearly the elevator at a quarter past nine when someone came hurrying along after him, and thrust a piece of paper into his hand. His eyes lit upon the scribbled note and as the doors rolled open, he demanded, "When was this delivered?"

"Just a few minutes ago. I've been all over the building looking for you."

Dread was spreading through him.

Harmon was out on bail.