"For you, Amelia," Jack McCoy said, "My eternal gratitude for getting the Jackson discovery ready in time, and also these flowers. And for you, Mrs. James, a deposition that needs three copies."

Knowing that Dan was in court all day made Colleen daring. "That's the nicest thing you've ever given me, Mr. McCoy," she said.

"Sad, but true," he said blithely. "Ladies, I'll leave you to it."

Colleen settled herself into her chair, rolled a fresh sheet of paper into her typewriter, and opened the file McCoy had given her.

Tucked under the clip on the front page was a mimeographed leaflet. 'Do you feel unsafe at home?' it asked her. 'There are places you can get help.' And under the words, a list of names and telephone numbers – names like Manhattan Battered Women's Shelter and New York Women's Safety Project.

Even knowing Dan was in court all day, Colleen broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of him catching her looking at the leaflet. She yanked it out of the file and began to tear it up, in half and then in half again, over and over until nothing was left but a handful of confetti that she dropped into her wastepaper bin.

She looked quickly at the other secretaries to see if they'd noticed what she was doing, but all had their heads down, typewriter keys clicking away. Then she darted a glance at the door to reassure herself that yes, Dan was out all day.

Jack McCoy stood in the doorway, leaning against the door-frame, all casual and careless as if he didn't know and didn't care how good he looked doing it. Then Colleen met his gaze and thought that perhaps right then he didn't know and didn't care how he looked.

She shook her head, trying to convey thanks, and no thanks, and a warning, all at once.

McCoy nodded, once, and turned away.