The usual Friday crowd of townspeople and students were scattered all over the popular brewery when we walked in. We spotted two stools at the end of the bar and headed over. As we dodged bodies on our way to the empty seats Patrice leaned over and spoke into my ear.

“How did today end? I saw on my news feed that you guys finished with your witnesses.”

I settled in my seat and looked around to see who was within earshot. A habit of being a small town prosecutor. “It’s going well, there is a lot of evidence,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “The issue will be whether a jury will actually choose to believe that any of what happened was consensual.” I grimaced, thinking about the pile of photographs from the victim’s medical exam after the assault. “It’s not likely.” I lifted a shoulder. “But you never know.”

He dipped his head and I could tell he was thinking hard about something. Before he answered, the bartender came to take our drink orders, and distracted us for a moment. When he walked away Patrice picked up the conversation again, his face serious. “That is a huge amount of pressure on you.”

I ran a hand over my forehead, ready to give an answer along the lines of “well I’m just doing my job” and then thought about the way he’d said it: “is” not “must be.” That distinction rocked me for a moment, because it was not very often that people in my life acknowledged that the pressure of this job sometimes could be paralyzing. For once I didn’t try to alleviate the other person’s worry, I just said it.

“It is a lot of pressure. We’ve worked our asses off, and prepared as much as we possibly can, but the jury ultimately decides. We have good witnesses, and the sheriff’s department did a really good job with the investigation part. So we’ll see.”

He ran his hand over mine before speaking, “I can’t imagine what having so much hanging on me would be like. No matter how I feel about the justice system, it is not an easy job that you have.” He then moved closer and asked in a low voice. “Any news about the sheriff?”

I shook my head and tried not to show the frustration I felt. After the meeting with Day he’d followed up to let us know he’d “made it clear” to the deputies that they needed to be more careful, but there didn’t seem to be any real sign he was taking things further than that, at least for now.

There was only so much I could tell Patrice anyway, so I just shook my head. “No, not really. I’m sorry.” I meant that sincerely.