I shook my head.

“No, I’m not interested.”

“Me neither. Take care of yourself.”

He clapped me on the shoulder and pushed out through the gate. I was sure there would be a throng of media out in the hall waiting and he’d tell them that in some strange way he felt that justice had been served. Live by the gun, die by the gun. Or words to that effect.

I’d leave the media for him. Instead, I gave him a good lead and then followed him out. The reporters were already surrounding him and I was able to hug the wall and escape notice. All except for Jack McEvoy from the Times. He spotted me and started trailing. He caught me as I got to the stairwell entrance.

“Hey, Mick!”

I glanced at him but didn’t stop walking. I knew from experience not to. If one member of the media downed you, the rest of the pride would catch up and pile on. I didn’t want to be devoured. I hit the stairwell door and started down.

“No comment.”

He stayed with me, stride for stride.

“I’m not writing about the trial. I’m covering the new murders. I thought maybe you and I could have the same deal again. You know, trade informa—”

“No deal, Jack. And no comment. Catch you later.”

I put my hand out and stopped him on the first landing. I left him there, went down two more landings and then out into the hallway. I walked down to Judge Holder’s courtroom and entered.

Michaela Gill was in the clerk’s pod and I asked if I could see the judge for a few minutes.

“But I don’t have you down for an appointment,” she said.

“I know that, Michaela, but I think the judge will want to see me. Is she back there? Can you tell her I only want ten minutes? Tell her it’s about the Vincent files.”

The clerk picked up the phone, punched a button and gave the judge my request. Then she hung up and told me I could go right back to her chambers.

“Thank you.”

The judge was behind her desk with her half-glasses on, a pen poised in her hand as if I had interrupted her in the middle of signing an order.

“Well, Mr. Haller,” she said. “It’s certainly been an eventful day. Have a seat.”

I sat in the familiar chair in front of her.

“Thank you for seeing me, Judge.”

“What can I do for you?”

She asked the question without looking at me. She started scribbling signatures on a series of documents.

“I just wanted you to know I will be resigning as counsel on the rest of the Vincent cases.”

She put the pen down and looked over her glasses at me.

“What?”