“Kate, I’m not trying to patronize you. I’m just concerned that this move might not be good for your mental health. You will be defending people accused of crimes. Some of them are horrific. After everything you’ve been through, I’m not sure if you should do this.”

Doubt crept around the edges of her resolve. “I want to be a prosecutor, Eddie. Hillcroft told me that unless I got some experience, it wasn’t going to happen.”

“Okay.” He paused for a moment. “Listen. Here’s the deal. You can be my partner, but I decide which cases you take. Okay?”

“You mean you want to screen them for content? I get the PG crimes and you get the X-rated?”

“Exactly.”

It was tempting not having to confront the truly soul-searing cases. But… “No deal, Eddie. I appreciate your concern, but I need to take control of my career. If it turns out that I can’t stomach the cases, then being a prosecutor is out. I wouldn’t have much choice about my cases as Crown.”

“True.” He gave a resigned laugh. “Welcome aboard.”

Kate thought of his shambling body, ash flecked on his desk, the warm light in his hazel eyes. “Where are you now?” She would bring him a coffee. Cement the deal.

“Not at the office. Why?”

“No reason.” She kept her tone light. “I just thought I might bring us celebratory Americanos.”

“I’m in court most of the day. Let’s have dinner and get the details sorted out.”

A seagull shot up from the wake of the ferry, carrying something in its beak. “Sounds good.”

“I’d offer to have you over, but I’m still unpacking.” Eddie had been house sitting for Randall Barrett while he and his family were in Manhattan for ten months. Randall had returned just a few weeks ago, and Eddie moved to a new flat.

“I know Alaska would love to see you. Come for seven.” Kate smiled as she hung up the phone. The smile quickly faded as she neared her office. She hadn’t expected that her first day back at work would be marked by joining forces with Eddie Bent, her mentor and friend. But it had a sense of inevitability to it.

She approached the large foyer of Purdy’s Wharf Tower Two, catching her reflection in the mirrored elevator doors. She had worn a short-sleeved silk knit sweater in a deep indigo, and a dark pencil skirt that she had managed to zip up over the past month’s vacation diet. She had dug around in her suitcase and found a silk scarf in blue, violet and magenta. She knotted the scarf around her neck, sleeked back her recalcitrant hair into a low ponytail, and threw on some lipstick and mascara. With her dark glasses and low heels, she had felt ready for the world when she rushed out of her house this morning.