ADAs are the only people on earth who still use BlackBerrys. When the company filed for Chapter 11 a few years back, I thought the practice would end, but it’s still the only device on which we’re allowed to conduct business. The security features are apparently better than on a smartphone.

“Sorry. No, I haven’t seen it,” he says. “Maybe it’s in Jacob’s room.”

That’s a veiled jab. I spent the evening sleeping beside my son, leaving Stuart alone in our bed. It’s something I do when I can’t sleep, which is more often than not, unfortunately.

I return to the e-mail that I was reading on my BlackBerry. It’s from the District Attorney. The big boss never—and I mean never—contacts me directly. If he has something of importance to say to the Special Victims Bureau, he reaches out to Lauren.

Nonetheless, today the e-mail is to me. His message is succinct: Come to my office as soon as you get in.

No one else is on the distribution list. Not unless they were bcc’d.

I forward the mail to Lauren, adding, “I just got this from Drake McKenney. Any idea what it’s about? Will you be there too?”

I continue to get dressed, periodically gazing down at my BlackBerry, which is lying faceup on my bed. No response from Lauren.

Not that I’m surprised.

“Did you find your phone?” Stuart asks when I enter the kitchen. Jacob is beside him, munching on buttered toast. Stuart has a can of Diet Coke in front of him to satisfy his caffeine fix—he never acquired a taste for coffee.

“No. I remember taking it out yesterday and putting it on my desk. I’m guessing I just never put it back in my purse.”

“Maybe it was the surprise of Richard Trofino showing up.”

Stuart has met Lauren’s husband twice. Once at a dinner party we hosted, and last Labor Day weekend, when Lauren and Richard invited us to their house in East Hampton. In that limited time together, Stuart developed a full-on man-crush for Richard.

I had told Stuart about Richard’s appearance at my office and about his and Lauren’s dinner plans with Ella Broden. I hoped it would soften the blow for what I expect to be coming shortly. Slapping a job posting for my position on my desk would have been less conspicuous than Lauren and her husband dining with my much-beloved, and currently unemployed, predecessor. Of course, Stuart lacked the facts necessary to understand that Richard’s appearance in my office, yesterday of all days, meant that my career in Special Vics was likely coming to an end very soon.