“That’s fine by me,” says McKenney. “I’d like Dana to work with him. If it’s not Trofino, the odds are it’s going to be work related. She knows the most about Lauren’s caseload.”

Gabriel makes eye contact with me and smiles. It makes me feel like a teenage girl being spied across the room. I nod but don’t smile back at him.

“What about that?” Johnson says in my direction. “Was there anything out of the ordinary in the department? Threats by defendants, that kind of thing?”

The question is directed at me because I know what’s currently on the docket of the Special Vics Bureau. “No, not that I’m aware of,” I say. “I’ll need to review all of our case files as well as any e-mails or voice mails that Lauren received. But we met once a week to discuss open matters, so I’d know if there was anything of particular concern. There wasn’t.”

Gabriel chimes in. “Lauren did say something about a guy who just got out. Raped his family.”

This is not something Lauren shared with me. “Do you remember his name?”

“I don’t, but Ella probably will.”

That ends the general discussion, and no one says anything for a good ten seconds. It’s the Police Commissioner who finally breaks the silence.

“At the risk of stating the obvious, this is our top priority. Blank check for overtime . . . manpower, you name it.”

“Nobody kills an Assistant District Attorney,” McKenney adds. “Nobody.”

9. ELLA BRODEN

9.

ELLA BRODEN

An unseasonably cold November morning does nothing to lighten the foot traffic in the West Village. The streets are teeming with people when I emerge from Allison’s townhouse. As I sometimes do during the day, I wonder where they’re all going. I think about the fact that I have nothing on my schedule today. In fact, aside from Lava next Tuesday and my appointment tomorrow with Allison, I have nothing to do for the rest of the week.

I haven’t gotten any farther away than the corner of Jane and Greenwich Streets when my phone rings. It’s Gabriel. As he complains I often do, I start talking first, even though he called me.

“I just left Allison’s. I was thinking about heading downtown later and watching my father argue my favorite case.”

Gabriel knows I’m being sarcastic. The case in question is the money-laundering trial of Nicolai Garkov, a matter that has consumed my father for nearly a decade. Gabriel, however, doesn’t respond to my comment. That’s the first inkling I have that something is wrong.

“What?” I say to break the now-ominous silence.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this over the phone, Ella, but I can’t leave here. I wanted you to hear it from me before it’s all over the media. Lauren Wright was murdered last night.”