On Monday morning, Jake Tillman glanced at his watch and decided he had just enough time to stop for a decent coffee on the way to the office. He knew it would be the only one of the day—the coffee at the district attorney’s office was always cold, but still somehow managed to taste burned.

The day was already in full swing at the coffee shop in downtown New Falls. A group of men in their sixties, all fit if a bit paunchy in their matching spandex biking gear, clomped around in cycling shoes, taking their coffees outside for a postride chat. Inside there were half a dozen people in line, mostly moms in yoga pants with expensive strollers, sure to order complicated latte creations that would hold up the line. Nobody, aside from Jake, looked like they were on their way to work. How did people do it around here?

Coffee finally in hand, Jake swung his briefcase over his shoulder and walked the two blocks to the Hart County Courthouse, which housed the prosecutor’s offices. In a town of brick rowhouses and window flower boxes, the courthouse, with soaring concrete arches and a wall of glass, struck an odd contrast. But what was fresh in the sixties was fading now, and Jake always felt that the fluorescent lights and linoleum floor made his position as an assistant district attorney in a small, wealthy town seem dreary rather than dashing. During his days at law school down at Temple University, he’d imagined himself in an office with parquet floors and brass fixtures. Maybe even a bar cart. The reality of public service had turned out to be a little different.

After passing through the metal detectors in the lobby, Jake took the elevator to the second floor. He slid his key into the door, but the handle moved freely beneath his hand. Someone had beaten him in.

“Is that you, Jake?” called a raspy voice. Donna, assistant to the head district attorney, Hal Buckley, was sitting at her desk outside of Hal’s closed office door.

Jake looked at his watch. “Don’t tell me Hal’s here this early.”

Donna glanced at the planner on her desk. “Hal has meetings off-site this morning. He won’t be in until after lunch.”

“Sounds like tennis and lunch at the club to me.”

Donna smiled. “It’s good to be the boss.”

“It certainly is.”

Donna glanced at the paper under Jake’s arm. “You’re not going to need that. The news came to you this morning. Jimmy’s waiting for you in your office.”

Jake perked up. “Something interesting?”

“I’ll let him tell you. He’s practically salivating.”