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hit on her because she was so good-looking and he was too drunk to remember that she was a lesbian.
    “She still nagging you about the way you dress?”
    Alex blushed, resenting her body’s involuntary response, ducking her head. “She says that I’m old enough to know that there are more colors than black, gray, and white and more styles than pants and jackets.”
    “Well, don’t listen to her. You always look just fine when you’re in my court. Professional all the way.”
    “Thanks, Judge. I’ll be sure to cite you as my fashion authority the next time Bonnie tries to talk me into wearing a dress.”
    Alex wondered why she was getting his charm treatment. They weren’t drunk and she wasn’t pretty like Bonnie, whose blond hair, sapphire eyes, and lush body placed her securely in the one percent. Alex saw herself as part of the ninety-nine percent, her features and shape ordinary, no matter how often Bonnie told her she was extraordinary.
    “So what’s Bonnie’s take on all this free-the-guilty or condemn-the-innocent business?”
    “She says there’s no good answer, both are equally bad, and that she’d rather make a life-or-death decision in the ER than serve on a jury in a death penalty case.”
    “That’s why she’s the doctor and you’re the lawyer. It’s been a long time since you took criminal procedure. What do you think now?” Judge West asked.
    “I think it’s not my job to decide guilt or innocence. That’s up to the jury. Innocent people get convicted. We know that from all the ones who were later exonerated. So I have to assume that guilty people also go free.”
    “Doesn’t that bother you?”
    “Of course it bothers me, but I can’t let it bother me too much. Otherwise, I couldn’t do my job. Besides, no one ever claimed the system was perfect, and no one has ever come up with a better one.”
    Judge West refilled both their glasses. “Maybe you could do your job a little differently and it wouldn’t have to bother you.”
    Alex squinted, trying to parse his meaning. “I don’t follow.”
    “Due process does not require that every conceivable step be taken, at whatever cost, to eliminate the possibility of convicting an innocent person.”
    “Justice Byron White wrote that in his majority opinion in Patterson v. New York . I know the case. But that’s not what we’re talking about. The public defender’s office is so strapped we practically have to bring pencils from home. We’re lucky if we can take half the steps we think we should, let alone every conceivable step.”
    “It’s not just how many steps you take; it’s which ones. That’s the trick, isn’t it?”
    Alex stared into her glass, trying to decide what the judge meant. “I do the best job I can for my clients with the resources I have. I can’t do any less than that.”
    Judge West leaned back in his chair, holding his glass. “You know who asked the best question during the whole damn trial? Jameer Henderson. Poor bastard. ‘What am I gonna do now?’ That’s what he asked you when you got through with him. Tell me, Counsel, how are you going to answer his question if your client walks out of here a free man? You said it yourself. It’s not healthy to be a snitch.”
    “Jameer Henderson is not my problem. I didn’t subpoena him and I didn’t make him lie to the jury. He knew what he was doing and he knew the risks he was taking.”
    “Spoken like a true believer.”
    “Spoken like a lawyer who knows her duty to her client.”
    West raised his glass, saluting her. “Here’s to doing our jobs.”
    Margot Bates knocked and opened the door. “We have a verdict.”

Chapter Six
    “YOU WON,” BONNIE SAID to Alex, “but you look like you lost. I’ve seen longer faces on a funhouse mirror. What’s up with that?”
    They were in their den in their matching easy chairs, feet on their ottomans, a wedge-shaped table stacked with books and magazines between them. Quincy, their Wheaten terrier, was