Kelly's fingers tightened around her coffee cup. She wanted to demand the video immediately, to push James into action, to prioritize her clients' freedom over caution. But she'd learned enough about how power worked in Auburn to know that desperation was a luxury neither of them could afford.

"How long?" she asked instead, her voice steadier than her hands felt.

James glanced around the coffee shop again. The elderly man had folded his newspaper. The college students remained absorbed in their screens. Marcus wiped down the espresso machine with practiced indifference.

"Two weeks," James said quietly. "Maybe three. I need to file some motions first, create a paper trail that makes sense. If I just hand over exculpatory evidence without explanation, it raises questions. Questions lead to scrutiny. Scrutiny leads to discovery."

Discovery. The word hung between them like a blade suspended above their heads. Discovery of the evidence, yes. But also discovery of them—the midnight texts, the stolen moments in parking garages and empty courtrooms, the way James had begun to undermine cases that conflicted with Kelly's investigations. The way she'd started accepting his help despite knowing it compromised everything she stood for.

"Three weeks is a long time," Kelly whispered. "For people in cells."

"I know." James's voice carried genuine anguish. "But if we rush this, if we create patterns that look coordinated, we both lose our licenses. And then who helps your clients? Who fights for them when we're both gone?"

It was the argument he always made, and it was also the most dangerous one—the one that justified every compromise, every ethical corner they cut. Kelly hated how much sense it made.

She was about to respond when the bell above the door chimed sharply. Both of them stiffened. A woman entered, shaking rain from her shoulders—rain that hadn't been falling moments before, or perhaps they'd simply stopped noticing the world outside their careful bubble.

It took Kelly a moment to recognize her: Sandra Chen, a court administrator who worked in the prosecution's office. The woman whose desk sat directly across from James's.

Sandra's eyes swept across the coffee shop, and for one terrible instant, they locked onto the table where Kelly and James sat. Together. Leaning close. With the unmistakable posture of people who knew each other far too well.