The bell above the door chimed again, and Kelly's entire body went rigid. Through the coffee shop window, she caught the reflection of a familiar silhouette entering—Detective Sarah Chen from the Auburn Police Department, the same officer who'd been present during the original investigation of her clients' case.

Kelly's mind raced through the calculations of exposure. Chen wasn't on her radar as someone who frequented Grounds for Thought. The detective preferred the chain coffee shops near the precinct, the ones where other officers gathered. Her presence here, now, felt like a collision of worlds Kelly had worked desperately to keep separate.

James had already noticed. She could see the shift in his posture, the way his shoulders tensed beneath his suit jacket. He stood abruptly, moving toward the counter with deliberate casualness, but the movement felt wrong—too sudden, too panicked for someone simply leaving a coffee shop.

Kelly turned away, pretending to study the pastry display case. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She could feel Chen's eyes scanning the shop, the professional habit of a detective taking in details. Would she recognize James? Would she wonder why the prosecutor was here, in this struggling neighborhood coffee shop, at this particular moment?

Marcus, the barista, seemed to sense the tension. He moved with unusual focus, attending to Chen with extra attention, asking detailed questions about her order that seemed designed to keep her at the counter, facing away from the rest of the shop.

James reached the door, his hand on the frame. He didn't look back at Kelly. The protocol was clear—separate exits, no acknowledgment, maintain the fiction of coincidence. But the timing was disastrous. If he left now, if Chen turned around at precisely the wrong moment, she might see them together, might notice the connection that passed between them in those final seconds.

Kelly made a decision. She couldn't let him leave alone, couldn't let this moment stand out in memory as unusual. She needed to create context, to provide an explanation for their presence here that would feel natural, inevitable, unsuspicious.

She moved toward the door herself, her files clutched to her chest, her expression arranged into the neutral mask of a professional woman finishing her coffee break. Their eyes met for just a fraction of a second—long enough to communicate the risk, the choice, the terrible necessity of what came next.