“Custody,” she said. “That gets ugly.”

“Especially when there’s enough money to pay lawyers indefinitely, and you get stuck with an idiot judge. I try to limit myself to smart judges.”

“Find any?”

“It’s a challenge.”

The drinks arrived. We clinked glasses and drank in silence. She twirled the stem, inspected the menu, said, “I’m starving, will probably gorge again.”

“Go for it.”

“What’s good?”

“I haven’t been here in years.”

“Oh?” She seemed amused. “Did you pick it to indulge my carnivorous tendencies?”

“Yours and mine. Also, I recalled it as relaxed.”

“It is.”

Silence. My face warmed- Scotch and awkwardness. Even in the dim light I could see that she’d colored.

“Anyway,” she said. “I don’t know if I ever thanked you, but you made talking about my experience as easy as it could’ve been. So thanks.”

“Thanks for helping. It made a difference.”

She scanned the menu some more, gnawed her lower lip, looked up, said, “I’m thinking T-bone.”

“Sounds good.”

“You?”

“Rib eye.”

“Major-league beefathon,” she said. She looked at the empty booth again, brought her eyes back to the tablecloth, seemed to be studying my fingertips. I was glad I’d filed my nails.

“You’re taking time off from crime cases,” she said, “but you’ll go back to it.”

“If I’m asked.”

“Will you be?”

I nodded.

She said, “I never got to ask you. What draws you to that kind of thing?”

“I could recite some noble speech about righting wrongs and making the world just a little bit safer, but I’ve stopped fooling myself. The truth is, I have a thing for unpredictability and novelty. From time to time, I need a shot of adrenaline.”

“Like a race car driver.”

I smiled. “That glamorizes it.”

She drank wine, kept the glass in front of her lips, lowered it, and revealed her own smile. “So you’re just another adrenaline junkie.” She ran a finger around the base of her glass. “If it’s all about thrills and chills, why not just run cars around the track or jump out of planes?”