"I know we need to talk. But Judge Taylor will have my head if I'm late for court," Sam Prescott whispered in his wife's ear while they watched Ben Stone's immediate family and the procession of pallbearers who carried his coffin disappear up the center aisle of the cathedral.

Melnick waited until they were out of the pew and were moving towards the back of the church before turning to confront her husband.

"Did you know, Sam? If you "know we need to talk" does that mean you knew that your Beth Logan was also-"

"The answer is no," Prescott sighed as he took his wife's arm to guide her out of the crush of mourners in the aisle and into an empty pew. "I had no idea Beth's maiden name was Olivet. Even if I had, I wouldn't have had any reason to hide that fact from you. I didn't even realize you two had a connection until last night."

"Last night?"

"Some of the documents from the Merritt case were in that batch of loose pages I refiled for you," he hurriedly explained as he gave her arms a reassuring squeeze. "Like I said honey, I know we need to talk but my office is goin' be payin' sanctions if I don't high tail it out of here pronto."

"I understand," Melnick conceded as he bent down to plant a quick kiss on her cheek. "Go. I have things to do myself. We'll talk tonight."

Though Melnick was doing an admirable job of keeping her voice low and her tone even, the rigid set of her shoulders and the stony look in her eyes made Prescott uncomfortably aware that a storm was, not only brewing but more than likely, about to it.

"Do I want to know what sort of "things" you have in mind?"

"Not if you want to avoid those sanctions," she retorted, only to relent when the look of hesitation in her husband's eyes transformed into outright panic. "Like you said yesterday, I have a laundry list of things to do before I go back to Chicago. The first of which is to express our condolences to Shambala and the rest of Ben's family at the reception. Call me later so I know if we're having a victory dinner or if it's going to be take-out from Angelino's."

"Will do, honey."

Melnick kept the contrite smile she had pasted on her face in place as she watched Prescott slip his way through the crowd and out of sight before she turned to scan the remaining mourners for any sight of Elizabeth Olivet Logan.

Although she recognized some members of the survivor's group that were lingering near the front of the room, neither the new Mrs. Logan nor her husband were among them. She continued her search after she returned to the aisle to inch her way out of the sanctuary. Though her Prada pumps gave Melnick's 5'4 body another three inches of height, she still found herself straining her toes to scan the crowd for a glimpse of the noted psychologist.

"She couldn't have just vanished into thin air," Melnick irritably murmured as she reached the vestibule, just in time to see the District Attorney and Paul Robinette slip out the doorway.

Melnick immediately changed course to make a beeline to the door… murmuring apologies and pushing her way through the crowd with as much urgency as good manners would allow…in a desperate attempt to catch up with her old friend and adversary before he was able to reach his town car to head back to the District Attorney's office.

Knowing that the new Mrs. Logan had been working with the Justice Department, Melnick reasoned that it was likely that she was also still accepting an occasional case from the DA's office, as well. Which meant that McCoy might be able to help her track down Elizabeth Logan.

Once she cleared the doorway, she could see McCoy was halfway down the cathedral steps, still in solemn conversation with Robinette. She also recognized the driver standing beside the third car, in the mile-long row of black town cars that lined the curb, as McCoy's driver.

"Jack," she called out as she abandoned decorum and bolted towards the stairs. An action her body immediately protested by sending a shooting pain up her bad leg. Usually, Melnick would have heeded the warning, but not this time.

Though not entirely sure of what she would say when she caught up with the well-known psychologist, Melnick wasn't about the leave for Chicago until she had confronted the other woman.

Both men turned towards the church upon hearing Melnick's voice, before lingering at the bottom of the stairs to wait as she made her way towards them.

"Danielle, it looks like you've recovered from your going away party," the District Attorney for New York county remarked as the trio stepped out of the flow of people. "When Brooke and I left you and Sam looked like you were ready to lead the conga line."

Melnick couldn't help but smirk. She'd made a remarkable recovery after the shooting. Not only was she still breathing, she eventually regained a significant amount of the mobility she'd lost on her left side. But the doctor's prediction of, "…being able to dance the night away", once she'd completed the assigned physical therapy, had been a bit of a stretch.

In retrospect, Melnick could see the calculation she had so confidently shared with her old friend and nemesis Jack McCoy, had been generous at best. Even after following her doctor's orders to the letter (which had meant reassigning her cases to associates while she completed a grueling regiment of physical therapy four days a week for six months), Melnick still suffered from sporadic muscle cramps, which increased when the temperature dropped or whenever she forgot her limitations. As she had at the party. As she also had charging down the stairs.

But as much as she hated to admit to herself that she had overdone it; she hated admitting it to McCoy more.

"You know I've always been fast on my feet, Jack; outside as well as inside of court," she quipped as she fought the urge to rub her aching leg. "Nice eulogy by the way. In your 'younger and more vulnerable years' you were 'utterly lost' only to have Ben light your way with his glowing example of integrity? Maybe if you'd been ten when you'd been preparing for your first trial."

"This is coming from you, Danielle? I'd call that the pot calling the kettle black," McCoy lightheartedly retorted.

"I'm sure Shambala appreciated the irony of Ben chastising you when you considered using inculpatory evidence that found it's way into a discovery packet meant for you."

"Not you too, Paul," McCoy protested as he held up his hand in mock surrender; to which Robinette grinned as he shrugged his shoulders.

"As if Ben Stone or anyone else could stop you from taking the ball and running with it."

McCoy turned his attention back to Melnick, deliberately straightening to maximize the effect of looking down his nose at the woman that, even in heels, stood just under his shoulders.

"As much as I'd love to continue listening to you two dissect my tribute to Ben, I'm due at One Police Plaza, so unless you had something else on your mind, Danielle-"

"I did. I need to speak to Liz Olivet…Logan…whatever. She disappeared before I could catch her. I thought you might know if she has business at the courthouse or with one of your ADA's at Hogan Place?"

"Why do you need to talk to Liz," Robinette unexpectedly interjected. "You just closed up shop, didn't you Danielle?"

"I did but…well…," she momentarily faltered; startled and slightly embarrassed with the answer to his query that sprang to mind, though she recovered quickly as a more palatable reply came to mind. "Actually, Sam asked me to speak with her."

"Sam? Why?"

"They've been working on a case," Melnick continued while ignoring McCoy's question and the open confusion on both men's faces. "It's a long story. Anyway, do you know where she is?"

McCoy exchanged cautious glances with Robinette. While he had not been involved in the case against Alexander Merritt, over the years, McCoy had been affected by its fallout.

Neither woman ever directly refused to work on a case when the other was involved. But it didn't take McCoy…along with then sitting DA Adam Schiff… long to see the pattern that developed when Melnick was named as opposing counsel in a case that Liz Olivet was asked to consult on.

Alternatively, Olivet's calendar suddenly filled up when it became clear that more than a written report would be required or Melnick would wave her right to directly confront McCoy's expert witness and either refute Olivet's findings with her own expert's testimony or in chambers… as with the Sandler case.. between the judge and opposing counsel.

"I don't. Liz has cut back on her consulting work in the last several years," McCoy responded as the trio began to move towards the curb. "She's devoted most of her time to private practice. Even more so since she and Logan made it official."

"I had no idea they were together," Robinette admitted as they came to a halt beside McCoy's waiting town car. "I knew there was something there before Logan was transferred to Staten Island but that was years ago."

"I don't know all the details but apparently, Logan contacted her after their relationship came out in court," McCoy began.

"You mean after you had Cutter do your dirty work in the Waxman case," Melnick chimed in.

"I warned Liz the gloves would come off," McCoy snapped making it clear that, despite his indifferent response, the lengths he'd gone to in order to legitimize the controversial expert testimony Cutter had offered to discredit Emma Waxman's defense to the murder of her husband, still left a bad taste in his mouth. "She knew what she was getting into before she took the stand."

"Come on Jack. She might have expected the rape to come up but something as explosive as her sleeping with a patient? I don't even want to know how you found something like that out. No way did you hear it from Mike Logan, and I can't think of a reason Liz would have risked her license by telling anyone, especially anyone in your office about-"

"He wasn't her patient for long, Paul," McCoy shot back, refusing to address the other man's unspoken question. "She immediately referred Logan-"

"Jack, Liz could have lost her license when it came out that she'd slept with a patient, circumstances notwithstanding," Robinette countered.

"I'm not going to apologize to either one of you for putting a murderer behind bars," McCoy stubbornly rejoined as his driver opened the passenger door. "If you don't like the way I do my job Paul, feel free to challenge me in November."

"Wow. Sounds like someone struck a nerve," Melnick observed as McCoy's town car disappeared into the late morning traffic.

"You started it," Robinette jokingly shot back, "by bringing up the Waxman case."

"Jack's a big boy. He can take it. Besides, the Waxman case is yesterday's news. Olivet wouldn't still be consulting for his office if they hadn't already kissed and made up," Melnick remarked before bidding Robinette goodbye and turning her gaze towards the cab stand across the street.

"But not you and Olivet, right Danielle," Robinette continued and surprised her by falling into step with her. "You said Sam wanted you to talk to her. He must not know about the history between you two."

"He didn't but he does now," Melnick shot back; immediately annoyed that she had started to explain herself. "What is this, Paul? I simply asked Jack where I could find a colleague, not whether he could get me an audience with the Pope."

"I was Ben's second chair on the Merritt case, Danielle," Robinette gently reminded her as they followed a cluster of people into the crosswalk.

"I hadn't forgotten," Melnick shot back, though for a moment, she had indeed forgotten Robinette's involvement in the case. "You know I was doing my job. You also know that I was as in the dark as anyone else was and that, in the end, Merritt got what he deserved."

"I do. To all of the above. Which is why I can't imagine you seeking out Liz Olivet for any reason. You said Sam wanted you to talk to her. Do you mind telling me why and what good you think could possibly come from that?"

Actually, I do mind was Melnick's knee jerk reaction. But, as she opened her mouth to blast the former ADA, it occurred to her that Robinette might just be the perfect sounding board.