“I’m not dropping it down from burglary to nighttime breaking and entering.” On that he was going to stand firm, but he would throw her a crumb. “Even if we agree to handle him as a juvie, the judge isn’t going to let him walk with probation.”

Rachel gathered up her briefcase. “Just leave the judge to me. Who’d we pull?”

Haridan grinned. “Beckett.”

Marlene C. Beckett was an eccentric. Like a magician, she pulled unusual sentences out of her judge’s robes as if they were little white rabbits. She was in her midforties, dashingly attractive, with a single streak of white hair that swept through a wavy cap of fire-engine red.

Personally, Rachel liked her a great deal. Judge Beckett was a staunch feminist and former flower child who had proven that a woman—an unmarried, career-oriented woman—could be successful and intelligent without being abrasive or whiny. She might have been in a man’s world, but Judge Beckett was all woman. Rachel respected her, admired her, even hoped to follow in her footsteps one day.

She just wished she’d been assigned to another judge.

As Beckett listened to her unusual plea, Rachel felt her stomach sinking down to her knees. Beckett’s lips were pursed. A bad sign. One perfectly manicured nail was tapping beside the gavel. Rachel caught the judge studying the defendant, and Zack, who sat in the front row behind him.

“Counselor, you’re saying the defendant will make restitution for all properties lost, and that though the state is agreeable that he be tried as a minor, you don’t want him bound over for trial.”

“I’m proposing that trial may be waived, Your Honor, given the circumstances. Both the defendant’s mother and stepfather are deceased. His mother died five years ago, when the defendant was fourteen, and his stepfather died last year. Mr. Muldoon is willing and able to take responsibility for his stepbrother. If it please the court, the defense suggests that once restitution is made, and a stable home arranged, a trial would be merely an unproductive way of punishing my client for a mistake he already deeply regrets.”

With what might have been a snort, Beckett cast a look at Nick. “Do you deeply regret bungling your attempt at burglary, young man?”

Nick lifted one shoulder and looked surly. A sharp rap on the back of the head from his stepbrother had him snarling. “Sure, I—” He glanced at Rachel. The warning in her eyes did more to make him subside than the smack. “It was stupid.”

“Undoubtedly,” Judge Beckett agreed. “Mr. Haridan, what is your stand on this?”

“The district attorney’s office is not willing to drop charges, Your Honor, though we will agree to regard the defendant as a juvenile. An offer to lessen or drop charges was made—if the defendant would provide the names of his accomplices.”

“You want him to squeal on those he—mistakenly, I’m sure—considers friends?” Beckett lifted a brow at Nick. “No dice?”

“No, ma’am.”

She made some sound that Rachel couldn’t interpret, then pointed at Zack. “Stand up…Mr. Muldoon, is it?”

Ill at ease, Zack did so. “Ma’am? Your Honor?”

“Where were you when your young brother was getting himself mixed up with the Cobras?”

“At sea. I was in the navy until two years ago, when I came back to take over my father’s business.”

“What rank?”

“Chief petty officer, ma’am.”

“Mm-hmm…” She took his measure, as a judge and as a woman. “I’ve been in your bar—a few years back. You used to serve an excellent manhattan.”

Zack grinned. “We still do.”

“Are you of the opinion, Mr. Muldoon, that you can keep your brother out of trouble and make a responsible citizen of him?”

“I…I don’t know, but I want a chance to try.”

Beckett tapped her fingers and sat back. “Have a seat. Ms. Stanislaski, the court is not of the opinion that a trial would be out of place in this matter—”

“Your Honor—”

Beckett cut Rachel off with a single gesture. “I haven’t finished. I’m going to set bail at five thousand dollars.”

This brought on an objection from the DA that was dealt with in exactly the same manner.

“I’m also going to grant the defendant what we’ll call a provisionary probation. Two months,” Beckett said, folding her hands. “I will set the trial date for two months from today. If during that two-month period the defendant is found to be walking the straight and narrow, is gainfully employed, refrains from associating with known members of the Cobras and has not committed any crime, this court will be amenable to extending that probation, with the likelihood of a suspended sentence.”

“Your Honor,” Haridan puffed out, “how can we be certain the defendant won’t waltz in here in two months and claim to have upheld the provisions?”

“Because he will be supervised by an officer of the court, who will serve as co-guardian with Mr. Muldoon for the two-month period. And I will receive a written report on Mr. LeBeck from that officer.” Beckett’s lips curved. “I think I’m going to enjoy this. Rehabilitation, Mr. Haridan, does not have to be accomplished in prison.”

Rachel restrained herself from giving Haridan a smug grin. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

“You’re quite welcome, Counselor. Have your report to me every Friday afternoon, by three.”

“My…” Rachel blinked, paled, then gaped. “My report? But, Your Honor, you can’t mean for me to supervise Mr. LeBeck.”

“That is precisely what I mean, Ms. Stanislaski. I believe having a male and a female authority figure will do our Mr. LeBeck a world of good.”

“Yes, Your Honor, I agree. But…I’m not a social worker.”

“You’re a public servant, Ms. Stanislaski. So serve.” She rapped her gavel. “Next case.”

Stunned speechless by the judge’s totally unorthodox ruling, Rachel moved to the back of the courtroom. “Good going, champ,” her brother muttered in her ear. “Now you’ve got yourself hooked good.”

“How could she do that? I mean, how could she just do that?”

“Everybody knows she’s a little crazy.” Furious, he swung Rachel out in the hall by an elbow. “There’s no way in holy hell I’m letting you play baby-sitter for that punk. Beckett can’t force you to.”