Sitting behind her desk, Cameron didn’t look impressed with that excuse. “He’s a regular Robin Hood out there in his four-million-dollar home.”

Cade wasn’t surprised by her sardonic tone. When Cameron had come on board nearly two years ago as the U.S. attorney for the Northern District of Illinois, she’d made it clear that she considered government corruption cases to be one of her top priorities. While likable and down-to-earth in person—characteristics Cade certainly appreciated in a boss—Cameron had earned a professional reputation of being tough as nails when it came to crooked politicians. As a result, she was well respected both inside and outside the office, and had quickly become a powerful woman within the Department of Justice.

“What are your thoughts on moving forward?” she asked.

Cade had been anticipating this question, and therefore had spent some time thinking it over before dropping by Cameron’s office to discuss these new developments regarding Torino.

“We obviously need to talk to the FBI about launching an investigation into Representative Fleiss. And, reluctantly, I think it’s in our best interests to cut a deal with Torino in exchange for getting his statements on the record.” He wasn’t pleased to see Torino get off with a lighter sentence, but sometimes that was how the game was played.

Still, he didn’t intend for the hospital CEO to get off scot-free. “I told Torino and his lawyers that I won’t drop the charge in the Sanderson case. I did say, however, that I would consider agreeing to petition the judge for a Rule Thirty-five reduction in light of Torino’s cooperation and ask for eighteen months’ incarceration in a minimum-security facility.”

Cameron mulled this over. “It’s sad, really. Torino served as chairman on two of the most powerful hospital lobbying organizations in Illinois. He could’ve used that influence for so much good instead of resorting to bribery.”

“Even if we don’t agree to the reduced sentence, Torino likely won’t get more than four years,” Cade said. “It’s his first offense, and his lawyers can point to all the supposed good he’s done in the community. This way, at least we get Representative Fleiss, too.”

Cameron toyed with a pen, taking her time to think through the options. She sighed. “As much as it leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, I agree. Make the deal.”

Cade gave her a nod. “Done.”

Cameron leaned back in her chair, studying him. “You’re making quite a name for yourself with these corruption cases. People are going to be watching you with even more interest.”

“Good. At least it gives them something to focus on besides the damn Twitter Terrorist case.”

Cameron laughed at the reference to the infamous computer hacking case, one that Cade had been assigned while working under Cameron’s predecessor. It was something of an inside joke between them, a reference to the days when they’d been AUSAs in the special prosecutions division together, working for an egomaniac boss who’d turned out to be corrupt himself. Thankfully for Cade and everyone else in the office, things were much better now that Cameron was running the show.

“I think you’ve given people plenty to be interested in besides the Twitter Terrorist case,” Cameron said. “Speaking of which, I’m glad you stopped by today. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

She folded her hands on top of her basketball-sized stomach, using it as a shelf. “Assuming all goes according to plan, Baby Boy Pallas will be here in about eight weeks. Which is a good thing—if it went much longer than that, I think Jack and I would be blacklisted at every baby store in the Chicago area.”

Cade chuckled. To say that Cameron’s husband, FBI Special Agent Jack Pallas, was a bit protective of his pregnant wife and unborn child would be an understatement. “What did Jack do now?”

“In addition to returning our third baby monitor in a row for having ‘questionable security controls,’ this weekend he interrogated the guys who delivered the baby furniture for forty-five minutes on their ‘training and special skills in the crib-installation arena.’”

Cade laughed at the image. He’d seen Pallas’s interrogation face—it wasn’t for the faint of heart. “Did they pass?”

Cameron shook her head. “Nope. So now I’ve got a box the size of a refrigerator sitting in the baby’s room instead of a crib. Jack asked Nick and Sam to come over this weekend,” she said, referring to two other FBI agents in the Chicago office. “Apparently, they’re going to put it together themselves.”

“What do McCall and Wilkins know about putting a crib together?”

“Exactly.” Despite Cameron’s wry tone, there was an unmistakable sparkle of happiness in her eyes. “Anyway, I’ve told the attorney general that I plan to take three months off for maternity leave, and we’ve agreed that the logical course is to name an acting U.S. attorney while I’m gone. The smoothest transition would be to temporarily promote someone from within the office, so the attorney general asked for my top recommendation. Which means . . .” she paused, with a sly expression, “that if you’re interested, the position of acting U.S. attorney is yours.”

Cade blinked. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” Cameron said. “You’ve earned it. You’re an excellent trial lawyer, and we have the same agenda in terms of cleaning up Illinois politics. I’m happy—and, candidly, relieved—to know that you’ll be holding down the fort while I’m gone.” She pointed, her gaze firm. “But it’s just for three months, Morgan. I will be back.”