“Well, a bystander noticed that Buster was in your car on his own with the engine running. You were in the post office. Does that ring a bell, Evelyn? It would have been yesterday, or possibly the day before.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“I’m afraid the bystander wrote down your vehicle license number,” Minerva says.

We wait. Frank’s shoulders slump. Thoughts flicker across Evelyn’s face like she’s assessing a poker hand.

“If it was me, I was only in the post office for two minutes.”

“Two?” I say. “Are you sure?”

Frank elbows his wife suddenly, his voice cracked. “You fucking idiot. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“He was asleep!” Evelyn drags deeply on her cigarette and billows a long, straight plume of smoke over Buster’s head.

Minerva turns to me with a look that says, I’ve got this. But she doesn’t. Meanwhile, Buster keeps reaching up to his mother’s face, but each time she jerks her chin out of his way.

He wants you to look at him, I think. Why won’t you?

“He was fucking sleeping when I pulled up. All right? I didn’t want to wake him. I left the car running because otherwise, the air-conditioning would shut off and it was the afternoon and hot. I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“Totally. No. I get that.” Minerva takes out a notebook, writes something and underlines it. “I’m a mother, too, Evelyn.”

Evelyn rolls her eyes, but Minerva continues as though she hasn’t seen. “I know how hard it can be to get things done with a little one in tow. But you can’t leave Buster unattended. What if something happened? What if someone jumped in the car and just took off with him? You can’t …” She searches for the most diplomatic phrasing. “Just don’t do that again, okay?”

“She won’t,” Frank mutters.

Evelyn lowers her head. I watch as ash droops on the end of her cigarette, then falls to the floor. “Are you taking Buster away?” she asks flatly.

Oh, God, if only we could. The rules of procedure make it hard to remove a child. We need more evidence to present to court, but the second home visits are scheduled and never the same. The Floyds would have time to hide the drugs they’re probably using. Minerva knows this, too, so why isn’t she being more proactive?

She snaps her notebook shut. “We’re not taking Buster anywhere. Absolutely not. Do you know what I see?”

Abuse! I want to scream. Neglect! A boy being thrown to the wolves!