“I don’t know the Floyd case.” He strokes his tie, a sign that he’s finding the conversation stressful. “There isn’t a previous Family Services file on them—I checked—so all I’ve seen are Minerva’s notes. What I would say, though, is that when you feel at odds with a colleague, Alex, you have to try to find—”

“What did she say? What exactly did she say about me?” I want to go down the corridor and set fire to her office. She’ll be in there right now, playing pop music and eating bridge mix.

“I think she found your demeanor adversarial. Your tone aggressive. That’s a loose précis.”

“This is ridiculous. Has she even opened a Family Services file on the Floyds now?”

“There’s an open file so we can offer support services. There’s no active investigation into the Floyd couple. Just to be clear. And Minerva is the lead on the case.” His skin has blotched pink around his collar.

It’s impossible to do my job if my coworkers pull while I push. I feel sick, like the room is spinning, and somewhere in my mind, I see that little boy again. Except, it’s not him. It’s a different boy. No. I take a deep breath and bring myself back to reality and the problem in front of me. What am I supposed to do? I can’t work with Minerva, but I can’t ask to be taken off the case.

“I wasn’t being aggressive toward Minerva,” I say. “I was simply pointing out that she should be more so herself.”

“Righty-ho.” Another tie sweep. “Listen, why don’t you make some notes and send me an email?”

A jaded laugh escapes me. It’s his go-to, the email request. It gets him out of all confrontation while providing him with a handy paper trail. Nobody says what they mean when they know they’re being recorded.

“You know how it works,” he says, then waits for me to speak. I don’t. I won’t. “Okay, so is that everything? Can we agree that you’ll approach your coworker with a little more decorum and respect for her authority?”

I wonder if he can see the muscle in my jawline tweaking.

“She might have a different approach to yours, Alex, but it’s not without merit. Hmm?”

I have to play the long game, not lose my temper. I need time to think. “I’ll try harder to incorporate her ideas,” I mumble. “But to be clear, I’m in it for the kids, Morris. I always have been. And I’m worried about that boy.”

“I know that. I know. We’re all working from a place of good intention. Best to remember that. But sometimes, slow and steady wins the race, right?”