Once more he breathed with her until he felt better. He started to take his hand from his pocket to tell her that he was okay, but remembered what she’d said and shoved it back in. She gave him a nod of approval.

Detective Kimble pointed to a door at the far end of the hallway. “That’s where we’re going.”

It was another hundred feet. It felt like a thousand, even with Dr. Dani’s hand on his back. Don’t let them put me in jail. Please.

He’d heard stories of what happened to deaf kids in lockup. No one could communicate with them, no one would protect them. They couldn’t hear who was coming and got beaten up. Or worse.

By the time Detective Kimble opened the door to the interview room, Michael was shaking so hard he could barely walk. Dr. Dani helped him to a chair and knelt in front of him so that she was directly in his line of sight. He dragged his trembling hands from his pockets, shoved them through his hair. The tug on the bandaged stitches made him wince as he held his head in his hands. He was rocking himself and he hadn’t even planned to. He couldn’t make himself stop.

“You’re scared,” she signed. “I get it. But you’re making yourself sick.” She squeezed his knees lightly. “Can you trust me?”

He blinked away tears. “I’m so scared,” he voiced, his fingers clutching his hair.

Gently she took his hands from his hair and put them in his lap. “You have pretty hair, Michael. Don’t yank it out or you’ll look like Coach Diesel after all.”

He snorted a shocked laugh, which was probably what she’d been going for, because she smirked before looking over her shoulder. Sitting at the table were Miss Maddie the social worker, Andrew the interpreter, and a man he’d never seen before. About Coach Diesel’s age, he thought, but dressed in a suit that had an actual vest. With a pocket watch chain.

“Who is that?” he asked Dr. Dani.

“Your lawyer. His name is Rex Clausing.” She spelled out the name carefully. “He’s a friend of Coach Diesel’s. Diesel says you can trust him.”

“Do you know him?”

“No. I’ve never seen him before.”

Michael frowned. “Then how do you know who he is?”

“Because he said his name when we came in.”

When she’d looked over her shoulder at him. Okay. That made sense. But the man did not look like a friend Coach Diesel would have. Coach was big and rough and looked like he should be in a motorcycle gang or lifting weights in a sweaty gym. The lawyer—Rex Clausing—looked like a professor.

He was too neat. Too smart-looking. Too . . . something that Michael didn’t trust.