“Got it, Daddy,” Ree sang out.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Jason had died once, nearly twenty-five years ago. This was worse than that. This was his entire world shattering. As Ree stood on tiptoe to undo the first lock, then the second.

As she pulled the door fully open to reveal the uniformed officer.

The man carried a folded piece of white paper. His gaze went over Ree’s head and found Jason standing in the entryway of the kitchen, still clutching the phone to his ear.

“Jason F. Jones.”

Jason finally set down the receiver. He moved on autopilot, stepping forward, holding out his hand.

“Consider yourself served,” the county officer said. Then, his mission complete, he pivoted sharply and returned back down the front steps. While across the street, the photographers began to snap away.

Jason unfolded the piece of paper. He read the official court order demanding that he produce his child tomorrow morning at eleven A.M. at the local playground, where she would have a one-hour visitation with her grandfather, the honorable Maxwell M. Black. A full hearing on visitation rights would follow in four weeks. Until then, Maxwell Black was permitted one hour every day with his granddaughter, Clarissa Jane Jones. So ordered the court.

Each day. Every single day. Max and Ree together. Max seeing Ree, talking to Ree, touching Ree. Jason, not allowed to supervise. Jason, forced to leave his daughter all alone with a man who’d participated in the abuse of his only child.

“What is it, Daddy?” Ree asked him anxiously. “Did you win something? What did that man bring you?”

Jason pulled himself together, folding up the paper, tucking it into his back pocket.

“It’s nothing,” he assured his daughter. “Nothing at all. Hey, let’s play some Candy Land.”

Ree won three times in a row. She kept producing the Princess Frostine card in four turns or less, a sure sign she was cheating. Jason was too distracted to call her on it, and she became even more disgruntled. She was looking for boundaries. The world had rules, those rules kept it safe.

Jason gave up on board games, and made them grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch. Ree sulked at the kitchen counter, dipping her sandwich into the soup. He mostly stirred his soup around and around, watched the croutons turn bloodred.

Court order was still folded up, tucked in his back pocket. As if reducing it down to a small scrap of paper could reduce the power it held over his and his daughter’s lives. He finally understood why Sandra had walked away so easily from her home and her father, and why she’d never been tempted to call, not even once, for the past five years.

Maxwell Black played for keeps. And the judge knew how to twist the law to get exactly what he wanted. Son of a bitch.