She looked up at him, giving her polite, no teeth, no-effort-required smile that said, Go on.

“Well, what I mean is, nothing’s changed in my situation since Lonnie closed my case. Work’s picking up. Abby’s doing fine. Your nurse has probably finished with her and could confirm that.”

Caitlyn nodded. Spencer felt his anger simmer. When Caitlyn was sure he’d finished, she spoke as if he hadn’t.

“OK, Mister Burnham. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

His mask of patience was slipping. “No, let’s go for it.”

“Three meetings ago your case officer suggested you attend counseling and support meetings at Common Ground on Washington for drinking, which you agreed to. How’s that going?”

“It’s great. Not that I have a drinking issue. Whoever phoned that one in, she smelled alcohol on my breath when I came to pick up Abby after a working lunch. They can be quite boozy.”

“Which evening support group was it?”

Spencer sighed. “Thursday night. Alcoholics.”

“Right. That’s what it has here,” she said, pointing at his file.

Dear Lord above.

“You’re pretty sure it’s that night you’ve been attending?”

“Hundred percent.”

“Common Ground over in Royal Oak?”

“Yes. Are we going to go through everything this carefully today?”

“That depends I guess on how forthright and cooperative you intend to be with me, Mister Burnham.”

There was something not right here. The sun was beating through the window, hitting the entire left side of Spencer’s body. His crotch and inner thighs felt moist with sweat, his dick hurt, the back of his shirt was sticking to the seat, and he found the way this woman spoke to him, and looked at him, disconcerting.

“And you haven’t been attending those meetings.”

“I . . . what?”

“The last two Thursday nights, I’ve been there. The first time because I was curious to check it out as I’m newly transferred to this office. Second time to accompany a vulnerable client. You weren’t there.”

This was so left of field that for a moment Spencer had nothing. Caitlyn waited. He rallied.

“Look, I’ve come up here whenever you guys have called me. There is no reason for you to suspect I have a drinking problem. I can see in your line of work why you’d think any mention of alcohol is bad news but in the real world sometimes—”

“OK, we can come back to the alcohol. I have another question, possibly more sensitive, but it is relevant to Abby, so I have to ask.”

Spencer made a throwaway gesture and sat back.

“Is there a reason you didn’t take up our recommendation for bereavement counseling in regards to your wife’s death?”

Spencer’s game plan of cool politeness went up like the New Mexico desert during one of those underground nuke tests.