Spencer became conscious of the people in line behind him: shuffling, an impatient exhalation of breath. He was sweating.

He leaned over her desk. “I am not going anywhere till I get five minutes with my case officer, the one who’s decided I’m not able to keep my daughter. How hard is that for you to understand?”

“I’ll see what I can do, Mister Burnham.”

Her finger slid under the desk and pressed a panic button.

“Thank you.” Spencer sat down. He felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him.

A few minutes later a door opened and Ray the security guard appeared. His eyes fell on Spencer, then flicked to the receptionist who confirmed target acquired with a discreet nod.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir.”

If the reception had been quiet before, silence attained new meaning now. That poorly air-conditioned and windowless room seemed to pulse with the anticipation of something fairly dramatic on the bill.

Spencer looked at Ray. The guy was big. Looked like he could have been a varsity football player in his youth and like he still lifted big weights. Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he’d engaged in exercise for exercise’s sake. He’d gotten into a few fights when he used to go out to drink, but on all of those occasions he’d been too drunk to remember what he was fighting about and who’d won. The same had gone for most of his opponents.

Ray held the door with one hand and rested the other lightly on his utility belt. Spencer looked at the belt. Not just a gun but mace, a nightstick, cuffs.

Spencer sat back in his seat.

I’m not going anywhere.

Ray advanced, flipping open the pouch containing the mace while extracting his nightstick. The technique was one that often worked well. Most people needed time to psyche themselves up. He chose not to give them that time.

Spencer rose, getting ready to land just one hit before the mace or the nightstick got him.

“Mister Burnham?”

The female voice penetrated the arena, freezing both men in their tracks. They turned to the doorway where Caitlyn Dunn stood holding a folder.

Once again, Spencer found himself in Caitlyn Dunn’s office. Again the sun beat down on him. He thought about asking whether he could adjust the blinds but decided against it. Clearly, she was unimpressed by his entrance as it was.

“You realize your behavior merely confirms we’re doing the right thing with regard to Abby, Mister Burnham?”

“What, you think me being prepared to raise a little hell to keep my daughter is a bad thing?”

“I think the methods you use and the decisions you make work against you.”

“Look, I’m here now. I’m listening. Tell me what I have to do.”

“What do you mean?”