He entered Chris’s room and closed the door quietly. Chris was sitting on his bed. His room was dark but for a small reading light. A slight breeze wafted in the open window, ruffling the drapes.

“What’s up?”

“‘What’s up’?” said Chris, stiffening. “What the fuck do you mean, ‘What’s up’?”

“Chris, I know this is really bad right now but—”

“Whoa! Just let me stop you there before you say what I think you’re gonna say.”

Spencer stopped.

“For a second there, it seemed like you were going to come out with one of your ‘oh-I-got-this-under-control-so-don’t-worry’ bullshittisms. You’re worse than Fox fucking News.”

“Chris, calm down, I’ll tell—”

Chris spoke in a furious whisper. “Don’t give me the ‘calm down’! I don’t know if you noticed, but your daughter was kidnapped today, and now there’s a two hundred and forty pound psychopath on my couch. And he has all our phones. You mother­fucker, Spence.”

They began to talk over each other.

“Chris, we need to keep it together here. If we don’t—”

“Oh, rich coming from you.” Chris was shaking his head. “People said I was being suckered by you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hey, I never kept a tab, but everyone else gave up on you.”

“And we fitted in with your life.”

“Fuck you, Spencer. Fuck you! This shit’s been going on for a long time, from way before the Rock’s crazy cousin came to stay. That Spencer-shaped line out there on the fire escape? That was just another night for you. But when I dragged your sorry-for-itself ass to bed it meant five trips to the chiropractor for me.”

“Come on, Chris, you’d have paid a lot more than that to keep Abby around. Did you ever want me to get it together?”

Chris leaped off his bed. He jabbed his finger at Spencer. “Jesus, I . . . just fuck you! You think I never thought about you? I tried to get you all the help I could. I got wasted with you here, so you wouldn’t wake up in the drunk tank or worse. I cooked and I cleaned. I watched my neighbors cut me off, one by one. And I took it all for Team Spencer. Why the hell do you think I—”

He broke off.

“What?” said Spencer.

“Forget it.”

“No, what?”

All of a sudden, Chris’s anger visibly drained away. He sat back down on his bed looking guilty, terribly guilty. The light dawned on Spencer.

“You made the call.”

Chris sighed. He got up, walked heavily to the window, and leaned on the sill. He stared out over the trees and rooftops of Buena Vista and Tyler, far away to the headlights twinkling through the smoggy haze above the Lodge Freeway.

“You’re the one who called CPS. Just when I was going to be signed off.”