As I take the handkerchief, I notice that Lawrence has lost weight. He’s naturally slim, but his button-down is baggy, and his slacks hang loosely on his hips. Otherwise, he looks the same: piercing blue eyes, a shock of black hair, movie-star teeth. In a few days, he’s turning fifty-four. He’s graying at the temples, and he used to jog so his knees are shot, but otherwise he’s still as loose and energetic as a man in his thirties.

“How’s Billy?” I ask. “For real.”

“Like I said, Cassie, I’m optimistic.” He offers a smile. Lawrence has a killer smile. His whole face lights up and fills with warmth; when he looks at you, you shine. But today his upbeat tone is undermined by his bloodshot eyes and hollow cheeks. “Dealing with the cops yesterday was bleak. But now that I’ve spoken to several lawyers, I’m confident we’ll resolve this mess today. As long as we act quickly. The longer he’s in the system, the harder it is to get him out.”

“Did you get my messages? I tried you, like, ten times. Why didn’t you call me back?”

“I was on the phone all day, looking for a criminal attorney. I like one guy—Peter DeFiore. Supposedly, he’s the best. Plus, he knows New Jersey courts. Eleanor can’t stand him, naturally. And he is a little rough around the edges. But . . .” He pauses. “Regardless, sorry I didn’t call, kiddo, but I knew Nate was reaching out.”

I scoff. “Nate was selective with the details. Which means I need the whole story from you.”

“I wish I had time, honey. But this guy, DeFiore, agreed to meet me at the place where they’re holding Billy. He’ll be there at”—Lawrence checks his watch—“eleven. I can’t be late. He said he might be able to get me inside.”

“Inside the jail?”

“Not a jail,” he corrects me, sharply. “It’s just a detention center.”

“I’ll come.” Standing up, I reach for my canvas tote bag, which is on the floor, open. Leggings, T-shirts, underwear, and bras spill out. Rummaging through the pile, I quickly grab a clean pair of jeans, a sweater, and suede boots, but Lawrence just stands there, watching me.

“Cass, wait. Cassie, stop. It’s better if I sort this out alone. Eleanor will be able to tell you more once she gets back. But you won’t be able to see Billy. I probably can’t either. Regardless, it’s best if I meet the lawyer by myself. Eleanor agrees,” he adds, as if she’s the final authority.