I smoothed the front of my flowered skirt down over my knees, pulling the fabric tight.

“My mother told the neighbors and the school board that Emma slipped in the maple syrup,” I said.

Marcus laid the hospital file flat between us.

“I’ll take your case pro bono, Rachel,” he said.

“We’ll file for an emergency protective order before the clerk closes at noon.”

He took a fresh yellow legal pad out of a desk drawer and uncapped his fountain pen.

“In Oakland County, a judge needs clear evidence of a pattern before granting a full protective order against an aunt,” Marcus said.