Claire pushed the transcript across the counter.

“Hang on to that copy.

Some lawyer’s going to want the original before the week’s over.”

The Monroe Street office opened at eight thirty, and Sarah Vance already had the copier going.

Sarah, the caseworker, kept a fern on her desk that had gone brown at the tips and a mug she reheated four times a day.

Claire passed her the manila envelope with the audio log inside and the transcript clipped to the front.

Sarah read the first page on her feet, then sat down and read it through again.