“Michael, don’t do this right now,” Lena said in a quick, defensive whisper.

“We’re here to have a nice lunch with our son.”

Noah stopped coloring.

He gripped his left sleeve tight with his right hand and shrank back into the vinyl seat.

“I saw a restricted docket file with your name on it,” Michael said straight to Travis.

“I want to know what’s in it.”

Travis laughed.

It was a sharp bark that made two women in the next booth turn around.