“She thinks they’re coming to handcuff you because she called your house today.”

She reached into a little cardboard box at the corner of her desk, took out a wrapped peppermint, and pushed it across the wooden blotter toward his hand.

“I’ve treated hundreds of domestic trauma patients in twelve years in this department,” Sarah said.

“Right now your daughter is carrying the blame for your wrecked retirement on her shoulders.

She honestly believes her phone call destroyed your life.”

Richard looked down at the little red candy on the desk.