We rode down to the administrative wing in complete silence.

The elevator doors opened onto a long corridor lined with frosted glass windows.

Ms.

Davis sat behind a wide oak desk on the ground floor of the administrative wing.

The office walls were painted a pale beige, bare of any artwork or framed credentials.

A single metal filing cabinet stood locked in the corner next to a dying potted plant.

The social worker kept her hands folded on top of a green blotter.