“Spare us both the billable hours and the dramatic entrance.”

“Where’s my brother, Bradley?”

“He’s at home with his mother, which is where a fourteen-year-old boy belongs.” Bradley tapped the pen against his palm in a steady, rhythmic click.

“The paper in your hand is a formal notice of non-interference.”

I broke the top flap of the envelope and drew out three crisp white pages bound in dark blue legal backing.

“You’ve listed my active duty status in the Navy Reserve as proof of domestic instability,” I said.