“Mr.

Whitmore,” Daniel said from my left, his voice slow and unhurried.

“You will not speak to my client.”

“I’m talking to my wife!” Cole hissed, his knuckles pressing hard into the oak table.

“You’re talking to the mother of the children you abandoned on Christmas Eve without medicine,” I said, my voice short and precise.

Cole stared at me, his mouth falling open slightly, but no words came out.

At half past twelve, Judge Miller returned to the bench and arranged the papers in front of her.