Sylvia glared at me, her fingers tightening around her bag strap until her nails dug into the leather.

“You have no right to speak to me like that in front of my son,” she said.

“Try me,” I said.

“I work in this hospital system, and I know the security guards on this shift.”

A tall security guard standing near the sliding glass doors picked up his radio and took three slow steps toward us, his heavy boots squeaking on the linoleum.

Sylvia saw him moving our way.