The door opened on a tall man, salt-and-pepper hair gone fully white at the temples, giving him a distinguished appearance. He was wearing a full business suit and carrying a case. Simon had been spending the last few days preparing, too, obviously. “Yes?”
“Good morning,” the man said gravely. He did not offer a hand. “My name is Dennis Culpepper, and I represent Child Protective Services.”
Andy had been so certain the man was Simon’s lawyer that it took him a few extra beats for that to register. “I’m sorry?” he managed.
“So am I,” Culpepper said, without any trace of humor. “When my services are required, it means a child’s wellbeing is in danger.”
“I don’t understand,” Andy said, trying to maintain outward calm despite the way his blood was suddenly rushing in his ears.