He reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys.

“She thinks she can hide behind her lawyers.”

“Julian, listen to me,” Martin said, his tone sharpening.

“Do not leave this house.”

“If you try to contact her, or if you go looking for her, you will make this infinitely worse.”

“She’s at her mother’s house in Danbury,” Julian said.

“She always runs there when she’s angry.”

“If you go to her mother’s house, Lydia will file for an emergency protective order immediately,” Martin warned.

“They are already preparing the paperwork.”

“If you show up there, you will be handed a court order by the local police.”

Julian did not seem to hear him.

He walked past Martin, his shoulder brushing against his lawyer’s arm.

“I am going to get my son,” Julian said.

The feed went quiet as he walked out of the study, leaving the door wide open.

Martin stood alone in the room for a moment, looking down at the desk.

Then, he picked up his briefcase, sighed, and followed Julian out.

I sat in the Maine diner, the cold plastic of the earbud still pressed into my ear.