He was an older man with thick silver eyebrows and a stern mouth.

Carter and Vivian were already seated at the table on the right.

Their attorney, Richard Vance, was sorting through a thick stack of blue-backed legal documents.

Sloane sat in the first row of the gallery.

She wore a plain black dress and kept her hands clamped in her lap.

She looked pale, almost gray under the fluorescent lights.

I sat down next to Lydia.

My hands were cold.

I kept my eyes on the judge.

Judge Harrison cleared his throat.

“We are here on an emergency petition for temporary guardianship and conservatorship,” he said.

“In the matter of Evelyn Vale Hartwell.”

He looked down at us over his reading glasses.

“Mr. Vance, you may proceed.”

Vance stood up, smoothing his tie.

“Your Honor, this is a tragic situation,” Vance began.

“My client, Carter Hartwell, is deeply concerned for his wife’s safety.”

“And more importantly, the safety of their infant daughter, June.”

Lydia sat perfectly still beside me.

She did not make a sound.

“We have filed an emergency psychiatric evaluation,” Vance said.