“I want to press charges.”

Harris nodded slowly, his face expressionless.

“I will have the paperwork prepared for your signature,” he said.

The door to the office opened suddenly.

A young officer leaned in. “Detective, there is a woman in the lobby demanding to see Captain Collins.”

“She says she is his mother.”

I stood up. “I will speak to her.”

“Do you want an officer with you?” Harris asked.

“No,” I said. “I want her to hear me clearly.”

I walked out of the quiet office and back into the noisy lobby.

Linda was standing near the entrance, her designer sunglasses pushed up onto her hair.

Her eyes were red, and her face was pale, devoid of its usual carefully applied color.

When she saw me, she rushed forward, her hands reaching out to grab my forearms.

“Mark, oh thank God,” she cried, her voice carrying across the lobby.

I stepped back, out of her reach, and kept my hands at my sides.

“Do not touch me, Linda,” I said.

She flinched, her hands dropping to her sides.

“Mark, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling.