“Debba, tell me about your kids.” The woman looked up. “How old are they? What are their names?”

“Um, I have two. Skylar, he’s my son, he’s six. And Whitley’s my little girl. She’s three and a half.”

“Where are they right now?”

“At my mother’s house. We all live there. I moved in a few years ago when Jeremy left us.” Debba drew a deep breath. “We’ve never had any problems before. He made his support payments, he got his visits with Whitley, and other than that he left us alone.”

“No visits with Skylar?”

Debba shook her head. “No. Jeremy couldn’t handle being a father to an autistic kid. He divorced me when Whitley was a baby. He was dead sure that she’d turn out to be like her brother.”

“That’s terrible!” Kevin Flynn’s outburst made both women look over at him. He reddened. “I mean, a guy turning his back on his handicapped kid and his baby.”

Debba nodded. “Your preaching to the choir here.”

“So why is he suddenly set on taking full custody of both the children?” Clare asked.

Debba clenched her fists. The handcuffs clicked. “He always wanted to institutionalize Skylar. After it was obvious that Whitley was… normal, he used to bring it up every now and again. Said it would give me more time for her. The implication being, of course, that time spent on Skylar was wasted. But he never said anything about taking her himself.” She pulled her arms apart, watching as the handcuffs dug into her flesh.

Clare laid her hands over Debba’s. “Stop it. Hurting yourself isn’t going to help your kids, any more than hurting Dr. Rouse will.”

“I just don’t know how I’m going to fight him. It’s not like I’ve got the money to hire a decent attorney. Or any attorney. God. My mom said I ought to give up my art and get a real job.”