Christopher looked up as I entered, his curious expression turning sullen and unwelcoming, telling me everything I needed to know before I could even open my mouth.

"I know why you're here, Miss Fleming," he said, looking down instantly, bitterness in his voice. "I have zero influence over my father, so asking me to do anything about the assault charge is a waste of time." He met my eyes again, then, chest puffing out under his golf shirt, lips a tight line of disapproval. ...