The second was a medical report.
The third was a transcript of a recorded conversation.
And when he reached the fourth document, his expression hardened.
« Mr. Vance, » he said, looking over his glasses, « I strongly suggest that you remain seated. »
My son Daniel had already risen halfway from his chair.
His expensive gray suit was perfectly pressed. His hair was neatly combed, and his expression carried the practiced concern of a man who had spent weeks rehearsing how devastated he was supposed to look.
Beside him, Vanessa sat with her hands clasped in her lap.
She had chosen a modest cream-colored blouse for the hearing. Her makeup was understated, and she wore a small silver cross around her neck.
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