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jeopardize his golden status with Maxwell.”
    “What did you tell him?”
    “I told him to make an anonymous call to the Child Protection Agency. To use the hotline. That the call could not be traced to him. Then I also called the agency. Anonymously. Just to make sure.”
    “And now you’re officially involved in the case. Isn’t that a conflict, a breech of ethics?”
    “Suppose it is?” Katie looked up, staring straight ahead, but avoiding eye contact. “I wanted to help keep those little boys safe.”
    For his fifty-fifth birthday, Pamela Spansky had treated her husband to a concert. They’d seen Evan’s favorite female vocalist, Monica Monroe, at a sellout performance at the Fox Theatre Saturday evening. Being from Detroit, Monica reminded native Detroiters of the raging popularity of the Supremes back in the old days. Pamela’sfavorite was Celine Dion, a Canadian, and for her fiftieth, Evan had taken her to Las Vegas. That time they’d taken their two sons and flown from Toronto. This time they’d left the boys at home and driven from Toronto to Detroit. They’d booked two nights at the Renaissance Hotel to give them a day to recuperate. All had gone well, Monica had put on a spectacular show, but Pamela knew that Evan was anxious to head back home to check on their two sons, Craig and Tim. Not exactly children any more, at age fifteen and sixteen, but Evan was ever watchful, bordering on paranoid, she thought.
    “Check out time’s noon,” Pamela called to her husband. “We told the boys we’d be home for dinner, but we have plenty of time for lunch before we leave.”
    Just as they were getting ready to leave their hotel room Monday morning, Evan called Pamela to take a look at the TV. “There’s been a kidnapping. Right outside Detroit. Two little girls.” Evan paused for a moment. “Geez, they’re Scott Monroe’s kids. He grew up here and he’s Monica Monroe’s brother. How awful for him.”
    Pamela joined him in front of the TV set. “His wife is black?”
    “Guess so,” Evan said, “that I didn’t know. Cute kids. They were in town for the concert, too. How sad is that?”
    “We have to check out, honey. Birthday’s over.”
    With that, Evan clicked off the television.

CHAPTER 6
    The U.S. Government Bailout Pits “Get’s” vs “Get-Nots.”

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Business News
, Monday, June 14, 2009
    Maxwell Cutty paced the length of the great room. Back and forth. What he needed was a massage, a deep one. Sitting alone in that over air-conditioned holding room for hours stiffened his neck. No one had checked on him or asked if he wanted coffee. Then the agent in charge, a total prick, showed up, wanted to know about Adam. Where Adam was, specifically. And that line of questioning made Adam his first problem. Adam, the ingrate, was the root cause of this unacceptable situation. If he hadn’t butted in, and told that shrink lies about how he treated his sons, Aiden and Jake, none of this would have happened. But, even so, Maxwell couldn’t think of Adam’s Adonis body without wondering who he was with? Just thinking of Adam gave him a hard-on. That distraction, he didn’t need.
    Maxwell wrung his hands, still feeling the rage that had erupted that night when Adam had spilled his guts. They’d gone to Bern’s Steakhouse, just the two of them. Adam had been quiet, even moody, during dinner. For an after dinner drink, Maxwell had ordered the most expensive port on the legendary wine list. A real treat that would certainly cheer the boy up, but no, Maxwell watched as Adam’s first tear trickled into the deep purple drink.
    “What’s wrong?” Maxwell had asked.
    “I did something today.” Maxwell had to lean forward to hear him although there were few remaining diners. “I went to see Dr. Katie. Dr. Katie Monroe, my old therapist,” he’d confessed. “I needed her advice.” Maxwell knew that Adam idolized this Doctor Katie. “I asked her, ‘What should I do?’ he’d said.
    At