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talk to your lawyer. Or at least get out of here. You’re not welcome any longer.” I moved closer, intending to force him to back off. I didn’t want him here. His presence reminded me of those poor, suffering puppies and dogs in those horrible, cramped conditions. Not to mention the pups rescued from the storm drain.
    When he didn’t move, I glanced at Nina, who sat behind the desk, pale and clearly upset. “Please go call 911,” I told her.
    “But I don’t want to leave you . . .” She glanced at Efram.
    I didn’t especially crave being alone with him, either, but I wanted her away from this volatile man. “Go,” I insisted. Nina darted past us into my office.
    I was concerned, sure, but at least Efram and I faced off in a relatively public place. The woman wanting to leave her dog was due any minute. Volunteers and employees of HotRescues always signed in here, in the main reception area. I had nothing to worry about. Besides, he abused vulnerable animals that were smaller than him and couldn’t fight back. His grabbing me before didn’t really mean he’d hurt people.
    I hoped.
    As we stood there, Dr. Mona Harvey walked in. Short, professionally clad in a shirtwaist, she was our esteemed staff psychologist and part-time adoption counselor. “Hi, Lauren. Efram.” She glanced at the latter shrewdly and inquisitively but didn’t ask why he was there. Instead, she signed the sheet on the desk and continued through, obviously reluctant to interrupt.
    I nearly asked her to stay, but what good would that do? Besides, the cops would be here soon, if Nina had called as I’d requested. And I was sure she had.
    Efram didn’t leave, but the steam of his anger appeared to be cooling. “Lauren, can we talk?” His voice held no menace now. He actually looked exhausted, and worried. Was this change of attitude for real?
    I didn’t believe it. “No,” I said. “Please leave.”
    Instead, he turned and planted himself on a chair at the side of the elongated table for visitors, where people interested in pet adoption were interviewed and filled out forms. It was located under the window that opened to the street. “Please, Lauren. Sit down.”
    I ignored his request, sharpening the intensity of my glare.
    He leaned forward and clasped his large hands between his knees. “I want things the way they were before. I was learning how to really take care of pets, you know that. I love animals. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt them, especially now.”
    “I’m not the judge of that,” I responded evenly. I could act a role, too, if I needed to. And right now, displaying any of the anger that seethed inside me wouldn’t boot him out of here. “I’m not the one who arrested you. But I did see you there at that puppy mill. And someone threw those poor little beagles down the storm drain.”
    “Not me!” he shot back, half standing. I tried to keep my expression indifferent, but he scared me.
    I could admit that to myself, but no way would I admit it to him.
    Matt Kingston wasn’t here to pull Efram away if he attacked. Neither was anyone else. Even if Mona had stayed, I doubted she’d be able to do more than attempt, in her shrink’s way—most likely unsuccessfully—to get this obviously upset man to chill out.
    “Maybe not.” I kept my voice neutral as I glanced at my watch. “I’m expecting someone any moment who’s supposed to bring in a dog. Really, Efram, leave. Now.”
    His face became a mask of annoyance that he bit back as fast as a Jack Russell terrier chases a ball. “Soon,” he said. “Right now, I want to visit the animals.” He rose suddenly and darted past me.
    By the time I caught up, he’d opened the gate into our shelter area. Albert, a gray miniature poodle mix in the first enclosure on the right, saw us and started barking, which turned the entire locale into a cacophony of dogginess. Despite how I usually discouraged that kind of noise, I wanted to thank Albert for starting the