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supposed to call with an emergency?  Has someone been dispatched to her house?  Or are you going to let her lie there and bleed to death while you fill out forms?”
    “There is no reason to be rude, ma’am,” the voice droned.  “I have not yet determined if there is an emergency.  Since you refuse to play the voice message for me, this is likely a crank call.”
    “What is your name?” Theia asked.
    “You don’t need to know my name.  You need to play the message for me.”
    “I have told you that is impossible.  I need to speak with your supervisor at once,” Theia demanded.
    The line went silent, except for occasional high-pitched beeps.  After several minutes, another voice came on the line.
    “How may I help you?”
    “Are you the supervisor of the person with whom I was speaking, who refused to tell me her name?” Theia asked.
    “Yes, how may I help you?”
    “I called to report an emergency and to request that someone be sent immediately to the house of Rose Catalino.  She has been badly beaten.  She needs emergency medical treatment and possibly law enforcement assistance as well.  Your operator refused to take my call seriously or to dispatch any help to my client, and accused me of making a crank call.  I am Rose’s lawyer, and she needs help NOW.”
    “I am very sorry for the delay.  I am sending a unit to the address immediately,” the supervisor responded.
    Theia finally exhaled.  “Thank you.”  She dashed down the hall to the bathroom, where she promptly threw up her breakfast and what seemed like her internal organs into the toilet.  She cleaned herself up and went back to her office.
    Theia picked up a file to prepare for an upcoming court date, but found herself staring out the window, wondering where Rose was and if she was alright.  Forcing herself to write a list of issues to cover at the court appearance, soon Theia’s head drifted forward as her eyes closed.  With so little sleep thanks to the nightmare, she probably should have had a second cup of coffee. 
    Too rattled to focus her work, Theia walked down the hall to Mollie’s office. Theia and Mollie each had their own law practice. Mollie had the good sense to do estate planning work as well as family law. She found writing wills and trust documents a welcome break from the stress of practicing family law.
    Theia stood at Mollie’s door.  Mollie looked up.  A former All-American athlete, she was the picture of good health and fitness.  Theia often teased her that she was a smart blond.
    “What’s wrong?” asked Mollie. She could always tell at a glance when something was bothering Theia.
    Theia told her about the previous day in court, and the disturbing phone message.  She was just wrapping up the story when Darcy buzzed in on Mollie’s phone and asked if Theia was in there.  A police detective was at the front desk and wanted to speak with her.
    Theia came out front and saw the impatient officer pacing in the reception area.  He did not look happy to be there.
    “Hi, I’m Theia Pearson,” she said, extending her right hand.
    He ignored her outstretched hand and said, “I need to take your statement. Where can we do this?”
    Apparently something about her pissed him off on sight.
    “My office will be fine,” she replied. They walked to Theia’s office, where she sat in her chair and the detective plopped his pudgy self into one of the two gray guest chairs.
    “So you represent Rose Catalino?” he asked abruptly.
    “Yes.”
    “How long have you represented her?”
    “A few months.”
    “In what capacity?”
    “An order of protection and possible divorce. Is she okay?”
    He glared at her and ignored the question.
    “Did someone go to her house?”
    “I’ll ask the questions here.”
    Theia glared back at him.  She took out a notepad and a pen, and wrote down his name and badge number.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Exactly what it looks like.  I’m writing down your name and