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with it; I had to promise him my firstborn if I didn’t return it in perfect condition.”
    “I’ll be careful. I’m going to be in pokey Judge Kaylor’s courtroom. As slow as she is, I’ll have plenty of time to review it between hearings.” She took the album and walked to Department One.
    Sabre found a seat in the back corner of the courtroom where she wouldn’t be interrupted while she waited for her case to be called. She looked at the bright pink cover, untied the ribbon, and opened it. On the first page she saw a sonogram and the words, “Alexis’ first photo.” It had her footprints, her first artwork, and a photo of her every year on her birthday. It contained awards ranging from “The Sandbox Award” through “Best Citizen.” The album held spelling-bee conquests, ribbons from sporting events, and poems Alexis had written. It captured Alexis’ life from birth to present.
    As Sabre studied the album, Bob walked in and took a seat next to her. She handed it to him. “Have a look at this. A lot of effort and love went into this album. Murdock obviously cares a great deal about his little girl, his ‘pride and joy.’”
    “Hmm . . . He seems genuinely concerned about his unborn child as well. If what he said about the fight is true, he has good reason for concern. Unfortunately, in this state, there isn’t anything a father can really do until his baby is born. He certainly has no means to keep the mother from using if she decides to. He can’t lock her up or place any kind of physical restraints on her to protect his child.”
    “I guess his frustration is understandable . . . if it’s true.”

6
     
     
    The sun had set and twilight faded enough to make the lights inside Sabre’s office visible. After her experience on Saturday night, she felt relieved to have company. She entered through the back door, dropped her files on her desk, and walked to the front of the building to say hi to Elaine, the receptionist.
    Sabre’s office, furthest from the front entrance and the least desirable of the three, seemed perfect to her. Jack Snecker occupied the front office. He had first pick since he discovered the building, leased it for himself, and then sublet the office space to other attorneys. The building had once been a beautiful, old Victorian home. Fortunately, someone had the foresight to convert it to office space rather than tear it down. Jack’s office, the largest, had once been the living room. It had a beautiful bay window across the front providing him a view of the street from his huge, antique mahogany desk and chairs. In front of the fireplace, a little settee and a couple of chairs created a cozy sitting area for guests.
    “Hi Elaine,” Sabre greeted the receptionist. “How has your day been going?”
    “Not bad, actually,” she responded with her dry sense of humor. “The copy machine broke down again, I spilled coffee on my desk and made a big mess, I accidentally hung up on Jack’s wife when she called, but the good news is we’ve only had eight calls today from your favorite Looney tune, Crazy Carla. I don’t know how you can deal with that woman. She ranted and raved about some nonsense. I couldn’t make any sense of it.”
    “She has problems we can’t even imagine, Elaine.” Sabre sighed. “I’ll call her in a minute and calm her down. Did you hear anything from the Atlanta Police Department?”
    “Oh yeah, here’s the fax and your mail.” Elaine handed her the police report on Peggy Smith and the stack of mail she had opened for her. “One of the pages is not legible, though. I called and left a message, but it’s late in Atlanta so you’ll probably have to wait until tomorrow. I didn’t speak to Detective Carriage. I left a message with some night clerk.”
    “Thanks, Elaine.” Sabre took the report, along with the twenty-two pink slips containing phone messages, and went to her office. She shuffled through the pink slips as she walked down the