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not to spill it.
    “This is Quinn Sheffield, an intern here this summer,” Mr. Day continued as he took his seat. “I hope you don’t mind his sitting in on our session. He’s been assisting me with research this morning and will be continuing to help with the case.”
    Mikey nodded at Quinn, who moved without prompting to pour three glasses of water. He placed one in front of Mikey, who gave him a grateful look, and Quinn returned it with a quick smile, his gaze lingering just long enough to clue Mikey in that maybe Quinn batted for his team. That surprised him considering what he’d heard about how Evan’s parents had treated him, but they’d recently reconciled, so maybe Mr. Day’s horizons had been expanded.
    “We’ll be recording our conversation,” Mr. Day said. “And both Quinn and I will take notes. Please feel free to do the same, especially if you have questions as we go on.”
    Mikey nodded and pulled the legal pad and pen closer. He reached for his water glass and lifted it to his mouth to take a sip, but he found it hard to swallow.
    “So Evan told me a little about your situation,” Mr. Day said. “But I’d like to hear it from you. In your own words.”
    Mikey set down his glass and cleared his throat. “I don’t know a lot,” he replied. “I was at work, and I got called in to the front office. They told me something came up in my background check, and I was being suspended. And they gave me that piece of paper.” He shrugged. “The rest is just what Jimmy told me. Um, Jimmy is…. It’s kind of complicated.”
    Mr. Day nodded. “It usually is,” he agreed. “Why don’t you start from the very beginning. I’ll ask questions as needed. You moved to Atlanta last month?”
    Mikey found things easier with the prompting questions Mr. Day asked, and he described his decision to move, his enrollment at SCAD, and his being hired at the nature park, mostly based on his experience working for Sliding Waters and then Disney in Orlando since his teen years. They covered his living situation, the friends he’d made since he arrived in town, and the events of Friday, when he was relieved of his duties and sent home, and then when Jimmy took over to look into the origins of the lawsuit against him.
    “And that’s it.” Mikey took another sip of water, the glass almost empty after a good forty-five minutes of talking. “Jimmy looked online, and he said some of the lawsuits were on there, but not this one. There’s a listing for it, but just, like, the title and stuff. So I asked Evan, and he called you, and I’m here hoping maybe you can find out what’s really going on.”
    “Mmm-hmm.” Mr. Day made a note on his pad and then glanced back up at Mikey. “Evan said something about your father?”
    “Oh yeah.” Mikey’s head hurt, partly from going over everything again and partly just from the idea that his father could be the reason for all of it. “My dad is the pastor at Orange Grove Fellowship Church. It’s a pretty big church right outside Orlando. I think maybe the people who sued me could be trying to get money out of him.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It isn’t like I have any money. And they probably don’t know that I moved away. The info on the court website had my parents’ address, but I haven’t lived there for a few years.”
    Mikey’s glass was almost empty, but he tipped it up to his lips anyway, letting a few pieces of ice slip into his mouth along with the last of the water. When he set the glass down, Quinn immediately leaned across to refill it, and Mikey gave him what he hoped was a grateful smile.
    “All right.” Mr. Day made another note, then folded his hands together and rested them on the pad. “So here’s what happens next. Quinn will get together these notes, and we’ll contact the court in Orange County about getting a copy of the lawsuit. It’s public record, so there should be a way to get it, even if it’s a badly reproduced fax.