Michael
James' expression is stricken. "Will... Georgie... My daughter... I have to..."
"No!" Stanton stabs a finger at him again, eyes white-rimmed against his dark skin. "Not until I've gotten to the bottom of what's happened this evening."
James sits, resting his face into his hands. I lay a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs me away.
Stanton turns, aiming the finger at the officer covering Klempner. "Lopez, don't relax with that one. He has a track record of escape."
"Sir!" The gun muzzle raises from the room corner to point toward Klempner.