Then he punched the number for the animal shelter and gave them his phone number and Max’s description. Clay had already called them, but Brett felt better doing it himself. The shelter said they’d call if someone brought a golden in that matched Max’s description, but no one had yet.He drove to the Child Protective Services office located downtown, a few streets away in the business district of Hursey Lake, next to the Historical Society building.He parallel-parked in the front at the curb and entered the old building. It smelled like an antique store filled with old furniture that people had left behind in dank, moldy houses. The air felt cold and damp—as if the air conditioner couldn’t keep up with the humidity. A receptionist sat at a wooden desk in the lobby.“Can I help you?”Brett said, “I hope so. I’m Officer Brett Reed.” He reached across her desk and shook her hand. “CPS took custody of my daughter, Quinn Reed, this morning, and I’d like to talk to someone about getting her back.
