He pulled his phone back out and scrolled through his contacts.

“I’m calling Marcus,” he said.

“Who is Marcus?”

“He was my chief financial auditor in the division,” my father said. “He tracks money for the federal government now. He knows how Patricia’s type operates.”

He tapped the screen to dial.

The phone rang on speaker.

“Michael?” a deep voice answered after three rings.

“Marcus, I need a favor,” my father said. “A private one. I need you to look into a firm called Vanguard Realty Group.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by the rapid sound of typing.

“That’s Patricia Parker’s outfit,” Marcus said. “Why are you interested in them?”

“They just drained my daughter’s account,” my father said. “And they are using the funds to fight an emergency custody battle.”

“Give me an hour,” Marcus said. “I’ll run their domestic filings and their tax identification numbers.”

My father hung up.

He guided me toward the elevators, his hand firm on my elbow.

“We need to get you and Owen to your room,” he said.

The elevator doors opened with a dull, metallic chime.