“You look tired, Mrs. Carter,” Vance said. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“I’m not going home until I see my grandmother,” I said.

Vance nodded slowly.

“Whispering Pines is a private care home,” he said. “It’s small. Only about twelve residents.”

“Who pays the bills?” I asked.

“The payments come from a trust account managed by a law firm in Jacksonville,” Vance said. “The same firm your father uses for his business.”

The pieces fit together, but the realization made me sick to my stomach.

They had hidden her away in a quiet town, paying for her care with her own stolen money.

“How do we get in?” Claire asked.

“I’ll go in first,” Vance said. “I’ll tell the administrator I’m conducting a routine verification of identity for a state agency.”

“They’ll notify my father,” I said.

“Not if we do it fast,” Vance said. “And not if we don’t give them a choice.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notepad.

“The facility is registered under a woman named Margaret Mitchell, but the intake forms use a different social security number,” he said.