“I figured as much,” she said softly. “But when you are eighty-eight and cannot walk without help, you do what you are told.”

Claire stepped into the room, her boots clicking softly on the linoleum.

She held up her phone, showing me a text message from her federal contact.

“Rachel,” Claire said quietly. “The warrants are being drafted right now.”

I nodded, keeping my focus on my grandmother’s face.

“How long have you been in this room?” I asked.

“Two years,” Margaret said. “Maybe three.”

“The days all look the same when the window only shows the brick wall.”

“Did my mother know?” I asked, though the answer already sat like lead in my stomach.

Margaret looked away, toward the grey light filtering through the small pane of glass.

“Diane came once,” she said. “She helped him pack my suitcases.”

“She wouldn’t look me in the eye the entire morning.”

“And Victoria?”

“Victoria wanted my ring,” Margaret said, pointing a shaking finger toward her bare left hand.

“The small diamond from my wedding day.”

“She took it off my finger before they put me in the car.”