“She isn’t stupid, Grant,” Vanessa said. “She’s a federal operative. She knows how to bypass a simple patrol car.”

“She’s a mother,” Grant said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Mothers make mistakes when their children are involved.”

I felt a cold drop of sweat slide down my temple.

I zoomed the camera in closer, switching to the standard optical lens with low-light amplification.

The green-tinted image resolved into sharp detail.

Vanessa was wearing a silk robe, her dark hair pinned up.

She walked over to the kitchen island and picked up a manila folder.

“Did you secure the offshore transfers?” she asked.

“They’re cleared,” Grant said. “The assets from Evelyn’s family trust are fully integrated into the Belize accounts.”

“And the girl?” Vanessa asked, her voice turning sharp.

“She’s in her room,” Grant said. “Where she belongs.”

“She’s still not eating,” Vanessa said, taking a sip from her glass. “It’s becoming a nuisance.”

“She’ll eat when she’s hungry enough,” Grant said.

My hand trembled on the focus knob.

I wanted to drive the SUV straight through their front doors.