“Yeah, actually,” he said. “About ten minutes ago. She said she was the grandmother.”

My heart stopped.

“Did you let her in?” I demanded, my voice rising.

“No,” the guard said, shaking his head. “She didn’t have a visitor’s pass. I told her she had to go down to the admissions desk on the first floor to get cleared.”

“Which way did she go?” I asked.

“Toward the elevators,” he said, pointing down the long corridor.

I didn’t wait.

I ran down the hallway, my boots thudding against the floor.

I reached the elevator bank and stared at the digital display.

One elevator was rising from the lobby.

The other was on the first floor, stationary.

I ran to the heavy fire door next to the elevators and pushed it open, stepping into the concrete stairwell.

The air in the stairwell was cold and smelled of damp cement.

I ran down the stairs, my hand sliding along the cold metal railing.

I needed to make sure she hadn’t found another way up.

I reached the lobby level and pushed the door open.