“Maya?” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”
I raised my badge.
“My job.”
From somewhere behind her, Grandma screamed my name.
Part 2
I moved past my mother before she could block me.
Detective Ramirez came in behind me, one hand close to his radio. The two uniformed officers followed. My father emerged from the hallway, his face flushed with fury.
“What is this?” he demanded. “You can’t just bring police into our home.”
“I can,” I said. “Especially when I receive a coded distress message from an elderly woman inside.”
Something flashed in his eyes.
Brief. Subtle. Guilty.
My mother twisted her hands together. “Your grandmother is confused. She’s been saying strange things.”
Then Grandma shouted again, her voice weaker.
“Maya!”
I hurried toward the back bedroom.
The door had been locked from the outside.
For half a second, everyone froze.
Then Detective Ramirez said, “Open it.”
My father stepped toward us. “She locks herself in sometimes.”
“The lock is on this side,” I said.
He said nothing.
One of the officers used a tool to force the door open. Grandma sat on the edge of the bed in her nightgown, trembling and pale. Her purse was missing. Her phone had been placed on the dresser across the room. Her medication bottles stood open, their labels removed.
I dropped to my knees before her. “Grandma, I’m here.”
She seized my hand with unexpected strength. “They made me sign papers.”
My mother immediately began to cry. “That’s not true.”
Grandma pointed toward the desk. “Your father said if I didn’t sign, he’d put me in a facility and tell everyone my mind was gone.”
Silence filled the room.
