To any neighbor watching from across the street, or to any deputy who didn’t want the paperwork, it would sound like a pair of devoted caregivers saving an old man from his own confusion.
I knew she was lying.
The bruises were fresh, and the angle of the marks did not match a frantic pull from the front.
They were the grip of someone forcing a hand down onto a hard surface, but I did not have the medical report in my hand yet.
“He doesn’t wander at night, Vanessa,” I said.
“He does,” Vanessa snapped. “And we are only doing what is necessary to keep him safe, Clara.”
She stepped closer to Robert, her hand resting on his arm in a show of unity, though her cold, measuring gaze never left my face.
Robert pulled his phone from his jacket pocket.
His thumb hovered over the screen, and he tapped it quickly, his eyes darting toward me to see if I was watching.
