Brandon and Chloe, meanwhile, were drowning — six-figure credit-card debt, failed business loans, back taxes. They didn’t just want his assets. They needed that land deal to close before the bank foreclosed on their own house.

Thorne stepped into the bay with a tablet. “We’ve got enough for a multi-count felony warrant, Clara. False imprisonment, elder abuse, medical neglect, attempted extortion.

But if we want them together, we need to move before they realize you didn’t leave your father at the station.”

I stood and adjusted the holster under my jacket. Whatever family sentiment I’d walked in with was gone.

“They think I’m still at the precinct trying to bail Dad out of a psych hold,” I said. “They think they’ve won. Let’s go serve the warrant.”

The Execution

At 6:15 a.m., as the first gray light broke over Marion County, three unmarked tactical vehicles pulled to the curb of my father’s farmhouse.