“I don’t need a convoy,” I told him.

“I need ordinary precautions and a way to do my job without someone making the boys more frightened.”

He apologized.

The hospital reviewed its visitor procedures, and I gave the detective copies of the few anonymous calls I had received since moving to the guest accommodation nearby.

For the first time, I considered leaving the job.

I could find work with families who needed a nanny but weren’t entangled in a financial investigation.

I had obligations of my own, including a modest apartment back in Portland and a younger sister whose college fees I helped pay.