Vanessa led my mother into the living room. She looked terrified, her eyes darting between Thorne and Daniel.

“Eleanor’s having a very agitated morning,” Vanessa lied smoothly. “She tried to strike me earlier.”

“I see,” Thorne said, his voice like oiled glass. He opened his bag and withdrew a large syringe and a vial of thick, cloudy liquid. “We need to stabilize her brain chemistry.

A mild sedative, to keep her from hurting herself or others.”

I recognized the label as he drew the liquid. It was a heavy veterinary tranquilizer. It would put my mother in a stupor for days — compliant, silent, unable to talk to anyone, let alone the police.

If he injected her, I couldn’t take her anywhere.