My voice boomed out of the little hidden speaker on the bookshelf, filling the quiet nursery.

Lorraine jumped with a sharp yelp and spun around, scanning for the source, her eyes landing on the dead wall camera she’d unplugged.

“Travis?” Her voice trembled. “Where… where are you?”

“I’m in my car, three blocks away,” I said, empty of emotion — the voice I use when a supply chain collapses and I have to cut a toxic vendor loose. “I’ve been watching you for the last hour, Lorraine.”

She froze. The blood drained from her face.

Her eyes found the digital clock on the shelf, and the realization of what it was hit her like a blow. She stepped back, hands flying to her mouth.