Delaney begrudgingly jammed his gun into his belt.
“I saw—”
“I’ve got this.”
“What?”
“I saidI’ve got this. Back away.”
“But—”
“Back off, Delaney. Don’t make me say it again.” Vaughn glared at the cop.
“Okay, okay, shit. I’m backing off.”
Delaney put his own hands up now, not quite as high as the others, and took three large steps backward.
“Good. Stay calm.” To Ivy, “What the hell is going on?”
He lowered his flashlight, and she squinted one eye.
“Detective Ryan?”
“Yes. What are you doing here?”
“My—my dad. Shit.” Ivy was having a hard time catching her breath, but Vaughn suspected that this was for a different reason than the woman in what he now saw was a blue muumuu.
“It’s okay, take your time.”
As she collected herself, Vaughn observed the other two. One was a fat woman in her forties, the other a man in his sixties. Tall, thin. There was something on his face and head. A skin-colored mask of some sort.
It looked... well, frightening.
“My father, he’s sick. He doesn’t understand.” Such pain in Ivy’s voice. “He wanders off. This is Sarah. She’s his nurse at the home.”
Ivy took a deep, shuddering breath.
“I’m Dr.Reeves’s resident care aide,” the big woman squeaked.
Vaughn recalled what Ivy had said when they’d first approached her in her office back at Princeton.
“Is it my dad? Please tell me my dad’s okay.”
“Where’s the home?”
“Back there.” Ivy pointed in the opposite direction that Vaughn had come from.
Vaughn felt a headache begin to form behind his eyes.
“Is he okay?” He indicated Ivy’s father.
Ivy moved to her dad, gently placed a hand on his back.
“Dad? You going to be okay?”
No response. Not even a blink.
“I think he’s fine,” Ivy said. “Sarah?”
