“Okay.”

They locked eyes for a moment, and Levi got a hint that Rand—make that Detective Watkins—was all business. The firmness of his handshake and the way he held Levi’s gaze suggested that Rand took his duty as a cop to the letter of the law. Which Levi understood. He figured Rand was one of those rules-are-rules guys. No breaking nor bending them. He expected that Rand’s world was made up of black and white, no shades of gray. The law was the law. There were good guys and bad guys. Right now Rand hadn’t decided on which side of the dividing line to place Levi. Friendships in high school, loose as they were when you were the younger brother of a best bro, didn’t figure in.

But that worked two ways. Rand had been close to Chase, closer than anyone, and Levi had always suspected that Rand knew more about his brother’s disappearance than anyone else. It just so happened to coincide with Rand shipping out to Vietnam, so . . .

He told himself to let it go.

Rand was a cop now.

Trustworthy.

Sworn to protect and serve.

But beneath it all, he was still just a man.

And everyone had secrets, even a decorated war vet who’d become an officer of the law.

“See ya around,” Rand said and was through the door.

Levi didn’t bother signing in but walked through the still-open door and found Allison Gray behind her wide desk, just picking up the receiver of her phone. She glanced up sharply as he arrived.

For a second panic rose in her eyes, but it was quickly disguised.

“Oh.” She dropped the receiver into its cradle and rose. “Mr. Hunt.” With sharp features, wispy Debbie Harry hair, and bright red lips, she forced a smile as she stood and offered her hand. “So good to see you, even though I know this is a hard time for your family. I’m so, so sorry for your loss. Cynthia was . . . was a character, a fixture around here if you will, and we all loved her.”

At least Allison didn’t call his mother a “sweetie.” Still, this was all corporate cover-your-ass bullshit.

He took her hand for a brief second but then didn’t mince words. “I just want to know how the hell she got out of here—walked right out and no one seemed to notice.”

Her confidence faltered for a heartbeat, but she found it again. “Please, have a seat.” She motioned to the two chairs facing her desk. “I have to be honest with you—”

In his world those words were usually a hedge if not an out-and-out lie.

“—we’re not really certain how she was able to leave undetected. But we’re working on it.”

“It’s your job to know.”

“Of course, and as I said, we’re launching our own internal investigation to find out how to prevent—”

“My mother died,” he said flatly. “As the result of your incompetence—”

“Sometimes, if a resident is determined to leave, it’s impossible to deter them,” she interrupted, cutting off his threat.

“This place is supposed to be secure.” He wasn’t backing down. Not an inch.

Allison tensed visibly. Her practiced smile tightened. “As you know, and as it’s spelled out in the contract you signed, Serenity Acres is not a lockdown facility.”

“It should be! I was led to believe—”

“As I was saying, our policies are written into our contract,” she said, her chin notching up a fraction. “Now, as I said, I’m deeply sorry for your loss, Mr. Hunt. If you could be so kind as to take your mother’s personal belongings, say, by sometime tomorrow? I’ll have all of the paperwork ready.”

“Don’t the police have to go through her room?”

“That’s happening as we speak.” Her smile was brittle. “I’ve asked them to be quick about it, as it’s disturbing for the other residents.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Yes, in the morning if you can manage it. We’re a very sought-after facility, and we have a waiting list for our units. So, the sooner you can arrange to take her things, the better.” She scraped together a few loose pages on her desk.