So the money is for what—an operation? A life-saving treatment? It’s possible he doesn’t have insurance, or maybe it’s just that his insurance won’t pay because it’s a last-ditch effort, an expensive Hail Mary pass her doctors won’t sign off on.

But still.

What kind of parent would value his sick daughter’s life over the lives of my two healthy children? Who would hold a family hostage, threatening them with words and blows and a waved-around gun, in order to pry money out of their father? He thrust a loaded gun in our faces. He used it to pistol-whip me hard enough to crack a bone. Yes, I realize this man is desperate, but desperate enough to trade three, maybe four lives to save his ailing daughter’s? What kind of monster would do that?

He turns away from the window, his gaze landing on mine. “I’ve got to go. Cam’s on his way, and I need to get everyone ready.”

C A M

6:30 p.m.

I’m doing seventy up a residential street when it comes to me in a flash: the playroom.

Twice now I’ve talked to Jade, and twice she tried to trip my memory. She worked it into every conversation, multiple times. Playroom playroom playroom. But I was too busy spiraling in my own panic, my brain too distracted to catch her meaning.

I slam the brakes and yank on the wheel, careening the truck over some poor sucker’s freshly mowed lawn. The tires skid sideways across the soft ground, grass and gravel pinging against the side of the cab.

A hank of grease-slick hair escapes from Nick’s man bun, and he yelps, grabbing on to the roof handle. His shoulder slams into the window. “What happened? Did you hit a dog or something?”

“No, but—” I scramble for my cell, charging in the cup holder. “We have eyes in the room. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this earlier, but we can watch on the nanny cams. They’re sitting in front of the cameras right now.”

“So pull them up, then.”

I give him a look—duh—then turn my attention to the phone.

The nanny cams are on the last page, helpfully labeled “iSpy.” Jade installed the app the day the cameras were screwed into the wall, and I haven’t looked at it since. Too creepy, and unnecessary since we can’t afford a nanny. The only person who ever stays with the kids overnight is my mother, and no way in hell am I going to spy on my mom. Ever.