Betsy pushes open the ladies’ room door and waddles into a stall. The pristine sinks and mirrors, hell, just the indoor plumbing and running water are enough to make me gawk, but my mind’s on my plan. I scan the room. No video cameras tucked in the corners. No intercom boxes on the wall to call for help. I walk into the stall next to hers and pretend to get to business. She settles her weight on the toilet.

“So, you see why you need to follow the rules. It’s so much nicer when we all get along. Don’t you think?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I flush the toilet for the water noise. I run out of my stall and slam into Betsy’s door. The simple lock gives way and the door flies open.

“What the—?” Betsy yells. She tries to heave her weight off the toilet. I jump in and straddle her. She lets out a little shriek before I get my hands on her mouth, but the flush drowns it out.

“Listen to me,” I whisper vehemently in her ear. “If you scream, I’ll strangle you with the handcuffs. I can crush your windpipe with my hands.” I lean into her until she winces. “I have nothing to lose. Do you understand?”

She nods, fat tears welling in her eyes.

I back off her a little, but keep my hand clamped over her mouth.

“You’re going to tell me about a patient that’s staying here. I’ll know if you’re telling the truth, too. There’s no easier book to read than your face.”

Betsy furrows her brow, but gives a curt nod.

“Her name’s Janine Meemick.” Just talking about my mother brings a tremble to my voice, but I grit my teeth and keep going. “She has a huge burn over the left half of her face and head.”

Betsy’s eyes widen. She nods.

My mother is here. I can’t catch my breath. I look Betsy right in her wet cow eyes. “I need to know where she is.”

Betsy shakes her head. My hand’s still clamped over her mouth. Slowly, I peal my fingers back.

I worry she’ll scream, but instead she speaks. “She’s gone.”

I clench my fists. “Don’t lie. I’m not afraid to hurt you.”

Betsy scowls at me. “Shut up and listen. She was here a week ago. I even gave her the tour. I remember her from the burns.” She runs her hand over the left side of her head. “But, she’s gone. I don’t know what happened, but I think …” She pauses and scans the metal stall walls like she’s checking if the coast is clear. Then she leans in and whispers, “I think she escaped.”

“Escaped?”