Security Measures. Sara K. Parker

photos anywhere in his office.

      Hunter forced a smile. “It’s a beautiful place. My mom was here for a while.” He started. “Maybe you knew her—Wendy Knox?”

      Vince shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell, but I’ve only been here three years.”

      Hunter nodded. “She passed before that, but sure enjoyed her time here. In fact, I know others who are considering it for their parents. Would you mind giving me a quick rundown of your security protocols?”

      “Oh, sure,” Vince said, motioning for Hunter to take a seat as he turned a wide-screen computer monitor toward him. The monitor showed four grainy scenes at a time. “This here’s our monitor,” Vince began, and Hunter suppressed a sigh. This was going to be worse than he’d expected.

      * * *

      A half hour later, Hunter was thinking about the practically nonexistent security at Harmony and wondering how quickly Shield could convince Harmony management to make improvements. A private security company, Shield designed, installed and manned custom security systems for residences and businesses. Due to the nature of the work, agents often served as both bodyguards and investigators, reporting suspicious activity and passing tips on to police. Usually, potential clients approached Shield for help. Bringing a proposal to Harmony would likely be a hard sell. Maybe bringing his kids to the facility the next day would be a good first step. That way, he could get a feel for the place without making anyone uneasy.

      He pulled into the first grocery store he saw, heading quickly inside and grabbing a basket. He’d only managed to grab bananas and frozen chicken nuggets when his cell phone rang, the number unfamiliar.

      “Hello?” he answered, snagging a pack of mini doughnuts for his kids in the morning.

      “Is this Hunter Knox?” a woman’s voice asked.

      He recognized the voice, and his heart pitched. “Yes. What’s wrong, Kaye?” He was setting his basket on a closed register before she could even answer, heading straight for the exit.

      “It’s Triss. She just left the dining hall. I followed her and she told me she was very tired. Unlike her. It’s not even seven o’clock. And she looked...funny.”

      “Funny, how?”

      “I can’t really say. Her eyes looked kind of glazed. Maybe I’m overreacting...”

      “I’m heading back now.”

      “Hurry, okay?”

      “You got it.” Hunter was already running to his truck. He slammed the door shut and peeled out of the parking lot.

      This is what he’d been afraid of—a head injury or an internal injury that hadn’t made itself known immediately. He should have forced her to get checked out after the accident. Well, she wouldn’t argue with him this time. He would go over there and knock on her door until she opened it, and then he was going to drive her straight to the hospital—even if he had to drag her.