Chapter 13 - The Other House
Ortiz wouldn't tell me where the van was until officers had a plan. I understood. Knowing where my mother's abusers might be didn't give me the right to rush in and make another rescue harder.
Instead, I sat with Denise in the hospital cafeteria. She kept tearing napkins into thin strips.
"If Mom survives, I don't know how to apologize for sending her there," she said.
"She trusted you," I answered. "That's what they stole."
By evening, Ortiz called. The vehicle had traveled to a farmhouse marketed online as Marigold Rest, another short-term elder-care business. Records showed Raymond Cole owned the property through a company that shared Rosebridge's mailing address.
"Is Helen there?"
"We have reason to believe vulnerable adults are inside. Our team is acting on it."
She ended the call before I could ask more.
Raina sat beside me in the dark living room. The children were asleep, and Mom was soaking her painful hands in warm water.
"I spent eleven days reviewing missing equipment," I said. "I came home and didn't even know what was missing under my own floor."
"That's not a fair comparison."
"It feels fair."
"Evan counted on you trusting him. Trust isn't negligence."
At 10:41 p.m., the farmhouse search began. I watched the time crawl across my phone while I pictured elderly strangers behind another locked door.
Ortiz called near midnight.
"We've removed five residents," she said. "Two needed immediate medical care. Raymond is in custody."
"Helen?"
The silence was so long I stood up.
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"We found a room with her name on the door," Ortiz said. "But the bed was empty."
Under the mattress, investigators had found a piece of paper in shaky handwriting: TELL DENISE TO CHECK THE GARDEN.
