“I can’t make a move without someone watching me.”
He nodded. Held her hand in both of his on top of the table. The surveillance was for her own good, but he understood how hard it had to be for her.
“I’m an independent woman,” she said next, raising her chin a notch. “I had to be, with your grandfather out there risking his life every day. I always knew I had to be prepared to handle things on my own if something happened to him. And then when your dad and you boys went into the business, you needed to know you had a home. It’s what keeps cops safe. Helps them make those instinctive, split-second decisions that keep them alive.”
He didn’t disagree. Her gaze held his, as strong as it had ever been.
“It felt like I was losing my independence.”
“What did you do last night, Gram?”
“I climbed out my bedroom window.”
His mouth fell open. He closed it. Opened it again. Not sure if he was going to smile or rant.
“I thought about it the first night I was here. How I could climb out the window if I needed to. How you all might think I’m old and helpless, but I’m not…”
Instincts on alert, Mason almost challenged her, denied that any of them considered her helpless, but the casual way she said the words held him back. He filed them in his mind, knowing he had to mention them to Sara, Gram’s counselor there at the Stand. And maybe to Harper, too. Just to keep her in the loop, since he’d dragged her into this.
Pulling her hand from his, Miriam folded her arms, cast on the inside, and stared at him. “I got out as easily as I knew I could. I took a walk. Enjoyed the gardens by moonlight, and then I came back. If that guard Tasha hadn’t come looking for me I’d have been back in through the window without anyone knowing. It’s low enough that I could sit on the sill and slide down without having to use any arm strength even. And I go up and downstairs every single day.”
The grounds were locked. Safe. She’d put herself in no real danger.
Still, she could have found a way out, which scared the hell out of him. The Stand was nearly impossible to break into, but it wasn’t as difficult to leave. It wasn’t a prison. Which was why they had the voluntary no release system, assigning round-the-clock watch over women who considered themselves a flight risk. And Harper’s team would have no way of knowing that a seventy-something injured woman would try to climb out her bedroom window.
“It’s at the back of the house, you know,” she said, as if that somehow changed things.
“You gave me your word you’d cooperate.”
She glared at him, and he almost took her on. Until he saw the hint of vulnerability in eyes that were growing old—their fire undimmed.
“The officers are here to keep you safe, not make you a prisoner. If you want to take a walk, anytime of day or night, you take a walk. Just let them know, okay?”
“They’re there to see I don’t leave,” she said in as strong a voice as ever. “I signed the voluntary no release form, Mason, in essence making myself a prisoner.”
“The choice was yours.”
“I had no choice! If I didn’t stay here, you’d find someplace else.”
No point in denying it. “This is a nice place, Gram.”
“It’s not home.”
“It’s only for a couple of weeks.”
“I have work to do at home. The place doesn’t stay clean by itself. And Bruce needs to eat better than he does when he’s alone. He won’t iron his shirts, and he leaves clothes in the dryer. He doesn’t change his sheets. And he’ll dump his dirty dishes in the sink until he runs out.”
He was sorry to hear all of that. A bit surprised, too. He’d had no idea his younger brother was such a slob. From what he’d heard, at work he was meticulous about every detail—from the way he filled out his reports to filing. The few times he’d gone into the precinct to see him in the past, before Harper, he’d found Bruce’s desk to be almost OCD neat.
He thought about offering to hire a housekeeper for her so she could relax during her time here, but stopped himself at the last second. Taking away Gram’s sense of purpose would not serve any of them well. Especially her.