Jessica POV
The moment I saw the person with bandages covering his or her face, I knew it might not be my father; something about it was odd, it looked overly done. His injuries in the photos didn't match this kind of coverage, and his left arm was broken, yet his right arm was in plaster.
Grandpa picked up on it, too; that was not my father in that bed.
So where was he, and who helped move him?
I was already searching for the codes to break into the prison security cameras when Grandpa asked me to do it. He was well aware of my security level, which is why they thought I would make a great police commissioner. I was already as high as he was in security levels without the title. The government had given us a sensitive job about eighteen months ago, one they couldn't get their hands d
