My parents called at 1 A.M. screaming, “Wire $20,000—your brother’s in the ER!” I asked one question… and they dodged it. So I said, “Call your favorite daughter,” hung up, and went back to sleep. The next morning… police were at my door.

Two officers stood on the porch of my small house in Columbus, Ohio. One of them was tall and held a small notebook in one hand while the other officer stood slightly behind him, watching quietly with the kind of alert expression that suggested he had already seen too many strange situations before his first cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” the taller officer said politely. “Are you Diana Grayson?”

“Yes,” I answered, suddenly aware that my throat felt dry.

“Did you receive a phone call around one o’clock last night asking you to wire twenty thousand dollars?”

The words made my mind replay the memory immediately.

At exactly one in the morning my phone had buzzed loudly against the wooden nightstand beside the bed. My husband Luke had not even moved. That man could sleep through thunderstorms and fireworks and the neighbor’s dog barking all night, but I had never been able to ignore the sight of my family’s number appearing on my screen.

My sleepy brain had already decided who it was before my eyes even focused on the phone.

Mom.

I answered automatically.

“Hello. Mom, what is going on?”

The voice that answered sounded almost like my mother Patricia, but it was stretched tight with panic.