“I’m not Isaac,” he said, in a very deep voice.

The chilly smile he gave was the sort of thing that made you want to take a step back. Unfortunately, she was already against the counter, so there was nowhere to go.

And that was before he shut them both in together.

How much noise did she have to make to get Mrs. Roper back up here? she wondered.

“You must be the defense attorney.”

Oh, Christ, she thought. This was what Isaac had wanted to protect her from, wasn’t it.

Grier Childe looked just like her brother, Matthias thought as he stared across a galley kitchen at her.

And say what you would about the elder Childe’s bleeding-heart politics and nosy predilections, he and that wife of his had done right on the procreating end. Both their kids were blond, blue eyed, with perfect bone structure. Cream of the old-school crop, as it were.

Plus the daughter evidently had half a brain, going by her résumé. And was without all those messy addiction problems.

He felt his lips stretch a little wider. “What’s in your purse? Gun? Mace?”

She took out a thin leather-bound tube and flipped the top cover off. Putting it up in position, she let the defense weapon speak for itself.

“Make sure you aim at my good one,” he said, tapping his left eye. “The other side won’t get you shit.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off. “Did you expect to find Isaac here?”

“We’re not alone. The landlady is downstairs.”

“Oh, I know. She’s talking to her sister about their brother’s wife.” Those patrician blue eyes of hers widened. “They don’t like her because she’s too young for him. I’d give you the details, but it’s private. And not very interesting. Now, tell me, did you expect to find Isaac here.”

She took a moment to reply. “I’m not answering any of your questions. I suggest you unlock that door and leave. You’re trespassing.”

“If you own the world, there’s no such thing as trespassing. And a word of advice—you want to come out of this alive, you’ll be a little more accommodating.” Matthias casually wandered over to the window above the sink and looked out of the milky glass. “But I suspect I know the answer anyway. You didn’t think you’d find him here because you believe he’s left Boston. You’re basing this assumption on the cash he left behind with you—and don’t bother to deny it. I listened to you talk to your buddy at the public defender’s office—”

“It’s illegal to tap someone’s phone without a warrant.”

Pushing against his cane, he straightened back up. “And I would say to you again that words like ‘trespassing’ and ‘illegal’ and ‘warrant’ don’t apply to me.”