It was theoretically possible that Heron had paid her a visit—but with the security alarm, you’d have to assume that if he had, he’d merely been on the far side of her French door. In her disorientation from waking up, she’d no doubt only thought he was inside. And that had been just a coincidence with Isaac’s nightmare. . . . As for the wings? Jim Heron had been no saint, much less an angel. Whatever she’d seen had to have been reflections in the glass. Had to be.

Grier’s dad spoke up. “I’m telling you, he’s dead. I keep alert tracers on the Internet on the names of the operatives I know of—and he was shot in Caldwell, New York, four days ago.”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “Don’t believe everything you read. I spoke with the guy in the back garden here at nightfall. Face-to-face. Trust me, he’s alive, and we need him.” Isaac got to his feet. “His buddies are watching this house as we speak, and personally, I think Heron’s declared a vigilante war on Matthias—so I’m pretty damn sure we can get him to work with us—assuming they haven’t killed him already. I believe he’s MIA at the moment.”

“I hope he turns up then because the more you have to go on, the better.” Childe tapped the dossiers. “You should plan on reviewing all of this tonight, filling in the blanks, trying to piece together what you know—even if you don’t want to turn in your fellow soldiers, it may aid your own recollections. I’ll go upstairs into the hall bath and use my secured phone there to make some calls and get things set as fast as I can.”

“Roger that. But I want you to stay away from the windows and not leave the house.”

“I’ll be careful.” Childe glanced at his daughter. “I promise.”

As Grier’s dad disappeared up the stairs, Isaac checked the Life Alert. The transistor was still showing that the signal had been sent, but there was no answer yet. Which meant either he was too far underground in this wine cellar to receive it . . . or Matthias was taking his own sweet time getting back in touch.

He looked at Grier. “I’d better stay aboveground for a while in case they’re trying to reach me.”

“What are you going to do? If they want to meet with you right away?”

“Until I turn myself in, I’ve got a little leeway. But your father needs to work a couple of miracles fast.” And please, Lord, let Jim Heron be okay—and show up soon.