She stroked the dossiers with her elegant hand. “He’s good at miracles. It’s actually his specialty. You should see him in negotiations.” Her eyes went down to the file. “I’m going to stay here. I want to see which if any of these men I recognize. There were a number who came to the door when I was growing up and I always wondered who they were.”

As she fell silent, he took a step forward. And then another. Around the table he went, until he was by her side.

When she looked up to him, he carefully brushed back a strand of hair from her face. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because how could you be.”

“Have you ever felt . . . like you don’t know your own life?”

“Yeah. And that’s what got me to change.”

Well, that had been the first step. He was starting to believe that she was the second. And between her father and Jim Heron . . . three was the magic number. God willing.

“You know what?” she said. “I’m really glad I met you.”

Isaac recoiled. “How in the good Lord’s name can you say that?”

“You were the key that unlocked the lies.” She went back to staring at Jim Heron’s picture. “I feel like without you it would never have come to light. Only something so shattering . . .”

As she let that drift, he stepped back. “Yeah. That’s me.”

She nodded absently, turning the page and getting lost in the faces of men who were just like him . . . men who had ruined her family.

Shattered it.

Were the operatives who had killed her brother in there? With notes?

Somehow he doubted her father would put her through that.

“Can I bring you some wine?” he asked before he made himself go.

Grier smiled a little. “I’m surrounded by it.”

“True enough.” He should have offered coffee. Water. Beer. An oil change. Anything he could do for her or give to her to ease her.

Well now, on that note, there was an improvement he could make. He could leave her.

“I’ll be upstairs.” When he got to the door, he looked back. She was buried in the dossiers, brows tight, arms in her lap as she leaned forward over the table.

Yeah, leaving her was going to make things so much better.

He turned away and took the stairs up to the kitchen two at a time. Pausing at the base of the back stairwell, he listened. Not a sound. Which made sense if her father had locked himself up in a secured bathroom.

Shit, he couldn’t believe that he was going to shine a light on Matthias. But then sometimes natural death was too good for someone. Better that they rot behind bars or get lit up like Times Square in an electric chair.