His profile had said he’d needed moral imperative, though—unless that was a lie? And thus made him the perfect infiltrator? What if this was only a play to get her father to come forward with the dossiers . . . before they murdered him?

And yet Isaac had put her in here to protect her.

Except she hadn’t recognized him when he had—

Dear Lord, the Life Alert—the light had been off, hadn’t it. When he’d dangled it in front of her in the kitchen this morning, the light she’d seen before had been off. What did that mean? And come to think of it, the time lag had struck her as bizarre—between when he’d apparently turned himself in until now.

She had to get out of here. Get help.

Grier shuffled around and squeezed behind the stacked components of the security system’s nerve center. The hidden staircase that ran down the middle of the house had been part of its original construction, and built because suspicion and mistrust of the British had still been brewing in 1810, some thirty years after the Revolution.

Turned out the house’s tricks had uses in the present.

The glow of the security system provided enough illumination for her to find the dust-covered flashlight that hung on a nail at the head of the secret stairs. Clicking on the beam, she padded down the ancient, hand-carved steps, leaving prints behind in the dust. As she went, cobwebs clung to her hair and her shoulders were scraped by the rough mortar between the bricks.

When she got to the first floor, she paused. Naturally, she couldn’t hear a damn thing because of the sturdy, thick walls, but her father had added an iron vent that looked like just another part of the HVAC system. Actually, however, it served as a covert surveillance post.

Grier went up a step and bent to the side to get her eyes in line, bracing herself on a pair of bricks that stuck out more than the others.

As she squinted, her vision penetrated the slats and focused on the front hall. If she arched a little more and craned her neck, she could see down toward the kitchen—

Grier dropped the flashlight and clamped her hands over her mouth.

To keep from screaming.

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 38

After Isaac made sure Grier was safely out of the way, he padded out into her bedroom and gave a listen. When the lack of footsteps, scrambling, or gunshots gave him no information, he continued out into the hall. Another pause. Should he use the back stairs? The front ones?

Front. More likely that an infiltration would occur from the rear garden. More cover that way.