She hit the button to close the garage door and headed into the house, entering the mudroom and then the kitchen. The house felt cold and lonely, belying the warm hues of cedar and pine. She grabbed a glass of water at the sink. She had to find a way to talk to Nora. The conversation seemed unimportant in light of Rowan’s death, but then again . . . it could be vitally important.

Like a stranger—an intruder, really—she crept through the house that had briefly been her home. It was big, bold, and beautiful—a testament to her father’s business acumen and dream. A dream he couldn’t fully experience now that he was gone, but Rowan—God rest his soul—had taken on that mantle and lifted the company to heights Dad could have only dreamed about. And those goals had been achieved partially because she had done as Rowan demanded. “Get far, far away. If you love Dad, you’ll leave him alone.”

Grief could destroy her if she let it. All the wasted time she’d spent not in Dad’s life. Protecting him from what? Maybe if she’d stayed close to the family, been part of his business, he would somehow still be alive. But Mackenzie was grasping at blades of grass that had withered.

She thought back to when she came into the house. Nora’s vehicle wasn’t in the garage or the drive. Perfect. In Rowan’s office, Mackenzie stared at the empty room.

He’d run her off and seemed to have no mercy to offer. Couldn’t forgive her. He’d hammered her with guilt until she had to escape, so she fled and stayed far away. Dad was a workaholic—which is what had driven her to search for companionship with the wrong people—so it wasn’t like her absence created a great hole in their lives.

The image of Rowan’s lifeless body flashed in her mind like a press photograph.

Rowan had had heart issues at the young age of forty-two, ten full years older than Mackenzie. He’d taken medications and had a pacemaker—and had been super active like Dad. No one would have even known about his condition.

But Mackenzie couldn’t stop thinking about the timing.

Deadly attacks . . . The warning she’d received made his death all the more suspicious. But she needed more information—and she needed to stop the attacker.

Whoever you are.

Now was the best time to use her skills. Snoop around someone’s digital secrets. Mackenzie’s cybercriminal past had driven a huge wedge between her and her family, but those same previously ill-used skills would help her now.

She pulled the office chair out and across where they’d found Rowan’s body and sat down behind the desk. Ignoring the chills cascading over her, she imagined Dad behind the same desk before he died.