And that, frankly, was everyone named Avery who had just walked into this room. All of them were on the board of directors, including Kellie and her older brother. So were Clayton’s ex-wife and Celia, Tommy Avery’s widow, whom Prescott had appointed to be the executive director of the Miranda Foundation after Tommy died.

Bobby’s eyes zeroed in on Win’s and I caught the imperceptible shake of Win’s head. Don’t let them look. It’s bad.

Bobby put a restraining hand on Clay’s arm. “This is not going to be easy, Clay,” he said. “You don’t have to see him this way if you don’t want to. Or any of you, for that matter. There’s no need for an I.D.”

Alex’s eyes flashed. “I want to see him.”

“Sweetheart,” Clayton said in a cautioning voice, “Bobby just warned us this was going to be difficult. Let me do this.”

“Dad.” Alex put all the weight into that word that said don’t stop me and don’t patronize me. “I can handle it.”

Scotty put his arms around Bianca’s and Kellie’s shoulders. “Maybe you two don’t want to see him. Remember him as he was.”

I had been watching Kellie, who had started shaking, a sure sign she was about to burst into tears. She was doing her best to hold it together but after Scotty spoke her face crumpled and she let out a ragged sob, burying her head on his shoulder.

“Poor Pop-Pop. Someone should have been here with him. He shouldn’t have been alone.” Her voice choked with grief and I flinched. That someone could—should—have been me.

Scotty transferred his distraught daughter to his wife’s arms. Bianca moved Kellie away from the rest of us, murmuring consoling words in Portuguese in her daughter’s ear.

“Dad,” Scotty said, “the three of us should do this. We have to.”

Quinn and I exchanged glances and he jerked his head sideways, indicating the door. I nodded. We stepped outside into the cool, fresh air of the corridor, away from the mingled smells of Madeira and death, allowing them privacy for their sad task. I closed my eyes and waited for what I knew would come: their shocked, anguished reactions to Prescott’s body lying in a pool of blood. Even Alex let out an unvarnished cry of grief.