“I’ll be all right,” Rachel assured him. “I’m just a little sad, that’s all.”

“Well, let’s see if we can remedy that.” He indicated her breakfast plate.

She picked up the fork and dug in to the omelet.

She gave Everett a genuine smile. “This is a very good start.”

The list seemed to go on forever.

Grant leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

He had the same reaction over the years each time he had to go through the Yard’s data on known sex offenders and predators—he was totally gobsmacked. The numbers were staggering and those were just the reported cases. He knew the actual count was at least double, maybe triple, seeing as how domestic violence and sexual assault were the type of incidents many refused to come forward about.

It was one part of the job he wasn’t going to miss about the Yard.

Needless to say, he hadn’t made an ounce of headway trying to find out who might have attacked Allison.

He was saved having to dive back into the breach by a tap on his door.

Grant looked up to see Frankel stepping into his office.

“John,” Grant said with genuine surprise. “I thought you would’ve been en route to New York by now.”

“I’m on my way to the airport. I just wanted to stop by and wish you a Happy New Year before I left.”

Grant got up from his chair and came around the desk to shake the NYPD detective’s hand. “I really appreciate it. The same to you, John.”

“I also wanted to say it was a sincere pleasure and honor getting to work with you these past few weeks.”

“Likewise,” Grant said. “I wish it had ended differently, but at least it’s over.”

“So you’ve given up the Monte Ferguson crusade.”

“Stebbins made a pretty persuasive argument against it. And . . .” Grant glanced at the wall clock—it was just past 8:30 in the morning. “. . . in less than sixteen hours, I will no longer work here, and the Ferguson search falls on someone else’s watch. If anyone is still even looking.”

“If I were in your shoes, I’d feel the exact same way.”

They exchanged a few pleasantries, then Frankel said he should go. That was when Grant brought up what had been hovering over both since Frankel stepped into the office.

“You haven’t mentioned Rachel.”

Grant thought Frankel might have actually gone a little pale.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“There’s no one I’d rather talk about than my daughter.”

“I haven’t known her long, but I feel the same way.”

Grant nodded. He knew more than ever that Rachel’s assessment of John Frankel had been spot on. This was a good man.