“Must mean he’s good at his job.”

Grant, happy to accept any compliment from his daughter, gave her an appreciative nod. And decided to wade gently into the unsteady waters.

“So, are you going to at least tell me how you are?”

Grant could see a wisecracking response form in her eyes but was encouraged when it just as quickly faded away.

“I’m fine. Good, actually. I like my job. I’ve got nice friends.”

“I just want to know that you’re happy.”

“I’m happy enough, Dad.”

Her eyes betrayed that there was more as well, but there was also a plea there that she finally voiced.

“Can we just leave it at that?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, Rachel. I’d hope you’d know that by now.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. As she dabbed her lips with the napkin, it didn’t escape his notice that she ran it quickly across her eyes, which he could have sworn had begun to well up.

Grant was certain she was holding back something. Whatever it was, he had no idea. But in that moment, he needed to fill the void of silence that was beginning to engulf them once more.

“As for what I revealed about the case . . .”

“Don’t worry. You’re off the record, Dad.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“You probably did, but that’s okay. I wouldn’t put anything in print you didn’t want me to.”

“I appreciate that. There could come a time where I might want you to.”

He purposely trailed off again. Rachel got the gist right away.

“If it’ll keep someone safe and help you catch this lunatic—I’m your girl.”

You’ll always be my girl, Rach.

“Good,” he simply said.

Rachel started to gather her things. The breakfast clearly over, Grant got to his feet and pulled Rachel’s chair out for her.

“Can I see you again before I leave?” he found himself asking.

“That’s up to you. Everett obviously has my number,” she said, as if he needed reminding. “Maybe this time you’ll call instead of him.”

She moved for the door before he could even consider a hug or any sort of embrace. He wasn’t sure it would have been accepted.

As he watched her leave the restaurant, he thought at least they’d gotten through a meal together.

Sadly, it had taken a homicidal maniac to finally bring them together.

Chapter 7

7

Grant decided to make the remaining calls to the residents of 988 Eighth Avenue from the precinct rather than the London. The office might be cramped and devoid of style but it had access to all the NYPD resources should he need them.