“I thought once Hawley had compiled his list, you two could go over it. If someone is really acting out a grudge, it has to be one of those old cases. Between what you remember about them and making a few quiet inquiries saying you’re doing a feature piece on your dear old dad, it might help narrow the field.”

Rachel nodded. “I’d say anything is worth trying at this point.”

“You must promise me that you won’t approach any of these people directly,” Grant said. “That’s to be left to Hawley and the others at the Yard.”

“Or if someone happens to be here in New York—me or your father will deal with it,” added Frankel.

“Quiet inquiries. Feature piece on my dad,” Rachel recited. “Got it.”

The waiter chose that time to return with the flatbeds and pizza. He had no sooner left the table when Rachel turned to look back at her father.

“So, when do I start?”

Grant got a text from Hawley shortly before the entrees arrived saying he’d have a preliminary list by the time the sun rose on their side of the Atlantic. Grant was pleased, but not surprised, to see the man working into the wee hours of the London night. He gave Rachel the sergeant’s contact info and told her to check with him when she got up in the morning.

Rachel got the two of them to trade war stories—their favorite NYPD and Yard tales—and by the time dessert came, they had gone through enough to fill quite the rogue’s gallery.

They departed the restaurant shortly after ten-thirty. Though it was in the low forties, Rachel pointed out the evening was clear enough to walk the ten blocks to Grant’s hotel. Once there, she and Frankel could grab a couple of cabs or Ubers and head home themselves.

But as it’s wont to do in a city where you look the other way and the weather changes, the skies opened up and the trio got caught in a torrential downpour six blocks from the London.

Grant asked if they wanted to come in and dry off, but both said they would be fine. Rachel insisted that her father go inside before he caught his death of cold. The London doorman offered to find Rachel and Frankel taxis and Grant handed the man ten dollars for his trouble.

Grant decided to risk giving his daughter a goodnight hug and was pleased when she didn’t pull away. He knew there was still plenty unresolved between the two of them, but at least it was a start. Grant told Frankel he would see him bright and early in the morning, then sloshed his way into the hotel.

He was halfway to the elevator when the night manager called out.

“Sir?”