Nanny? To all of the Morgan children. Val shot a look to Gavin, who raised his eyebrows. Nowhere in any of her internet searches did it mention the Morgans had other children. Not even in the sparingly written reports about Gabrielle’s death was there a hint of siblings. Val wondered how much influence the Morgans had to hush Gabrielle, who was a scandal for them. But why hide the children?

Val was about to ask more but Claudia turned into a parlor where a man and a woman sat on a dark red brocade sofa. Behind them, a full wall of windows, an easy ten feet in height and probably thirty in length, displayed a snow-covered garden. The couple stood when the group entered. The woman had to do so with the aid of a cane. Val noticed her ankle was wrapped in an elastic ace bandage. Val’s own leg twinged a little bit. She had good days and bad days with it. Today wasn’t so bad. The man spoke first. “I’m James Morgan and this is my wife, Rachel.”

James Morgan had short, gray hair and wore a crisp white button-down shirt, the sleeves adorned with gold cufflinks; a blue tie with gold stripes; and neatly tailored blue suit pants. Mr. Morgan certainly did workout. His clothes stretched across him like a well fitted glove, accentuating broad shoulders, well defined arms, flat stomach, and trim waist. He was somewhere around sixty. Mrs. Morgan was a bit younger, maybe mid-fifties. She had large brown eyes and her brown hair was cut into a short bob. While pretty, she wasn’t as striking as Claudia, or even her husband. They all shook hands.

Mrs. Morgan smiled and motioned for all of them to sit. “Claudia, can you bring us all some coffee?”

“Of course,” said the household manager, and exited the room.

“We’re sorry about the loss of your daughter and grandson,” Gavin said, addressing both Mr. and Mrs. Morgan.

There was an odd moment of hesitation, Val saw Rachel Morgan move—just a small flicker—towards her husband.

“Thank you, detective. What can we help you with?” Mr. Morgan’s tone was all business and Val wondered if he was remarkably reserved or if there was another reason for this cool, almost sterile response.

“What can you tell us about your daughter?” Gavin asked.

Mr. Morgan shrugged. “I’m afraid not very much that may be relevant. Up until about a month ago we hadn’t seen or heard from her in some time, probably a couple of years.”

“Up until a month ago?” Gavin raised his eyebrows. “She made contact with you recently?”

“She wanted to reconcile. We were happy to talk about it and end this nonsense,” Mr. Morgan said.

“Can I ask what caused the estrangement to begin with?” Gavin pressed.

Again, Val could see a sharp flash of a movement from Mrs. Morgan to her husband.