Countess Frederica looked radiant as she put her face toward the wind, but not all blind people were so fearless. Not all blind people had plunged through the ice and floundered helplessly before being rescued.

“She’s doing fine,” Gray assured her. “Look, they’ve found her a seat right next to the countess. They are surrounded by a dozen officers. Elaine is about to have the time of her life.”

It was true. The terror had vanished from Elaine’s face, replaced by a look of excited trepidation. The young countess babbled to her, and the other blind people were all being guided to their seats. This was probably the happiest and hardest moment of Annabelle’s life.

“Thank you,” she whispered to Gray. “A thousand times, thank you for bringing us here and keeping me sane.”

He squeezed her hand in reply. A few moments later, the yacht slipped out of its moorings and sliced through the water. It tilted as it veered away from the dock and toward open water as the wind filled its sails. The band struck up a patriotic tune, but Annabelle could no longer see Elaine.

“She’s going to be okay,” Gray murmured. “You are going to be okay.”

She squeezed his hand. For the first time in three years, she believed it.

Fourteen

General Molinaro sat at his imposing desk and pinned her with a critical stare as she reported on her search of Gray’s study. She’d found no suspicious letters, no lists of Cuban contacts, and absolutely nothing to implicate him. Most importantly, the telegraph transmitter in his study did not match the code the generals said was being used by the spy. The telegrams the generals intercepted had not come from Gray’s townhouse.

“What about his property at Windover Landing?” General Molinaro asked.

Annabelle explained that she had spent almost two complete days exploring his greenhouses and had been inside the farmhouse for all her meals and to sleep. A groundskeeper and his wife lived there, and surely no person in their right mind would store incriminating documents in a house he rarely visited and where other people lived.

“When you were at Windover Landing, I expect Gray Delacroix was within a few yards of you the entire time.”

“Yes, he was always there,” she admitted.

“I need you to go back,” General Molinaro said. “Alone. Get into the attic of that farmhouse. The storage sheds. Anyplace Delacroix didn’t let you see the first time.”

It was obvious she wouldn’t be able to exonerate Gray’s name unless she carried out the task, but she would need Gray’s permission to go.

She asked him the next time he came to the Smithsonian to escort her to lunch.

“You’ve already seen my only rare vanilla plants. I don’t want you to be disappointed,” he said gently.