It was a closer walk than the house to Tad’s school and her office. She dropped him off, and then had a talk with the principal to tell him about Morris and make sure that nobody could get Tad out of school for any reason except his legal guardian—herself. The principal promised that he’d watch out for the boy and have the staff made aware of the situation.

Then she went to work, feeling a closeness with people who’d once walked up the steps to the guillotine. Banks was going to be mad. She hated having to tell him the truth.

She put up her coat and purse and started pulling out files. One of them, the one she’d kept hidden, had photos of the victims of Morris’s violent assault—Tad and Clancey.

Banks came in looking out of sorts. He’d phoned Grace last night and invited her to the ranch. She’d said sorry, but she had too many obligations in town for that. She added that she didn’t like the idea of cattle. Animals deserved better treatment than to be eaten. She was a vegetarian herself.

He tossed his hat onto the coat tree and hung up his shepherd’s coat. He sat down behind his desk with a glowering look at Clancey.

“What’s up?” he asked, frowning as he noticed her uneasy look and the file folders she was clutching to her chest.

“Something to confess,” she said quietly. She moved forward and put the files on his desk, moving back to stand with her hands folded at her waist, her heart racing.

“I remember. I asked you for the file on Morris Duffy yesterday,” he recalled as he opened the file folder. “He’s coming home today. I assume he’ll be staying at the house he...inherited...”

His voice slowed and then stopped, dead. Clancey looked younger in the photos that documented her injuries, but she was still recognizable. She saw Banks wince as his black eyes went from the crime photos of her injuries to those of little Tad, who’d only been three years old at the time.

So many odd observations fell into place. Her idea to go into the military, the way she spoke of her grandfather. The missing man. Dalton Reed.

He looked up at her miserable, sad face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“I work for the Texas Rangers and my stepbrother is a violent, convicted criminal,” she said simply. “Tad is all I have. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing custody of him, if I got fired...”

“You idiot,” he said softly. “I’d never fire you. You can’t help who you’re related to.”

She bit her lower lip. “He’s coming home today.”

“Home.” His chiseled lips parted. “Home. To your home. No wonder the address sounded so familiar. I’d seen it in Morris Duffy’s file.”

She nodded.