CHAPTER 47

PERLA

"What are you doing?" I stopped in the doorway to Grant's office and glared at Paige, who stood by the fireplace.

She spun on one foot. At least she was barefoot. Yesterday I'd caught her with her shoes on in the house despite my very clear instructions that everyone remove them prior to entry.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I not allowed in here?"

"We'd rather you not be. Where's Sophie?"

"Oh, she's taking a shower. I'm just waiting on her to finish, and I was wandering."

Snooping , that's what she was doing. Not that I didn't expect it. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that this was normal, expected. Not a bad thing.

"Is this ... This is Mr. Wultz?" She pointed to a photo on the mantel, and damn if she hadn't found the only photo in the entire house of Lucy. In the picture, his arm was around her shoulders, hugging her tight to his side, big smiles on both their faces.

"Yes." I moved forward until I was beside her. "That's when he was in high school."

"The girl is really pretty."

"Yes," I agreed carefully.

"Is she related to him?" Her voice rose a little. If Paige Smith had a tell, that was it.

I turned to face her. "Why do I think that you already know who that is?"

She flushed. "I don't," she stammered. "I mean, not really. I didn't see any pictures online, but I know—"

"You know about Grant's family," I said.

"Yes." She looked pained. "I'm sorry. I won't say anything to him about it, I promise."

"When did you find out?"

"Just last night. I was researching some of the prisoners that my dad told me about. One of them—I saw the last name Wultz, and it's so unique. I looked it up and saw Grant's name in one of the obituaries." She wrung her hands. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay." I sighed. "It's not exactly a secret. We don't talk about it, but some people in the neighborhood know. I would appreciate it if you don't tell anyone."

"Oh yeah, of course. I mean, I don't know anyone you know anyway. We aren't exactly in the same circles." She let out a nervous giggle.

"Still," I said stiffly. "Your discretion would be appreciated."

"Right. Yeah. I won't tell anyone."

"Does your father know?" I held my breath, afraid of her answer. Surely, if she had told him, he wouldn't share that information. A man who worked with criminals, he would understand the need for privacy, especially in a case like this.

"Uh, yeah." Her face crumpled. "I'm sorry, I told him as soon as I found out."

At least she didn't lie to me. She could have easily done so. The fact that she didn't was another point in her favor. So what if her father knew? I could still pull and control the strings from here.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. This girl really needed to expand her vocabulary.

"Sophie is probably out of the shower." I glanced at my watch. "And I need to change."

"Yeah, of course. Sorry." She turned away from the mantel and walked quickly toward the hall. I waited until she was almost to the door, then called her name. She immediately spun around, her shoulders hunched, steeled for a lashing.

"Don't tell Grant that you know. And please ask your father to keep this confidential. Leewood doesn't know that we live in the area. It's very important that he doesn't find out."

She nodded, but I saw the bit of light that entered her eyes and I didn't like it. "Yes, of course. I'll tell him. My dad, I mean. Not Mr. Wultz. I won't say anything to him."

"Good." I tilted my head toward Sophie's room. "Please close the door behind you."

"Right. Absolutely." She quickly exited, then carefully pulled the tall door closed until it clicked into place.

I waited a moment, making sure she was gone; then I turned back to the mantel and carefully picked up the frame, studying the old photograph.

Lucy had been beautiful. All soft blonde hair and big blue eyes. A laugh like a bell. Skin so pale, it was almost translucent. When they'd found her, her features were unrecognizable from the cuts and the blood. She got it the worst, and the police say that she was alive for most of it, that her screams were probably what the neighbors heard.

I placed the frame back in its place, carefully adjusting it to the exact angle it was before. Grant would notice if it had been moved. He always did.