I lowered the brass lever, opened the glass double doors, and strode past Currier and Ives. The conference room, with its long mahogany table and Chippendale chairs, was empty, but I had known the men wouldn’t be there. Glass wouldn’t do. We needed privacy. I was as complicit in this knowledge, as I was when I guided Grace into Edward’s office, closed the door, and leaned against it so that she couldn’t escape.
The scene inside was deceptively peaceful, as much the snapshot of a moment in time as the foxhunting oils that hung on the dark-paneled wood. There was Edward, leaning casually against the front of his cluttered desk, looking both in charge and gorgeous in a navy turtleneck and jeans. And Jay in one of the tartan club chairs, round face composed, legs crossed at the knee. Grace might have asked why the lawyer was there if Ben Zwick hadn’t chosen that moment to turn.
He wasn’t as tall or compelling as Edward, though his sandy hair and brown eyes were certainly attractive. Attitude was what gave him stature, and now, despite a glimmer of apprehension when he focused on Grace, his posture held as he left the window.
Grace’s eyes flew to mine in alarm. I returned a tiny headshake, complicit in this, too. I might not know all of what Ben had to say, but I had certainly known he would be here.
Her gaze returned to the men, tripping from face to face in fear. “What is this?” she asked in her Grace-high voice.
“Thanks for coming,” Edward began and gestured her toward the large leather sofa.
She was having none of that. Turning quickly, she reached for the door.
I caught her arm. “You need to listen to what Ben has to say.”
“Hasn’t he already said enough?” she cried. Twisting her head, she pinned the man in question with a killing stare. “You son of a bitch.”
“Sometimes,” he admitted.
“I don’t want an apology, so if you’re looking to feel less guilty, forget it. The damage is already done.” Turning back to me in accusation, she tried to free her arm, but I held tight.
“He’s getting calls from Santa Fe, too,” I said.
That stilled her. After staring at me for several beats, she swallowed. Then, apparently not yet ready to deal with Santa Fe, she focused on my complicity. “You talked with him. You learned this and didn’t tell me. You knew he’d be here.”
“I love you, Grace, and I love Chris. I want both of you safe.” When she said nothing, I stressed, “You are not alone here. It’s us four against him. Edward will referee, Jay will protect your rights, and I will personally shut Ben down if he goes off the deep end.”
She looked about to argue. Then her eyes slid to the side, where a coat tree held three very different coats, and although her back was to the men, I knew she was realizing that one controlled her job, one her son’s legal case, and one her future. Her copper eyes met mine with resentment, but behind the contacts was worry as well. Putting her back to the door, she folded her arms to hold herself together and turned her glare on Ben.
A large manila envelope hung from one hand, but it stayed at his side. His voice was surprisingly quiet. Also surprising, I saw no arrogance. There was something sad about him, which might have made me think about his personal feelings for Grace, if I hadn’t been caught up in his words.
“Thirteen years ago, a woman named Greta Brandt disappeared from Santa Fe with her two-year-old son. Someone called me to say you’re that woman. I researched the facts of the case. Height, weight, smile—all the same. You look different in other ways”—he raised the envelope, suggesting there were photos inside—“but those ways could easily be cosmetic.”
Edward and I exchanged a worried glance. Cosmetic? Easily.
Grace said nothing. Her hands curled into fists, knuckles white against the inside of her elbows as Ben went on.
“Greta Brandt had gone through an ugly divorce. Her husband was wealthy and well connected. He successfully made a case that she was an unfit mother, so he got full custody of the boy. When she took off with him, she was charged with kidnapping.”
I felt a sinking sensation. But I had guessed it, hadn’t I? The pieces fit. Totally aside from makeup, hair color, and contact lenses, it explained multiple rounds of plastic surgery.