Caradine and Lindsay studied each other.

“It could always be Dad,” Caradine said, almost tentatively. Almost as if she didn’t want to put that out there.

“I don’t think it is,” Lindsay replied quickly. Too quickly. And she looked at her husband and Isaac, not her sister. “He was holding court the way he always did, sitting in his favorite chair in the den like it was a throne. And he didn’t allow any cell phones in the den with him on Sundays, because he was talking business. So in order for him to set off that bomb, he would have had to get up, go out of the room, grab his phone, and then run out of the house.”

She shook her head as if she’d proved something.

Caradine found Isaac’s narrow gaze. “My fatherdidn’t run anywhere. Ever. And when his cell phone wasn’t on his body, he kept it locked up in the kitchen.”

“Add to that the fact that if he got up and ran out, everyone else in the room would have gone with him like the little bootlickers they were,” Lindsay said caustically. “They all would have gone outside, which would defeat the purpose of blowing up the house.”

“Why?” Koa asked.

“Because if my father and all his lackeys were out of the house, only my mother and I would have stayed inside,” Lindsay said, her eyes on her husband while their little girl sat on the floor at her feet, singing to herself. “And no one thought either one of us was important enough to take out like that, believe me.”

Isaac looked to Caradine, who was nodding as if that weren’t any kind of revolutionary statement.

And she sounded perfectly calm when she chimed in. “I have no doubt that if my father could have faked his death, he would have. What I don’t see is him managing to keep under the radar for ten years. He loved his notoriety way too much. I can’t see him hiding out anywhere.”

Lindsay snorted. “Yeah. No. Our father didn’t hide. He preferred to taunt the FBI openly, daring them to try to take him in.”

“There were external factors,” Caradine said, as if she were turning it over in her head. “There always were. People jostling for position. Trying to push Dad out of the business, or cut him off. And, you know, his clientele weren’t exactly the most upright and honorable of people, so it could have been them, too.”

“Irish mob. Italian mob. Street gangs. Creepy private collectors.” Lindsay rolled her eyes. “And that’s just in Boston.”

“Do you think it was an external party?” Isaac asked.

“I don’t,” Caradine said, carefully, as if she werewaiting for Lindsay to disagree with her. But her sister only shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it. And the fact it’s been ten years is the troubling part. Because, sure, let’s say it was the people who took the credit for killing him. The Connollys have their own troubles. Local disputes, infighting, and that court case. Are they really going to waste time worrying about the possibility that two of the least important people in that house might still be alive? I don’t see it.”

“A year is a long time for your average dirtbag,” Lindsay agreed. “Much less ten years.”

“So that means you think it was family,” Blue said.

“Inner circle?” Templeton asked.

“There was only inner circle in the house,” Lindsay said. “Mom was in the kitchen. So was I, because that’s where we waited for the men to be finished talking about important things. Like my life.”

“Don’t be silly, Linds,” Caradine drawled. “Why would they waste time talking about your life in a big meeting like that?”

Lindsay actually laughed, and Caradine did, too, and Isaac felt like he’d sustained a blow. Because Caradine laughed so rarely. And Lindsay sounded just like her. And his chest hurt, when he was trying to think strategy and probabilities, because they sounded so amused. And it wasn’t the least bit funny.

He was only slightly gratified when he saw that the rest of the team looked equally startled, something a person would notice only if they were looking for it. And it didn’t do Isaac’s chest any good to think about the fact that clearly, since Koa didn’t look surprised at all, Lindsay must laugh a lot more than her sister did.

“I brought them drinks,” Lindsay was saying, her voice a little soft as she conjured up her memories. “Whatever they were talking about, it was bad. Dad was pissed.”

Caradine rolled her eyes. “Mickey Sheeran existed ina state of perpetual rage. So when Lindsay says that he was pissed, that means he was much worse than usual.”

“They obviously didn’t say anything sensitive when I was in the room, but I did get the impression that they were specifically mad at someone.” Lindsay looked over at Koa, and whatever she saw there made her straighten her shoulders a bit, then take a breath. “Sometimes something was wrong and you could tell that it was a deal gone bad or something like that. But Dad was wound up in a different way that night. It was weird.”

Caradine nodded, sitting with her own shoulders squared next to her sister. “That’s what you texted me.”

“I didn’t want her to come in,” Lindsay said. Her gaze traveled from Isaac to Jonas, then over to Blue and Templeton. But then she went back to Isaac, and stayed there. “It was too tense, and she always made Dad worse.”

“That’s so hard to believe,” Isaac said idly.

Caradine’s eyes actually gleamed, which was the version of her laughter that he knew best. “It’s hard to wrap your head around, I know.”

“And sometimes, it was fine,” Lindsay continued. “She would wind him up and he would freak out, but in a normal way.”