"The Mafia Boss Hired a Broke Nanny—Then She Entered His Death Ring and Made His $1.4 Million Killer Stallion Bow
PART 2
The file came back the same as before.
Immaculate.
Which was, his head of security Owen told him, the most suspicious thing about it.
""Nobody this young has a file this empty,"" Owen said. He spread three pages across Carter's desk. ""No traffic violations. No lease disputes. No visible medical records after she turned nineteen. Even the references — I called them. They're real. They remember her clearly. But they don't know each other and they're spread across four states.""
Carter picked up the earliest employment record.
Horse barn hand, Whitfield Ranch, Montana. Age seventeen.
Then a gap.
Then Seattle, two years of care work.
Then Portland.
Then New York, which was where the agency had found her.
""The gap,"" Carter said.
Owen nodded. ""Eighteen months. I can't place her during that period. No rental history, no utility accounts, no credit activity.""
""She existed.""
""She was careful,"" Owen said. ""There's a difference.""
Carter set the file down.
Through the tall study windows, he could see the lower paddock. Solomon was grazing near the south fence in the late afternoon light, undisturbed for the first time since arrival.
He thought about Grace's hands. Open. Still. The specific patience of someone who understood something at a level that could not be acquired quickly.
Her father raised horses.
A long time ago.
""The father,"" Carter said.
Owen's expression changed slightly. ""I'm working on it. The name she gave the agency is—""
""Common,"" Carter guessed.
""Very.""
A knock at the study door.
Carter's housekeeper, Margaret: ""Lily's asking for you, Mr. Voss. Grace says it's not urgent, but she wanted you to know.""
Carter stood.
In Lily's room, he found his daughter on the floor with a drawing spread in front of her. A gray horse with a crooked mane and what appeared to be a very large smile.
Grace sat nearby with a book, giving them space in the way she did everything: quietly, without drawing attention to the fact that she was doing it.
""I named him,"" Lily announced. ""He already has a name,"" Carter said. ""Solomon.""
Lily considered this. ""He looks like a Stanley.""
From the corner, Grace made a sound that might have been a laugh, efficiently converted.
Carter looked at her.
She met his eyes briefly, then back at her book.
""Stanley is a dignified name,"" she said to the page.
Lily beamed.
Carter watched his daughter for a moment — the particular ease with which she sat now, the way she laughed without checking herself, the way she'd reached for Grace's hand twice that day without seeming to realize she'd done it.
Three weeks.
The other nannies had lasted an average of six.
He returned to the study and called Owen.
""Keep looking,"" he said.
""How deep?""
Carter thought about the gap in the records. About eyes that registered everything and offered nothing back.
""Deep,"" he said.
He was still on the phone when the estate's perimeter alarm activated at 11:47 p.m.
Owen's voice changed instantly.
""Vehicle at the south gate. No registration. They left before our men reached them. But Carter—""
A pause.
""They left something at the gate.""
""What?""
Another pause.
""A photograph of Grace.""
May you like
The study went very quiet.
""Taken this morning,"" Owen continued. ""On the grounds.""......................................................................
