Franz stood at the window of the ground-floor study and watched the last light leave the sky.
The piano was quiet now. Lily had finished practicing an hour ago, climbing down from the bench with the particular exhaustion of a child who had given something her full attention. She'd hugged Arianne without being prompted — arms around her waist, face pressed into her stomach — and then she'd gone upstairs with Leo, the whale tucked under his arm, both of them half asleep before they reached the stairs.
The house was settling. The way it did every night.
Franz didn't move.
The intel Gio shared earlier sat in his head like something lodged. The Voss siblings. The deposit. The timing that meant someone had known exactly when to strike. He'd read the printout twice. Then again. Then he'd set it down because reading it more wouldn't change the numbers.
