“Yeah, we’re done.” Grady stood.
He’d been so self-righteous about the Needlepoint Mafia wasting police time and resources and then there he was doing the same thing. He could have released Olive St. Clair as soon as he’d heard back from the station in Chicago but instead, he was talking about their dead fathers.
“We are?” Olive’s face lit up.
Shit. She’d still thought she was in trouble.
What was he doing? How had all of his training and ethics flown out the window?
She smiled up at him and his silent questions were answered.
This woman might not be a criminal, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous. Very dangerous.