Mercer never reached the records.

Chicago police arrested him inside the Grand Regent's underground archive.

Alden Price was caught two hours later trying to board a private flight.

By evening, Brennan returned to the hospital.

“Mercer is cooperating.”

Gideon looked surprised.

“That was fast.”

“He discovered Price had already blamed everything on him.”

Dante laughed.

“Loyal partnership.”

Brennan handed Elise a folder.

“The financial evidence matches your files. The district attorney is moving forward.”

Elise exhaled slowly.

“And what happened to me?”

Brennan's expression softened.

“We have enough evidence and witness testimony to pursue that too.”

Norah looked up.

“So the bad man can't come get Mama?”

“No,” Brennan said.

“Or me?”

“No.”

Norah considered this.

“Forever?”

Brennan smiled.

“For a very long time.”

Norah hugged her mother.

Gideon quietly walked toward the window.

The case was over.

He should have felt relief.

Instead he felt something unfamiliar.

Fear.

Not fear of Mercer.

Fear of walking away.

Elise noticed.

“Gideon?”

He turned.

“We should go.”

Norah's face fell.

“Where?”

“Dante and I.”

“Why?”

“Because your mother is safe.”

Norah climbed off the bed.

“But you're coming tomorrow.”

Gideon didn't answer.

“Right?”

Elise watched him.

Gideon knelt.

“You don't need me anymore.”

Norah frowned.

“That's stupid.”

Dante suddenly became extremely interested in the ceiling.

Gideon blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You don't only visit people when they need rescuing.”

Gideon looked at Elise.

She shrugged.

“She has a point.”

Norah continued.

“You promised hot chocolate.”

“I already got you hot chocolate.”

“That was yesterday.”

Gideon nearly laughed.

“That's not how promises work.”

“Christmas promises do.”

Elise smiled.

Gideon looked between mother and daughter.

Three years ago, he'd closed the door to Juniper's bedroom.

He had never opened it again.

He had convinced himself grief was loyalty.

That moving forward meant leaving his daughter behind.

But Norah wasn't replacing Juniper.

Nobody could.

Maybe that wasn't what this was.

Maybe caring about someone new didn't erase someone lost.

Gideon stood.

“Tomorrow.”

Norah grinned.

“With marshmallows?”

“Within reason.”

“Lots.”

“Norah.”

“Lots.”

Gideon sighed.

“Fine.”

Dante whispered:

“Fearsome crime boss defeated by marshmallows.”

Gideon glared at him.

“Say that again.”

“Nothing, boss.”

Norah giggled.

---

That night, Gideon returned to his penthouse.

He stopped outside a door he hadn't opened in three years.

Juniper's room.

His hand rested on the knob.

Then he opened it.

Moonlight touched a small bed.

Books.

Stuffed animals.

A tiny Christmas snow globe.

Gideon entered.

He sat on the edge of the bed.

For a long time, he said nothing.

Finally:

“I miss you, June.”

His voice broke.

“But I think you'd like her.”

He picked up the snow globe.

Inside, a little family stood beneath a Christmas tree.

For the first Christmas since his daughter's death, Gideon didn't close the door behind him.

He left it open.

---