The door swung open, letting in a gust of wet, cold wind and the smell of pine trees.

Richard Brooks stood in the threshold.

His umbrella was dripping water onto the linoleum floor.

He looked at me, then at the gun, and then at Madison.

His expression didn’t change. It was the same calm, disappointed look he gave me when I chose the military over his business empire.

“Natalie,” he said, his voice smooth and steady. “I thought I heard someone down here.”

“Stop right there, Dad,” I said.

“You’re holding a weapon in my house, daughter,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

He leaned his umbrella against the wall, taking his time.

“This is the security office,” I said. “And you’re trespassing on a federal investigation.”

Richard chuckled softly, shaking the water from his overcoat.

“A federal investigation?” he asked. “With what warrant?”

He walked toward the desk, ignoring the pistol aimed at his chest.

“You always were too dramatic, Natalie,” he said. “That’s why the Army suited you. All those rules and uniforms to keep you from having to think for yourself.”