"Bernard?" Marissa called hesitantly when she saw the back of the man who was standing in the parlor waiting for her.

He turned slowly to her. Rissa," he said simply.

"How did you?" she trailed off as he turned back to the portrait he had been staring at before she entered.

"Is that your grandfather?" He asked, pointing to one of them.

"Yes," Marissa muttered as she looked at the portrait he was referring to with a smile.

That had been one of her favorite pastimes back then—staring at the portrait and imagining her grandfather using the gun he had with him in the picture.

Her grandfather had been a...