Known (21 page)

Chris’s heart stopped.
Another one?

“What?” Gianna sounded like she was choking. Chris saw her hands quiver, and she moved them under the table. “Who was it? Was there a fire?”

“No fire,” said Henry. “This guy had two shots in the head just like the guy in your cabin. But his were through his forehead.”

“Then this might not be about me,” argued Gianna. “Something was going on up in the Cascades, and Violet and I got caught in the middle. You might be missing something if you’re focusing solely on me.”

“I think the medallion and the break-in at your home say this is about you,” argued Nora. “As soon as we identify these two victims, I think we’ll have a clear picture of what’s happening.”

“How old was the other guy? Was there any identification or vehicles at the cabin?” The questions spilled out of Gianna’s mouth, and Nora held up a hand.

“I can tell you he looks to be in his early thirties or late twenties, with a stocky build. He appears to be Hispanic. Any vehicle tracks are gone under the snow.”

Gianna stared out the window, and Chris knew she was searching her memory for a face.

“I don’t know,” she said slowly, tilting her head as she looked at the investigators. “I honestly can’t give you any help off that description. I’ll take a look when he arrives at the morgue.”

“Three dead,” commented Chris.

“Was nearly five,” stated Gianna. She shuddered, but looked determined, not scared.

Nora met her gaze. “You need to be careful.”

Chris straightened in his seat as Gianna blinked at the detective. “Of course,” said Gianna.

“More careful than usual.” Henry leaned on his arms, looking sternly at Gianna. “We both think someone tried to kill you. They did a lousy job and it makes us wonder if they’ll be back to try again.”

“Violet,” whispered Gianna. The color drained from her face.

“She’s with Michael,” Chris interjected. “There’s no one I’d rather have watching my kid. And we had the same theory this morning. He’s already on high alert for anything odd around your daughter.”

Gianna looked at him. “You two talked about us?”

Sensing he was on shaky ground, Chris chose his words carefully. “After seeing the break-in at your house, Michael and I decided that someone might come looking for the two of you. We agreed that one of us will be with both of you at all times.”

“You didn’t tell me that.” Annoyance and gratitude flickered through her dark eyes.

“I was going to talk to you about it.”

“Are you armed?” Nora asked, giving Chris a careful look.

“I have a concealed carry permit. Michael does, too.”

She nodded, still holding his gaze.

“We shouldn’t be staying in Michael’s home,” Gianna stated firmly. “I don’t want anything to happen to him and Jamie. We’ll find a different place to stay.”

“We’ll come up with something,” said Chris.

But no chance in hell would he let them go somewhere on their own.

Each time Michael passed through his family room, Violet was curled up in a corner of the couch with Oro as her lightning-fast thumbs tapped out texts on her phone. She’d spent most of the previous hours talking with Jamie. He was glad there’d been no school that day because he suspected she’d want to attend with Jamie. And there was no way in hell he would let Violet head to a place with children if someone was targeting her or her mother. Here he could protect her.

When asked what she’d like to do, Violet claimed she was happy to simply rest. She hadn’t put her phone down at all as a TV movie played, another post-apocalyptic teen film where the female lead discovered she was the source of secret powers to save her people. Michael couldn’t keep them straight.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

An automatic smile appeared. “Yes, thank you. I appreciate you letting us stay here.”

Michael grabbed the ottoman, slid it over in front of Violet, and took a seat. Since he’d met her, a depressed aura had hovered around Violet, and it connected with him in a very personal place. He sensed there was a fun-loving girl under her quiet exterior. He’d seen a spark in her yesterday, but she seemed to hide it most of the time.

He wanted to know why.

He put his elbows on his knees and waited until she met his gaze. She blinked nervously. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. But I have the sense that you need to talk to someone. A person who’s not your mom or a friend three thousand miles away.”

She set her phone facedown on the couch. Either she didn’t want to be disturbed during their talk, or she didn’t want him to see texts pop up. He took a hard look at her face, searching for her true feelings.

“Which of your friends did you tell about the fire?” he asked kindly.

Violet ran a hand over Oro’s golden fur and his tongue appeared. Michael swore the dog smiled.

“I told Marie and Grace. They’re my closest friends.”

“They live here? Or in New York?”

“New York.” She kept her gaze on the dog as she petted him.

“Did they know you were going to be up at the cabin for a few days?”

“I looked at my old texts. Chris keeps asking me the same thing. ‘Who knows where you were?’ But none of my texts said where we were going. The most I told anyone was that we were going to the mountains for a few days. I assumed I’d be able to continue texting up there, but it turned out there was no Wi-Fi
or
cell signals. That should be illegal. What if someone got hurt and couldn’t call out?” Her gaze met his, pleading her case.

He held back his laughter. “I hear you. But there’re lots of places in the US like that. Sure it could be dangerous in an emergency. Some people like it that way. They like the thought that no one can find them.”

“That’s so lame.”

Utter disdain shone on her face. This generation was so different from his. Constantly connected. Always craving stimulation. He’d searched for excitement and answers throughout his teens and twenties, but he hadn’t done it from a computer. He’d physically gone looking for the entertainment. It didn’t matter if he had to drive across the country in a vehicle with a duct-taped window or fly at thirty-five thousand feet while squeezed into the smallest economy seat possible. He had to see things, touch them, smell the food of different cultures, and sleep under the stars. He doubted Violet had those same needs. Or did she have them and was unable to exercise them due to her age and sex?

“Is there something you’d like to go do?” he asked.

“No, I’m good.”

“Have you gotten to see much of the Portland area since you’ve been here?”

“Not really. I started school immediately and there hasn’t been time to explore.”

His doorbell rang. “Stay here,” he ordered as he left the room.

With one finger he moved a curtain in the living room, giving himself a view of his front porch. Two men stood there. A town car and driver were parked at the curb. His tension level lowered, but his curiosity shot up.

He opened the door. “Can I help you?” Michael asked.

“I’m Saul Messina, Gianna’s uncle. Is she staying here? I know she lost her phone, so I wasn’t able to tell her I was here.”

Michael remembered the phone call Gianna had made on Violet’s cell phone that morning, but . . . “Did she give you this address?”

Saul jerked his head in annoyance. “Not exactly.”

Michael waited. Saul Messina was as tall as he and used the power of the direct stare. Michael fed it right back to the older man. He reminded him a bit of Christopher Plummer . . . not from the
Sound of Music
era, but the later years, when he was gray-haired but still exuded haughty power. The man beside Saul was younger, dark-haired, and intense.

“Is she here?” Saul asked.

“Actually Dr. Trask is not here. She had a meeting with the police.” He didn’t invite the men in. Red flags rose right and left in his gut. “I thought you were staying downtown.”

The younger man stepped forward and held out his hand, trying a different approach. “I’m Owen Thomas. Gianna and I are old friends. I came up with her uncle because we’re both worried about her.”

Michael shook his hand, sizing him up. To him ‘old friends’ meant old boyfriend. No-longer-current boyfriend . . . most people he knew didn’t keep in touch when a relationship ended. Would Gianna call Owen an old friend?

“She seems like a very competent person.”

“Of course she is,” said Saul. “I raised her after her parents died.”

“I heard.” Michael knew exactly who Saul Messina was. Part of him was impressed by the businessman’s history. The other part was highly annoyed that he’d shown up on his doorstep and tried to order him around. “You didn’t say how you got this address.”

“Grandpa?” Violet rushed past Michael and into Saul’s giant hug.

The love on Saul Messina’s face made Michael mentally kick himself for being an overprotective ass about a woman he barely knew. Clearly this was a loving little family . . . although Owen’s fake smile spoke volumes as he watched the reunion.

Not easy dating a woman with a teenage daughter.

Saul buried his face in Violet’s hair. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Violet pulled back and beamed as she looked up at him. “Mom told you we were here?”

Saul met Michael’s gaze and looked away. “I didn’t ask her.”

“You never answered my question about that either,” Michael pointed out. He noticed Owen shifting his weight around, trying to look past Michael into the house. Violet hadn’t looked his way at all.

Saul lifted his chin and swallowed. “Your phone is linked to my account,” he told Violet. “I can track it.”

Violet stepped back. “
You tracked me?
Have you done that before?”

“It’s an important function to have in case something happens to you.”

That wasn’t a no in Michael’s book, and he bit his tongue to not point it out.
Not my circus. Not my monkeys.

“Does Mom know you can do that?”

“She’s on the same account.”

Michael was mildly impressed with Saul’s subtle evasions of Violet’s questions; Violet wasn’t. A bit of Gianna’s stubbornness shone in Violet’s dark eyes and stiff shoulders.

“We’re fine. You didn’t need to do that.”

“Now, Violet—”

“I’ll tell Mom you’re on your way to your hotel, Grandpa. Her new phone should be activated soon, and I’ll make certain she calls you. Maybe we can get together for dinner tonight.” She kissed him on the cheek to lessen the blow. Saul gave a nod to Michael and turned to leave. Owen simply left.

Violet shut the door behind the two men.

Michael’s chest tightened at the hurt on her face. “I take it you’ve had to do something like that before.”

“Mom has always warned me about how manipulative he is. They’ve had huge arguments about it. He immediately knew he’d stepped over the line but wasn’t about to admit it. I’ll bet you anything Mom doesn’t know he can track us on our phones.”

“How often do you see him?”

“Maybe four times a year. We’d go out to LA or he would come to New York pretty often. I’ve always thought of him as my grandfather.”

“As you should, since he raised your mom.”

Violet eyed him. “You know about that?”

“I love a good story ten times more than the next guy,” admitted Michael. “You lost your real grandparents. It’s not easy for a single guy to step in and raise a kid on his own.”

“Mom doesn’t like to talk about her parents’ deaths.”

“That’s understandable.” Michael held very still, his curiosity off the charts, worried that if he said the wrong thing or moved the wrong way, she would turn and run. Violet hadn’t looked him in the eye when she mentioned her mother. He believed she needed someone to talk to, but was holding back. Michael was a stranger . . . but sometimes strangers were the best people to unload on.

From the other room, a small chime indicated Violet had received a text. “Excuse me.”

She left.

The moment evaporated and disappointment swept through him. He liked Violet and Gianna. Their story fascinated him and he wanted to know more. Especially about the man who’d had the nerve to track his granddaughter’s phone when he couldn’t reach her mother. Was Saul Messina genuinely concerned or simply a controlling ass?

But this wasn’t Michael’s circus.