Page 56 of Mountain Summons

Lena blanched. “You think my father’s in danger.”

Tristan shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. But the teams are going to have to analyze every possibility. And yourfather wants you to be safe while they do.” Shit. She looked like she was going to pass out. “Breathe, Lena. Please.”

A soft rush of air passed her lips. “But my father …”

“Your father can take care of himself, Lena.”

“But if he’s in danger?—“

“Then you being there will only make things worse.”

She sighed, but apparently couldn’t come up with a counterargument.

The light turned green, and Tristan accelerated gently. “Okay?”

“On one condition. I don’t want to be left in the dark. The moment you know anything, I want to know as well.”

Tristan nodded. That was a deal he was willing to make.

“I promise I’ll?—“

Lena’s phone rang. She picked it up without looking at the screen, but her face fell moments later. “André. I’m sorry. No, now’s not a great time.”

Tristan could hear a man’s voice on the other side of the line, but couldn’t make out his words.

“The photographs?” Lena asked, distractedly. “No. I told you. Those are with the police.” She paused as the man explained something. “Okay. I’m not sure they’re in the same style, though, I usually focus on—“ Another pause. Whoever this asshole was, he was hardly letting her get a word in. “Sure. I guess we can meet tomorrow. Send me the address of the gallery. Thanks.”

“Bad news?” he asked, once she’d finished the call.

Lena looked distracted. “No, I suppose not. André’s an old high-school acquaintance who became a reporter. We hadn’t really kept in touch, but he reached out after we found the body. Now he says there’s a gallery interested in my photographs.”

“The photographs you took at the cave?”

She shook her head. “He was interested in those, but I explained those are with the police. The gallery wants to see my other photographs, apparently.”

“That’s … good, right?” He didn’t know much about photography, but it seemed like that could be an opportunity.

Lena nodded distractedly. “I guess. He’s going to introduce me to the gallery owner tomorrow.” She paused. “You really think my father’s going to be okay?”

Lena

Tristan unlocked the door and stepped aside, letting Lena walk in ahead of him. She didn’t hesitate—just moved past him with a soft brush of her shoulder against his.

He followed her in, their weekend bags slung over his shoulder, and shut the door quietly behind him. He hesitated for half a second, his hand brushing the lock.

“Don’t even think of locking that door,” she said, wishing her voice sounded firmer. “I won’t be locked in.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “You promise you’ll stay put?”

She turned to face him, arms folded loosely across her chest. “Only until we hear from my father. And if you hear anything, I’ll be the first to know.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Tristan agreed, sealing the promise.

Lena studied him for a moment—searching for any sign of evasion or sugarcoating, but found nothing. His blue eyes were earnest.

“Okay. Then I’ll stay,” she said easily.

With that, she slipped off her shoes, lining them up neatly by the door, and shrugged out of her coat, hanging it on the hook by the entryway. It was crazy how at home she felt in Tristan’s place.

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