“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.