Free Dark Room by Andrea Kane

found out otherwise.
    A loud whirring noise had been emanating from the kitchen since he’d arrived. A younger female voice called out, “Second round of tomato-carrot-celery juice, coming up.”
    Lane blinked as a pretty strawberry blond in her late twenties with the energy level of Road Runner burst out of the kitchen, carrying a pitcher of her homemade concoction. “Hi.” She didn’t miss a beat when she saw him standing with her mother. “You must be Lane Montgomery. I hope you’re ready for the best combo of beta-carotene and lycopene you’ve ever tasted.” She flourished a glass. “Can I pour you some?”
    “Sure.” Lane’s lips twitched. “I’m guessing you’re Jill.”
    “Guilty as charged.”
    “Don’t let my daughter intimidate you.” Congressman Shore strolled into the hallway, wearing a caramel-and-black-print crewneck sweater and black slacks. He stuck out his hand to shake Lane’s. “We actually have normal drinks here, too—everything from a full liquor cabinet to beer to Diet Coke. So don’t panic if you’re not a health freak. Just speak up.”
    “Actually the juice sounds good,” Lane replied, setting down his camera bag and taking the glass with a nod of thanks. “I’m always up for trying something new.”
    Arthur led Lane into the living room. The L-shaped sectional and matching armchair were sand-colored brushed twill with thick down cushions and sage-green throw pillows. The entire room had a cool, natural feel to it—Elyse’s touch, Lane suspected.
    “Have a seat,” Arthur invited, gesturing toward the sofa.
    Lane complied, taking a sample taste of his vegetable juice. “This is excellent,” he called out to Jill, holding up his glass. It was, too. Refreshing, with a kick.
    “Good—a man of taste.” She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “I’ll make more when Morgan gets here.” With that, she glanced at her watch. “Where is she, anyway?”
    “She called,” Elyse supplied. “She said she had an errand to run and she’d be a few minutes late. She should be here anytime now.” A flicker of concern crossed her face. “I hope she ate lunch. She hasn’t had a decent meal in two days.”
    “This morning I coaxed half a muffin down her throat,” Jill murmured.
    “And I coaxed down the other half when I dropped by the office,” Arthur added. “But you’re right. She’s not eating.”
    “Or sleeping,” Jill added.
    “I’ll get the fruit-and-cheese platter.” With a burst of nervous energy, Elyse headed to the kitchen. “We can start nibbling while we wait for Morgan.” She returned a moment later, placing the platter on the coffee table and giving Lane a rueful, self-conscious look. “Forgive us for the familial worry. This is a difficult time.”
    “No apology necessary.” Lane weighed his words carefully. “I can’t begin to imagine how hard this must be. I’m sorry this whole painful chapter in your lives has to be dredged up again.”
    “So are we.” Arthur spoke frankly, not mincing any words. “This news was a shock to us all. But the one hit hardest was Morgan. My goal is to protect her as much as possible—starting with our topics of conversation. Tonight, let’s discuss lighter topics, like next week’s itinerary. There’ll be a time and place for getting into the nitty-gritty of the investigation.”
    “Understood.” Lane nodded, hearing the message loud and clear. He had to respect the congressman’s show of paternal protectiveness. “Speaking of next week’s itinerary, I can’t wait to hear what you have on tap for us.”
    Arthur relaxed, and a flicker of amusement lit his eyes. “You won’t be disappointed. As I recall, you were no slouch when we did that Sports Illustrated spread. You were quite the rock climber and bungee jumper. Are you still in top shape?”
    “Better than that.” A corner of Lane’s mouth lifted. “I’ve been doing double duty at the gym so I can keep up with you.”
    “You can try.”