Page 6

“You're so funny.” I stuck my tongue out at her.

As she went back to her table, I returned to the reliquary's file. I saw a note about the monastery and realized I should have started with Stylos. If there was information about the symbol anywhere, it would be at the monastery where the reliquary was found. I searched our database for any information on the monastery, but there was only a storage number, no information online.

“I need to go to storage,” I said to Sabrina.

She just bopped her head.

Sighing, I left. If she even noticed I was gone, she'd assume I went to the bathroom. The storage box I needed was in the basement of another building. It took me longer to find than I'd anticipated, and it was just a single file.

In the file was information about the monastery, including a 6x4 envelope full of photographs. I pulled out the photos and flipped through them. Tucked between pictures of frescoes, I found what I was after—a photo of a half-collapsed stone wall. Carved into it, weathered but unmistakable, was the symbol.

With shaking hands, I turned the photo over, expecting to find a date and the location of the wall in the monastery. But there was none of that, only three words written in faded ink. He killed them.

I searched the rest of the file, but there was nothing about the carving. So, I took pictures of both sides of the photograph with my phone, returned the original to its envelope, put the folder back, and returned to my lab in a daze. After rounding the corner, I came to a halt.

Tristan stood outside the employee door that led to the labs. He was in another tailored suit, his hands behind his back. Instead of casual, the pose looked like a warning, enhancing the breadth of his shoulders and chest.

“You found something.” Tristan's gaze slid over me slowly before he returned his attention to my face.

Yesterday, I would have been thrilled to see the heat in his eyes. At the moment, I wanted answers more than I wanted him. “Come inside.” I unlocked the door with my key card and waved him in.

As we headed for my lab, he asked, “What did you find?”

I stopped, brought up the picture of the Stylos carving on my phone, and handed it to him. With Sabrina in the lab, it was better to confront him in the hallway. As he looked at the image, Tristan went still. His eyes fixed on the carving and the same prey/predator look I'd seen before came over his face. Then it was gone, hidden beneath a mask of composure.

Finally, he asked, “Where did you get this?”

“In storage. This was taken at Stylos.” I watched his jaw work.

“Historical records on that site are unreliable.” Tristan raised his chin.

“There was writing on the back of the photograph.” I showed him the other picture I'd taken. “Do you know who they're referring to?”

“No. Why would I?”

I let the silence stretch, because I've learned that silence makes people nervous enough to answer, and I watched his hands instead of his face. They moved even while the rest of him remained still, his thumb tracing the edge of my phone. He shoved the phone back at me.

“Why do you even care about this symbol?” His speech took on a musical accent. I couldn't place it, perhaps Mediterranean. It vanished with his next words. “It has nothing to do with the reliquary.”

“You went pale when you saw it.”

“I did not.”

“Now you're flushed.”

His mouth curved, but it was too sharp to be a smile. “Are you always this relentless?”

“Only when someone's lying to me.”

That earned an actual laugh from him, short and surprised. I felt absurdly pleased with myself, which was its own kind of warning. I barely knew this man, and what I did know should make me wary, not eager to win any kind of approval from him.

“The symbol matches the tattoo on your chest,” I said.

His laughter stopped instantly. “I don't have a tattoo.”

“I saw it yesterday when you bent forward. Unless it's not a tattoo, but I don't know what else it could be. I've never seen a gold tattoo before. Is it a new type of ink?”

“You were mistaken.”