Slowly, I drew my foot away from Gen’s. For both our sakes, I needed to get myself together, and fast.
“No messages from Henrik either,” I grumbled, checking my phone. “But, yay. Gordon wrote.”
Everyone groaned.
“Apparently, he has evidence to believe Grepper had the painting delivered here,” I continued.
“Let’s hope he’s right,” Marius muttered.
“Oh. Clement sent me a message too,” Mina said.
“Mr. Fucking Persistent,” Marius muttered.
Mina elbowed him. “He wants us to be safe.”
Bene hooted. “Clement wantsyouto be safe.” He pointed to Mina and Gen. “The rest of us can rot in hell as far as he’s concerned — another thing he has in common with Gordon.”
Mina opened her mouth to protest, then sighed and changed tacks. “Clem called to report new information on the case. Residents on Claudette’s street saw a dark Renault come and go a few days before…” Her face fell as she searched for words. “…before the night she died. The camera at the Pelletier farm gate caught the same vehicle, and Clem was able to trace it to Paris.”
“Let me guess,” I grunted. “To Alexandre Ernaux or a known associate of his.”
Mina nodded. “We’re getting closer to establishing a clear link between Claudette’s death and this art case.”
Marius grimaced. “Now, we just need to haul Celeste in.”
Bene pointed out the window, indicating the mountainside where Kurt Grepper’s villa stood. “Follow the money, and you’ll find Celeste. Or should I say, follow the painting?”
We split up shortly after breakfast and spent the day reconnoitering. Mina and Marius drove to the far side of the mountain, shifted, and spied on Grepper’s property from the sky. Bene faked a hurt knee to appear like a skier left behind for the day and poked around town for information and vantagepoints from which to observe the villa. Gen and I drove up the steep mountain road and set off on foot, following a trail, then detouring through the woods to creep closer to the building.
Gen tramped through the snow in high boots. I ditched my footwear a short time later, along with my clothes, and shifted. My paws were as good as snowshoes, and my fur kept me warm.
“Wow,” she breathed as I crept ahead.
I swished my tail, delighted she didn’t mind having a tiger around.
The closer we came to Grepper’s property, the stealthier we became.
Any chance of you hearing the painting from out here?I asked.
“I doubt it.” Still, she cocked her head and listened for a good minute.
I listened too, catching the whisper of the wind, the faint puffs of her breath, and the glimmer of sun in the icicles in the trees. In better circumstances, it would have been magical.
Then I frowned. The less magic we encountered at a warlock’s mountain retreat, the better.
Gen shook her head. “I can’t hear the painting. It’s too far, and those walls are too thick.”
We trekked around a while longer, then returned to the trailhead, where Gen waited for me to shift and get dressed. The moment I did, she pegged me with a snowball.
“Hey!” I protested, shaking off the snow.
She grinned. “Couldn’t resist.”
I chased her down, and she squeaked when I caught her.
“This is what I can’t resist,” I murmured, kissing her.
That hour we spent together up on the mountain was the highlight of my day. A highlight of my life, actually, which seemed dull and dreary now that I looked back to everything before the past few weeks.
