“Camille and Jean appear in several different paintings,” I pointed out.
The plaque beside the painting listed the name of the piece in French and English —The Poppy Field near Argenteuil— and the year, 1873.
Roux went very still. “Are you saying Gordon is hiding a Monet?”
“I don’t know what to believe. But I know that’s them. That’s the woman and the boy I heard.”
The rest was a riddle, but that part, I was sure of.
Roux studied me a moment longer, then looked at his watch and grimaced. “We can’t keep Gordon waiting any longer.”
A chill went down my spine. Maybe accompanying Roux to Gordon’s wasn’t the best idea. How could I face my godfather without bombarding him with questions?
Then I thought of Claudette — and my father, and his friendship with Gordon. This was a terrifying, tangled web, but I had to unravel it, for their sakes.
Twenty minutes later, Roux and I stood in the elevator to Gordon’s apartment. Just before it pinged for the top floor, Rouxsqueezed my hand. He didn’t utter a word, but his eyes said,Not a word about the museum or the Monet.
I nodded grimly. For once in my life, I had no problem doing as I was told.
Chapter Nineteen
GENEVIÈVE
Gordon poured himself a brandy and swirled it in a slow, calm movement. His eyes, on the other hand…
I looked away from the tempest in them, glancing at the empty spot on the wall, then the floor.
“Your orders were to maintain surveillance,” he growled at Roux.
Not a man who accepted failure gracefully, my godfather.
I would have wilted under the pressure, but Roux’s voice remained flat and steady.
“Yes, sir, but we weren’t able to follow them into the canals.”
Mina had reported that much in a brief text message, though we didn’t have the full details yet.
“Then you should have secured the asset,” Gordon barked.
Never mind that he’d said the opposite at the time.
“Yes, sir, but I judged the risk too great.”
Gordon scoffed. “The risk to yourself or the painting?”
“To your goddaughters, sir,” he replied, as level as ever. “The area was surrounded by Alexandre Ernaux’s vampires.”
I hated being the weak link, but Claudette’s death had brought the reality of the situation home to me.
“My goddaughters shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” Gordon grunted at Roux, like I wasn’t responsible for my own actions.
“I was there to confirm it really was Dad’s painting,” I explained.
Gordon muttered at his brandy.
“I was shocked by how much it sold for,” I said. “Why would anyone pay €95,000 for a painting by my father?”
Gordon tensed. Just for a nanosecond, but I was paying close attention.
