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“In case smoke filled the room?” I tilt my head, confused.

He shakes his head. “Not exactly. More like just in case someone got in here who shouldn’t be. Someone with ill intentions. But of course, a fire alarm could activate this too, I suppose.”

“Someone who wanted to steal Alma’s art? And activate what?” I motion around the room and state the obvious. “I believe your theory has a few major holes in it.”

“All that is still a mystery to me, but this isn’t. Toss me the damn keys you found.”

I dig them out of my pocket and chuck them in his direction.

He catches them and flips through the keys until he finds the one he’s looking for. It’s an odd-shaped key, one I assumed was there for decoration. “Watch and learn.”

“Do you even know if this will work?” I ask as he inserts the key into a hidden slot in the statue and turns it.

There’s a loud click and then the quiet whirl of gears turning echo above us. It takes a few seconds for whatever that was to do its thing… but when it does all I can do is watch in awe.

The ceiling shifts, opening up a few feet to allow a folding wall, identical to the other three, to drop until it comes in contact with the floor and locks into place. The portraits are now protected and hidden from view—and, apparently, the smoke that once filled this room.

“Fucking brilliant.”

Chapter 34

Isabel

My shift starts off slow, making these first three hours crawl. Needing a drink, I slip into a quiet, empty break room, the faint smell of stale coffee lingering in the air. If Dr. Grieves catches me, he’ll have an aneurysm and add it to his ever-growing list of my offenses.

While I’m here, I pull out my phone and send Aiden a text. I have a strong urge to check in and see what’s happening. It’s killing me not knowing.

ME:

How’s everything going?

AIDEN:

Still working on it. Can you talk?

Settling into a chair, I kick my feet up on the one across from me and tap the phone icon.

Aiden’s deep voice answers on the second ring. “Guess that’s a yes.”

“I’ve got a few minutes. What’s up?” I unscrew the top of the apple juice I got from the vending machine and drink some.

“Did you know there’s a false wall inside the gallery?”

“No.” I inhale at the same time I’m swallowing, sending me into a coughing fit. Once I’ve recovered, I ask, “What do you mean, a false wall?”

As he explains, my head pounds with a dull, insistent rhythm.

How did I not know this?

“Okay, let me see if I’m getting this right. You’re saying that there’s one false wall that protects the family portraits, not the others?” I rub my forehead with my right hand while I try to understand.

“Yes.” There’s a tinge of excitement in his voice that tells me he finds this way more exciting than I do. “And we don’t know if there are more. We haven’t found a way to turn those on yet.”

Taking a sip of juice, I try to figure out where a switch might be. The first one he said was in the mother’s sculpture giving birth. But according to him, they’ve checked the others and can’t find a keyhole in any of them.

“Why that wall and not the others?” The question isn’t really directed at him, more one I’m tossing out to the universe while I think out loud. “The other paintings are way more valuable. Did you take a photo of the Botticelli?”

“I guess I should’ve led with that. All the other paintings are missing.”