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It hadn’t been blood, but did that make it any better? Her show, everything she loved and worked so hard for had been ruined. It was bad enough when her paintings had been destroyed. But this?
No one would remember the artwork, the money she had raised for charity, the choir, the celebratory atmosphere or the prestigious guests. They would remember Bree, standing on that stage, humiliated, covered from head to foot in chocolate. Of course, the journalists who had been there would be only too eager to report on it. Because she was a Colton, there would be those who would be equally happy to learn of her mortification.
His tumultuous thoughts were interrupted by the security buzzer, and Rylan was glad of it. It was Trey, and he pressed the button to admit him.
“Where is she?” Trey looked all around as soon as he strode through the door.
“In the shower.” Rylan checked his watch. “It’s been an hour.”
“You’re sure she’s okay?”
“She answers me when I speak to her through the door, which I’ve been doing every five minutes,” Rylan said. “Her response started out as a request to leave her alone. It’s been getting steadily less polite.”
“Sorry.” Trey rubbed a hand over his face. “I know you’re not an amateur. How did you get Mom and Dad to leave?”
“Bree told them she was fine and that she’d call them later. They didn’t want to go, but they knew I’d be here.” Rylan led the way through to the kitchen and pointed to the coffeemaker. “What did you find in the gallery?”
“David Swanson helped me to get rid of the guests. Most people were keen to leave. They were in shock and just wanted to give Bree their best wishes. The press—” Trey’s lips tightened. “Yeah, a few of them needed more persuasion.”
“I don’t suppose you can stop the story from getting out?” Rylan already knew the answer even as he asked the question.
Trey choked back a laugh. “About as much chance of that as an overnight thaw on Pine Peak.”
Rylan handed him a cup of coffee. “And the chocolate? How was that rigged up?”
“A basic electronic device with a remote control. The chocolate was in a tub. It was set up so that when the button was pressed on the remote control, the ceiling tile would drop away and the tub would tilt forward at the same time,” Trey said. “We found the remote control in a trash can in the lobby.”
“Fingerprints?” Rylan asked.
“I’ve sent it for testing, but I’m not hopeful. Anyone who goes to these lengths is likely to have taken the precaution of wearing gloves.”
A sound made them turn. Bree was dressed in gray sweatpants and a blue sweater. She wore thick socks and a towel was wound around her head like a turban. Rylan thought she looked small, fragile and so lovely it made his heart hurt to look at her.
“Hey.” He tried for a bright tone that didn’t work. “Do you want coffee? Anything to eat?”
“I’ll get some water.” She went to the refrigerator, pausing to pat Papadum as he shoved his nose into her hand.
Me and the dog. We both have it bad.
When she returned, Trey told her what he’d found out about the setup with the chocolate.
Bree paused with her water bottle part way to her mouth. “Wouldn’t that take time to organize?”
Trey shrugged. “The actual electronics might take some putting together, but I don’t think it would have been done in the gallery. I’m picturing our guy making the device and then putting it in place as a complete unit. That would only take minutes.”
“But it was in full view of the gallery,” Rylan pointed out. “Anyone carrying a tub of chocolate and an electronic device would have stood out. Plus, he must have had to climb a stepladder to booby trap the ceiling tile. Just like the stunt with the programs, it must have been done when the gallery was closed.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Trey admitted. “But there haven’t been any break-ins, right?”
Bree shook her head. “With everything that’s been going on, I would have told you.”
“Even so, someone must have overridden your security system.” Trey headed toward the door. “I’ll check with David before I head home.”
