Chapter 1
“Who’s pulling the other rope?”
Vera’s face changed before anyone answered.
That was enough.
I crossed the gallery while Grace stared upward from beneath the second suspended sculpture. The cable above her chair had gone rigid, and somewhere beyond the ceiling track I heard the metallic groan of weight shifting against a pulley.
“Move her.”
Two of my men reached my mother before I did. Grace protested because seventy-three years had apparently taught her that accepting help was more embarrassing than sitting beneath a rigged piece of metal and glass.
I ignored her.
They moved her clear.
Seconds later, the sculpture dropped.
Not all the way.
It stopped violently six feet above the floor, swinging over the empty chair while several guests screamed and backed against the gallery walls.
I looked upward.
Different rig.
Different result.
Nina’s sculpture had hit the floor.
Grace’s had been caught by a secondary safety cable.
Someone had removed one safety system and left the other intact.
That was deliberate.
“Find the rope.”
Three bodyguards disappeared through the service corridor.
Vera remained on the floor beside the bronze display. Harlan had finally pushed the canvas rack off his legs but did not attempt to stand.
Neither asked whether Grace was safe.
Interesting.
I crouched beside Vera.
“You knew there were two.”
She stared at me.
“Of course. It’s an exhibition.”
“No.”
My voice stayed low.
“You knew both would move.”
Silence.
Then Nina ran toward me from behind the guards.
I caught her.
She buried her face against my shoulder.
“Daddy… Grandma’s chair too.”
I closed my eyes for half a second.
She knew.
Not guessed.
Knew.
“What did you hear?”
Nina pointed toward the upstairs mezzanine.
“A man said wait until Daddy picks.”
Every conversation in the room died.
I looked at Vera.
There it was.
Not two separate attacks.
One choice.
My daughter under one sculpture.
My mother under another.
And I was supposed to choose which one I reached first.
Then a bodyguard shouted from the mezzanine.
“We found him.”
A thin man in a gallery technician’s jacket appeared between two guards.
He was still holding the second release rope.
Vera closed her eyes.
I looked at Harlan.
He whispered:
“This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
May you like
That sentence did not help him.
It told me they had expected something else to happen exactly.
