Page 61 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

Cole opened the door a fraction and peered out through the narrow opening.

“What do you see?” Lars asked.

“Three women talking in the hallway,” he said.

“Is any of them Marit or Isabelle?”

“Nope,” Cole said. “Try calling Marit.”

Lars dialed Marit’s phone.

She answered immediately. “We’re both okay,” she said. “The intruder bolted when the alarm went off.”

Lars released a ragged breath. “Thank goodness. Where are you now?”

“In our flat. Where are you?”

“Almost in your flat,” he said. “What number is it?”

“412. But—”

“We’ll be right there,” Lars said.

“They’re okay?” Cole asked as Lars disconnected.

“Yeah. Number 412. Let’s go.”

Cole opened the stairwell door wide enough that he could glance up and down the hall. He held up his hand to have Lars wait. Lars tensed. What now? A door closed, and Cole’s hand dropped.

“We’re clear,” he said. “The women who were out there just went into their flats.”

Moving rapidly, the two men entered the hall. Lars glanced at the numbers on the nearest doors: 408, 409.

“Turn right,” Lars said. “The numbers are going up that way.”

410. 411. Another door clicked, and suddenly, Isabelle was standing in front of them. Her eyes widened, but without a word, she stepped back into the flat, leaving the door open for them to follow.

Vaguely aware of Isabelle locking the door behind them, Lars crossed the small living room in six long strides and wrapped his arms around Marit.

“You’re really okay?” he asked.

She nodded, clinging to him as he pressed a kiss to her lips.

“It was a good thing we put in the motion sensors,” Isabelle said. “The alarm spooked the intruder enough to send him running before he got any farther than the front door.”

“Did you see him?” Cole asked.

“Yes, but not well enough to ID him.”

Cole must have recognized her frustration. He brushed a kiss across her cheek. “It’s okay. How long ago did he disappear?”

Isabelle glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “About five minutes ago.”

Cole nodded. “He’s probably long gone—especially if he was working with someone else—but I’m going to do a quick sweep outside the building just in case.” He met Lars’s eyes. “Stay with the girls. I don’t care who tells you that you’re not allowed in here. Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lars said, tightening his hold on Marit.

Cole nodded. “Lock the door behind me. I’ll be back soon.”

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