Page 73 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

“He may have a point.” Marit took the lead, guiding them past signs that would soon direct ticket holders to where they needed to go.

Above him, light filtered through the pyramid-shaped windows in the ceiling, competing with the harsh lamps set up along the path that would be used as the runway. Beyond it, partitions and heavy black curtains created the backstage area.

Another guard stood by an opening in the curtain of the cordoned-off area reserved for the models, designers, and support staff for the upcoming show.

Now Isabelle’s steps slowed.

“Are you okay?” Cole asked.

She shook her head. “You realize how insane this is, right?” She leaned closer and whispered, “I’m not a real model, no matter how much I’m pretending to be one.”

“No, but you’re doing a great job of making everyone believe you are.” Cole pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m sure you’ll be fantastic.”

“Just pray that I don’t trip.”

“I can do that.”

Marit walked past the guard and through the gap in the curtains. After flashing his pass again, Cole followed with Isabelle by his side.

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but the scene in front of him wasn’t it. Two long rows of styling stations ran down the center of the open space, the mirrors facing each other. It was as if a hair salon and a high-end makeup counter had joined forces and multiplied.

Racks of clothing lined the far wall, a few privacy screens interspersed among them.

Pieces of tape marked the floor like a ladder missing its side posts.

What appeared to be marble pillars framed the far side of the room where white curtains hung beside myriad portable lights. A couple of rolling cabinets had been pushed to the side of the nearest partition, both of them closed.

Camille Allard approached, relief on her face. “Isabelle, come with me. We changed the walk order.”

Panic flashed in Isabelle’s eyes.

Marit put a comforting hand on Isabelle’s shoulder. “I’ll see you in makeup.”

Cole gave Isabelle’s arm an encouraging squeeze. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks.”

Marit took several steps forward. “I’ll see you later.”

Cole fought the urge to remind Marit where to plant the hidden cameras. Marit and Isabelle knew what they were doing. They had already gone over their plans. He needed to trust her to execute her part of it.

“Where do we start?” Lars asked.

Cole reached out and pulled on the handle of the nearest cabinet. Locked.

Lars offered him a curious look. “What are you checking that for?”

“Just wondering what’s inside.” Cole scanned the area. Several models had arrived before them. He recognized Nadia talking to someone beside a rack of clothing. A couple dozen stylists and makeup artists already manned the mirrored stations in the center.

Suspecting they wouldn’t have much time before they would be in the way of the show’s preparations, Cole said, “I’ll work my way around that side of the area. You check out this side.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Anyone who doesn’t belong.”

“Besides us?” Lars asked.

“Yes. Besides us.” Cole pointed at Lars’s camera bag. “And take photos. Lots of photos.”

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