Page 65 of Mountain Summons

She thought of everything else she’d learned about Madame Guillaume. That she’d once thrown a famous critic out of her space for daring to touch the glass on one of her paintings. That she had a reputation for being formal and meticulous.

Not the kind of woman to forget an appointment.

But the gallery space was large. It was possible she was in one of the back rooms.

Lena tried again.

“Madame Guillaume?” Her voice echoed faintly across the exposed brick walls and polished concrete floor. No answer.

Lena took in the half-finished displays, the ladder leaning against the wall, floor littered with stray paper corners and packaging tape. Her fingers hovered near the strap of her bag, her instincts prickling.

She turned back toward the door—and froze.

A familiar figure blocked the exit, casting a long shadow on the floor.

“Lena,” the man said, smiling widely.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “André.” She paused. “Where’s Madame Guillaume?”

“She’s on her way. She called to say she was a few minutes late.”

“It’s dark.”Way to state the obvious.

He must have pressed a switch, because the gallery lights suddenly hummed to life overhead.

Lena squinted, looking at André. He looked … awful. Pale, red-rimmed eyes. Skin sallow. Like sleep had stopped being a priority weeks earlier.

“Let’s sit while we wait,” he offered, pulling out a couple of chairs near the wall.

Lena didn’t move. The sudden light hadn’t chased away the unease—if anything, it had sharpened it.

“Are you feeling okay, André?” she asked, stalling. Her memories flashed back to when they’d been in school together. André had been clever. Charming. Just ruthless enough to keep people at arm’s length. She hadn’t liked him then. She liked him even less now.

Lena shook her head, but she couldn’t rid herself of the bad feeling. She mapped out her pathway to the door, knowing Tristan was on the other side of that door.

“Do you have the pictures?” he asked, tone low, casual.

Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. She nodded, slow, cautious, her hand tightening around the strap of her bag.

Julien’s eyes flicked to it. “Good. Show me.”

Lena took an unconscious step back. “Maybe we should wait for Madame Guillaume.”

The pause that followed was too long. Painful.

Then the smile vanished from his face, as if someone had flipped a switch.

“I don’t think so,” he said flatly.

Lena's stomach dropped. She already knew the answer, but asked anyway. “She’s not coming, is she?”

He shook his head slowly. “She’s not even in town. Hence why this place was perfect.”

She took another step back. This time, deliberately.

His posture shifted. “Don’t make this difficult, Lena,” he said, and the change in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. “Open your laptop and show me the photographs you took that day.”

That day.

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