“Kate...Kate?”
Kate’s eyes flew open. She fought to suck in a breath of air. She sat up and felt the perspiration running down her forehead as she tried to figure out where she was.
“Kate, slow down.” Marcus’s voice tried to calm her. “You’re okay. It was just a bad dream.”
She looked up from the couch where she was sitting and tried to stop the room from spinning. Marcus knelt beside her, his hands gently on her shoulders.
“I thought I heard Sophie,” she said. “She was calling me.”
Marcus ran his hand down her arm. “It was just a dream, Kate.”
She shook her head, still not convinced. Everything had seemed so real. She had heard Sophie’s voice. She had to be somewhere nearby.
Marcus’s expression softened. “You fell asleep after we all moved to the couch to finish talking about tomorrow. You looked so tired, though, I didn’t want to wake you. I’m just waiting for Jocelyn. She had to run out for a few minutes. She’s planning to stay with you. Remember?”
Kate nodded, then pressed her fingers against the sides of her temples as the room slowly began to come back into focus. They needed to find Chad’s father. Planned to visit the Louvre in the morning. But she had been so tired. Thought she would just close her eyes for a few moments while the three of them finished planning.
“Sophie was there...hiding in the shadows, out of reach,” she said, the dream still just as clear. “I wanted so bad to find her. To bring her home.”
“I know. It was just a dream.”
But it wasn’t just a dream. Her heart was still pounding. Sophie was gone. That was real.
He ran his thumb down her cheek, the concern clear in his eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”
She grasped his hand and nodded. “I will be.”
Eventually. Though she was quite certain that the scars left by this experience might never completely fade.
“Our conversation in the park was interrupted.” He sat back, studying her. “You were going to tell me about your family.”
She knew what he was doing. Trying to distract her. Trying to pull her away from the lingering panic of the dream.
“I... My parents had been married for twenty years when I was born. My sister was born eleven months later.”
“That had to be a bit of an adjustment for them.”
“It was.” The grip of the dream began to diminish. “They were essentially starting parenthood in their mid-forties with two children under one. From the stories I’ve heard, it was quite a challenge. After twenty years of marriage, they had to completely rethink their entire lives. They owned a butchery, enjoyed traveling, and going out with friends, when all of a sudden they were taking care of children.”
“So here’s an odd question. Why didn’t you or your sister decide to follow in your parents’ footsteps and take over the butchery?”
Kate laughed, as the tension between them temporarily eased. “From around seventh grade through university, I was a vegetarian, something that horrified my father. I’m still not a big meat eater, though I don’t mind a good, well-done steak every once in a while. They eventually sold the business and retired once we graduated from college.”
“And Rachel? The two of you seem close.”
Thoughts of her sister brought the dark shadow of the moment back over their conversation. “Rachel’s had a few rough years. I’ll admit I wasn’t behind her relationship with Chad from the beginning, and now...well, I hate thinking that I was right about him.”
“What had you concerned?”
She paused, wondering if he was asking as an agent or simply because he was trying to be supportive. “I’m not sure. He was good to her for the most part, but when he asked her to marry him they hardly knew each other. He’d traveled extensively. I think she suspected he was having an affair at one point. It wasn’t something we spoke about. But the wonderful outcome of their relationship was Sophie. I love being an aunt, and have spoiled her from the day she was born.”
“What about your father?”
“My father passed away five years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I still miss him, but my mom’s busy and doing well. Loves being a grandmother and takes care of Sophie several days a week.” Kate stared across the room, ready to take the attention off herself. “What about you?”
“I have a big family,” Marcus began. “Sort of a yours, mine and ours scenario.”
“Really?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I don’t know. I kind of pictured you as an only child.”
“And why is that?”
She leaned back slightly, taking the opportunity to study him. Blue eyes, hint of a five-o’clock shadow, determined chin and a strong jawline. “You seem more the strong, silent type. Independent. A deep need for privacy.”
“I can assure you that growing up, I had no privacy. Actually there are seven of us and I’m the oldest. My parents divorced, then both of them remarried, so our family is a crazy mixture of half and step siblings.”
“Are you close?”
“Work tends to get in the way, and we’re spread out across the country, with my youngest brother in Korea, where he teaches English. I’m closest to one of my brothers, Shane. He lives on the other side of Dallas. I eat Sunday dinner with him and his family every month or two and go fishing and camping with them when I have time off. Hang out with his three boys.”
He told her about his younger sister, who lived in Italy, the trip he took last year with his brothers to Chicago and about his faith that struggled during college until he’d determined to make it his own.
Though she was enjoying his stories, and the chance to see him as a person and not just an agent, she couldn’t stifle a yawn.
“You’re tired,” he said.
She nodded. “I just need a good night’s sleep.”
Without any dreams.
“And tomorrow, if you—”
“I’ll be fine tomorrow. Please...stop worrying.”
“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.” Marcus kissed her gently on the cheek then stood up as Jocelyn stepped through the front door. “I’ll see you in the morning, then, Kate. Good night.”
* * *
The next morning, Kate stayed close to Marcus as they made their way through the line of tourists across the open courtyard outside the Louvre’s famed pyramid entrance, which provided light to the underground lobby. She knew Marcus still wasn’t sold on the idea of her coming along, but at least he hadn’t tried to make her stay behind. She watched the crowds for signs of the men who’d tried to snatch her, but so far she hadn’t seen anyone who looked familiar.
Everywhere she looked, there were uniformed officers. She’d noticed them on the streets, in the metro and outside Notre Dame. Today, there seemed to be additional soldiers carrying automatic guns outside one of Paris’s top tourist destinations.
“Is the police’s presence always so...pronounced?” she asked, taking a step forward in the moving line.
“Eight-million-plus visitors come to the Louvre alone every year,” Marcus told her. “Add a few networks of criminals, an influx of criminal gangs from Eastern Europe along with the occasional bomb threat, and I think the added security is probably here to stay. I’ve heard they’ve also increased the number of surveillance cameras and added a significant number of plainclothes officers.”
“I guess I should feel safer.”
But she didn’t. Not really. Instead they seemed more a reminder of what could go wrong.
She walked through the security checkpoint, checked her bag through the X-ray machine, then studied the crowd while Marcus bought them two tickets. An older couple walked past, hand in hand, a young woman pushed a stroller, while a group of students armed with backpacks hurried to keep up with their teachers.
More reminders she wasn’t here to enjoy the museum.
Because armed police, bomb threats, kidnappings and ransom notes weren’t exactly a part of her day-to-day world. Her life ran on routine, made up of family, church and school. Until the past few days had managed to twist that life into something she couldn’t even recognize.
She tried to stuff the fear away in a separate compartment—one she’d have to deal with when this was all over. For now, they needed to go ahead with their plan because so far the police hadn’t been able to locate Chad’s father. Without Rachel—and without Monsieur Laurent—their chances of finding the diamonds were diminishing by the hour. And the clock was ticking.
“I guess you’ve never had the chance to visit the Louvre?” Marcus asked, pulling her away from her thoughts.
“No.” The desire to forget reality and simply meander through the thousands of treasures tucked away throughout the famed museum tugged harder.
“Originally,” Marcus began, “it was built as a fortress back in the twelfth century, but several hundred years later it was reconstructed to serve as a royal palace.”
Kate glanced at the brochure he’d handed her, the tension in her gut refusing to lift.
“By the end of the eighteenth century,” he continued, “the Louvre had become an art museum, filled with royal artifacts as well as acquisitions from conquered lands, which is why you’ll find almost everything you could imagine. Egyptian antiques, ancient Greek and Roman crown jewels—”
“And my favorite.” She flashed him a weak smile. “The Mona Lisa.”
“And that of half the people in this museum at the moment.”
But today she wasn’t expecting to catch a glimpse of Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece, or the armless beauty of the Venus de Milo or any of the other famed offerings of the museum. Today she was simply praying to find answers that would lead her to her niece.
Using the museum’s official map, Marcus led her through a maze of halls and rooms. Throughout, painters were working on creating their own replicas of some of the most famous works of art in the world. With their easels and stools set up across the diverse rooms of the Louvre’s galleries, in front of the gold-framed works of art displayed on colored walls.
“Do you see him in here?” Marcus asked.
“Not yet.”
She kept walking beside Marcus, barely glancing at the art they passed. Her nerves were on edge as she searched the crowd for Monsieur Laurent. For the men who were after her.
A moment later, she found him. Andre Laurent was standing inside the grand Renaissance room, a fine paintbrush in his hand next to a colorful palette of paints. She crossed the large room, stopping half a dozen feet from where he stood, staring at the painting hanging on the wall in front of him. He wore a collared shirt and a striped vest, as well as the same overgrown mustache she remembered. Sophie had once commented how he always tickled her cheek when he greeted her.
“Excusez-moi, Monsieur Laurent...”
Andre Laurent looked away from the painting to Kate. The older man’s brow furrowed for a moment as if trying to remember who she was, then shifted into a broad smile. “You’re Rachel’s sister.”
“Yes. I’m Kate.” She smiled at the older man. “I’m visiting Paris for a few days. Rachel told me you spend most of your time here. I was hoping to find you.”
He set down his paintbrush and paints, then shook his head, still clearly surprised. “It’s good to see you.” He smiled, then kissed her lightly on each cheek before pulling back and catching her gaze. “You look beautiful, Kate, and so much like Rachel. The same eyes and cheekbones.”
“Thank you. And your painting. It’s beautiful, as well.”
“The artist is Bernardino Luini, and he painted this almost five hundred years ago.” He pointed to the painting on the wall. “Nativity and Annunciation to the Shepherds. Five hundred years ago, and I’m still learning from him.”
“Rachel told me how much you enjoyed creating replicas.”
“Four hours a day. Five days a week. Each canvas must be a different size from the original and signed, dated and stamped. There are 150 of us who waited a year to get this privilege. For these few hours I’m here every day it’s like I become the student to the master painter, and the Louvre is the book from which I learn to read. That was first said by the renowned Postimpressionist painter Paul Cezanne, who did the same thing over 150 years ago. But enough of me, I had no idea you were in Paris. Rachel didn’t tell me. How long has it been...five years?”
“Yes. It’s been a long time. When Sophie was born.” Kate turned to Marcus, unable to put off the inevitable. “I’d like you to meet Marcus O’Brian. He’s an FBI agent from the United States.”
M. Laurent shook Marcus’s hand. “FBI? I’m afraid I don’t understand. I assumed you were in Paris on holiday.”
“No, we’re here to speak to you about Chad.”
M. Laurent’s face paled. “I’m sorry...I don’t understand.”
Kate glanced around the room, where half a dozen tourists studied the paintings in the room. “Is there somewhere private we could go? The police have been trying to find you.”
The older man clasped his hands together. “Chad told me to be careful. Told me to go to a hotel for a few days. That he was in some kind of trouble, but he wouldn’t tell me what was going on.”
“M. Laurent, I don’t know how to tell you this, but—”
He looked up and caught her gaze. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Kate drew in a deep breath and nodded. “I’m so sorry. He was hit by a truck yesterday afternoon near Notre Dame. I know that he and my sister had their issues, but he was still family. I really am so, so sorry.”
M. Laurent stumbled backward a step, then sat down on his stool. “I knew something was wrong, but he wouldn’t tell me. I even tried to call Rachel to see what she knew, but I never was able to get through.”
“Chad was involved with some dangerous people,” Marcus added. “We’re still not 100 percent sure if they were the cause of his death, but Kate is helping me find answers.”
“What about Rachel?” the older man asked.
Kate’s stomach felt queasy at the question. She hadn’t expected to have to tell him about Rachel and Sophie, as well. “Chad didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what? Except for his call on Tuesday, telling me to go to a hotel, it’s been at least a month since I spoke to Chad.”
“She...” Kate looked to Marcus, then told M. Laurent briefly what had happened with Rachel. “She’s still in the hospital, and will more than likely be there for a while.”
“Did this have anything to do with whatever Chad was involved in?”
“Yes. They are looking for something that he had and believe Rachel now has.”
“What about Sophie?”
“They kidnapped her. As leverage.”
“Took her?”
“The people who shot Rachel. There’s evidence they brought her to Paris. Which is why I’m here.”
M. Laurent tugged on the side of his mustache. “Rachel’s such a sweet girl. And that Sophie. When they were here in Paris I enjoyed showing them around the city. Made an old man’s heart feel proud, and young again, for that matter. Never did understand my son’s foolish actions. She’s so good at keeping in touch. Sends me photos of her and Sophie at least once a month, along with birthday and Christmas letters. Chad was really my only family except for Rachel and Sophie, and now... She promised to come back and visit as soon as she could.”
“And I’m certain she still will. She loved her time in Paris.”
M. Laurent shook his head. “I’m sorry. This is all so very...confusing to me.”
Kate waited while a group of schoolchildren followed their teachers through the room, barely paying attention to the masterpieces surrounding them.
“M. Laurent,” Kate finally said, “I understand that this is difficult for you, but in order to get Sophie back, we need certain information. Marcus would like to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course. Let me pack up my paints and turn them in first. I can’t paint any more today anyway.” He quickly organized his things, allowing Kate and Marcus to help carry his easel and stool to where the copyists stored their supplies. “I’m not sure how I can help, though. Like I said, Chad didn’t tell me anything.”
“Can you tell me how Chad sounded the last time you spoke to him, M. Laurent?” Marcus asked as they started for the exit of the room, the stunning works of art surrounding them momentarily forgotten.
“It was clear something was wrong,” he said. “I tried to get Chad to talk, because I knew he was involved in something he shouldn’t be. He seemed nervous. Distracted. Like there was a ghost behind every shadow. He thought he could continue doing whatever it was he was doing without getting caught. And now...now my son is dead and his family torn apart because of stupid decisions he made.”
“There were some music boxes Chad bought for Sophie,” Marcus continued as they walked into the next room. “He sent them to her for her birthday and Christmas the past couple years. Rachel shipped them to someone. We think it might have been you.”
His weathered hand clasped Kate’s arm. “Rachel did send them to me. They were beautiful. Made in Switzerland, and they weren’t cheap.”
“Do you still have them?”
“I couldn’t bring myself to sell them. For one, they were beautiful. I know Rachel worries about me. I have some health problems and can’t work the way I used to. She thought I could use the money. I thought maybe there would come a time when she would take them back.”
Kate looked to Marcus. “Would it be possible for us to see them?”
“Of course. They’re at my apartment. But there is something else you need to know.”
“What is that?”
M. Laurent stopped. “Chad gave me an envelope a few weeks ago. He told me if anything happened to him, I needed to open it.”
“Do you still have that envelope, M. Laurent?” Marcus asked.
“Yes, but I just... I never expected to have to open it.”
Kate felt a shiver of fear creep up her spine, praying that whatever Chad had wanted to tell his father from beyond the grave would help them save Sophie.