Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I rubbed my temples, all the relaxation and peace from my time away with Sofia gone. I felt a slight headache coming on. This was a huge disaster, and it was going to take time to figure it all out.
Not what I needed right now.
I touched base with Leo, pleased there was nothing new or odd happening. No Alex sightings, no notes, nothing. I checked the camera footage from the apartment and the gym, finding zero. Sadly, the cameras had been off in the main part of the gym when the break happened. Once the gym closed, they shut down overnight. I would have to change that once I made a decision about the building.
In the meantime, I wasn’t stupid enough to think Ivan had given up, but I was hopeful. Maybe he’d found someone else to blow up his building.
Without Sofia beside me, I was restless and didn’t sleep well. The next morning, I headed to Elite. Leo and I talked business for a while, then I got all my instructions for the next day. I had looked into Roman Brock, finding little. He was wealthy, rarely photographed. There were a few pictures of him with his family, but they were blurry. He obviously guarded his privacy well. I still didn’t understand his request. Something felt strange, but I had nothing to go on, and the job was booked.
My phone rang, and I saw Carmen from the gallery’s name show up on the screen.
“Hello, Carmen,” I greeted her.
Her voice was raspy. “Egan,” she began, then cleared her throat.
“What’s wrong?”
“We had a fire this morning.”
I stood. “I’m on my way.”
The gallery was only a few blocks from Elite, so I ran, stopping in shock in front of the small building that used to contain the gallery. All that was left was a smoldering pile of ash and debris and some walls that looked as if they would crumble at any given moment. The buildings on either side of it were also destroyed. Firefighters and police were working, dousing the flames and keeping the crowd under control. Hoses were running, the sound of the water reminding me of the gym and the broken pipe.
I found Carmen, hugging her hard. “Are you all right?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, none of her usual confidence evident. Her face was soot-streaked, and she reeked of smoke.
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Next door. The manager was badly injured. I was at the front of the gallery when it happened. He was apparently in his stockroom and was close to the area. The force of the blasts blew through all the buildings.”
“What happened exactly?”
“They think a gas leak. They’ve been doing work on the streets around us.” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “All that beautiful art.”
I thought of the canvases I had in the building. The new ones I had dropped off. All the sculptures and glass the building contained. The other paintings and works of art. A fortune, gone in a second.
“It can be recreated. As long as you’re okay,” I murmured comfortingly.
I looked back at the burning rubble. I met the eyes of a police officer, who came over. “Mr. Vulpe?”
I shook his hand, recognizing him from yesterday at the gym. “Officer Whyte.”
“Is this your building too?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I had some artwork in the gallery.”
“Hell of a coincidence. Not your week,” he said. “But it’s a good thing it wasn’t a weekend or the street wasn’t busier. It could have been a lot worse.”
He went back to his task, and Carmen looked at me curiously. I explained about the burst pipe in the gym and the damage. She laid her hand on my arm. “Egan, I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “I am too, but I’m more grateful no one was injured. Equipment and art can be replaced.” Officer Whyte was right. If it had been the weekend, the street would have been swarming with people. The casualties could have been great. The same if the water had set off an electrical fire. The devastation would have been total.
I couldn’t stop the shudder that ran down my spine at the thoughts. Or the unease that settled into my mind. Were the two incidents really a coincidence?
My gut told me no.
“Egan,” Sofia murmured, hugging me tightly. “How awful.”
She sat back, picking up her coffee. She sipped it, watching me. “Are you okay? That is so much to think about. The gym, the gallery…”
I finished my coffee and set the empty mug on the table. “I’m fine. Upset about the losses, but that’s why I have insurance.” I crossed my legs. “There was a similar incident when I first opened the gym. The ceiling upstairs in my office collapsed. One of the tenants hadn’t reported a leaking toilet and it weakened the floorboards, and the contents of the washroom ended up in my office.” I laughed as I recalled the mess. “Right then, I upped my insurance. Never thought I’d need it, but here we are.” I sighed. “The danger of old buildings. The gas leak, though? Horrible anytime, but the timing is just ironic. One right after another.”