The picture

I shoved another breadstick into my mouth, chomping down on it with frustration. I pictured Mr. Bastian right now, probably grilling his employees about what I wanted to know. Most likely, he'd tell them to shut their mouths and not breathe a word to me. Bastian's Gallery was a dead end, that much was clear.

My call to the lawyer, Leon Aldrich, half an hour ago hadn't exactly been a ray of sunshine. He'd been grumpy that I hadn't checked in last night, claiming concern for my safety. Sure, I explained about being tired and the bad roads, but deep down I knew the real reason for his bad mood.

Aldrich seemed to be waiting for me to vanish with the hefty cash advance he'd given me and never be seen again. He clearly wasn't a fan of me or my assignment to investigate Viktor Donovan.

I could practically feel his judgment radiating through the phone. He probably thought I was unqualified for the job, but Mr. Greyson, the one paying the bills, had chosen me. The sour look Aldrich sported wh