Ian and Skyler had their backs toward me, Ryan was facing me, but since I had no idea if he’d seen me or not, I had to act as if he hadn’t. Had to assume that Ryan thought he was alone. And Ryan was nearing desperation. Was maybe there already, and desperate people did . . .

My mouth went dry.

No. Nothing bad would happen to Ryan. He’d be fine. This would work out. Everything would—

“Both of you here for the sculpture?” Ryan asked.

Ian had been standing with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slouched. At Ryan’s question, every muscle seemed to freeze in place. Even the bright red hair on his head appeared frozen.

I felt my own body stiffen. Was Ian about to attack Ryan? Was he about to steal the Conti, the one that didn’t exist? I pulled my phone out of my coat pocket and thumbed it on, getting ready to call 911, until I looked down. No bars. Absolutely zero reception.

Grimly, I put the useless communication device back in my pocket.

Skyler Ellison, still wearing the lime green shoes, turned to look at Ian. “Thought you said you were here to fish.”

Ian shrugged. “I fish here sometimes. Just not today.”

There was a long pause during which no one said anything. It felt possible that the four of us, that group of three and me off to the side, might have stayed stuck in that formation forever, waiting for someone to speak, waiting for . . . something. And we might have done so, except something happened.

Crack!

A tree branch plummeted down and hit the ground close to the men. All of us jumped.

“Whoa, that was close.” Skyler laughed nervously.

Ian, his hands still in his pockets, glanced at the branch. The very big branch. “Widow-maker,” he said. “It could have killed us. Easy.”

Three sets of male eyes took stock of one another. A fourth set of eyes, my female ones, watched them.

“Anyway,” Skyler said, and his tone had an impatient edge to it. “If you have a Conti, I want to see it. If you have provenance, great. If not”—he shrugged—“my price drops. Either way, I want to see it.”

Ryan looked at Ian. “You want to see it, too?”

“Well . . .” Ian scuffed the ground with the heel of one of his well-worn work boots. “What I was mainly hoping for was a deal. But sounds like you”—he gave Skyler a lopsided smile—“want this a lot more than I do.”

Skyler didn’t say anything, almost seeming like he was waiting for something. Finally, he said, “If it’s a Conti, I’ll give a lot for it.”

This time the impatient edge was gone, but something else had taken its place. Something harder. Something darker.