He caught her hand in his and pressed his phone into her palm. “Let me fetch my tools.” He didn’t give her time to answer but simply ducked back out of the dressing room and reappeared a half minute later with his bag.

“Hold the light over my shoulder,” he instructed as he got down on his hands and knees to study the gap along the floor.

“Does this sort of thing happen to you often?” Lia asked weakly. “Secret rooms and whatnot?”

“First time.” His answer was muffled as he worked a flat bar beneath the left panel.

She crouched down beside him, feeling the warmth of his body against her bare arms. His presence was comforting. “What if—”

There was a quiet snap, and the edge of the panel abruptly released. “Ah. It just slides.”

They both got to their feet, and Gabriel slipped his fingers under the seam. He glanced at Lia with an unspoken question, waiting until she nodded before he pulled the panel free.

Lia put a hand out to steady herself, and her stomach plummeted as the beam of the flashlight exposed a hidden space—an extension of the dressing room—just as Gabriel had suggested. And inside, stacked upright on the floor and on a single shelf above that spanned the space, were dozens of paintings in a wide range of sizes. These had been removed from their frames, apparently for storage. Parts of the larger canvases were visible, and Lia could see that they were Expressionist and Impressionist works. A complete departure from what hung on the apartment walls.

Gabriel slid the second panel free and set it down behind them with the first. In the additional light, the hoard looked even more extensive.

“Oh God, Grandmère, what did you do?” Lia whispered.

“Don’t think the worst,” Gabriel said quietly, rejoining her.

“How can I not?” She looked up at him, the backs of her eyes burning. “Why else would a woman who received a goddamn thank-you note from Hermann Göring have a hidden hoard of art if it wasn’t stolen?” She thrust the phone back at Gabriel and spun, hurrying out of the dressing room and every horrible secret in it. She stopped in front of the wardrobe, trying to settle the despair and distress that were constricting her chest and making it hard to breathe.

“Lia.”

She hadn’t heard him follow her out. “I’m sorry. This is all…it’s just…” She tried to put her thoughts in order. “It’s horrifying. And unforgivable.”

“Hey.” He caught her hand in his for the second time and gently pulled her around. “Whatever this is, whatever your grandmother may or may not have done, it has nothing to do with you. You did not do this. If the worst turns out to be the truth, it is not your fault. Do you understand?”