Chapter 30
Isabelle talked to all the models by the dressing rooms, sidestepping hers for fear that Hannah would try to force her into her next outfit. Isabelle was done with this show, and all she cared about now was stopping Kyle Adams from getting away with theft, fraud, and possibly kidnapping and murder.
Her blood ran cold, and a prayer circled through her head that they would find Marit safe.
Isabelle poked her head between the curtains of the last dressing stall, which the new models were sharing. Several dresses hung on the rack that lined one side of the curtain to her left. Her eyes narrowed. The one in front was one she had seen at the rehearsal for Ralph’s show. She stepped deeper into the empty stall and pushed the dress aside. The one behind it also belonged to Ralph Molenaar’s collection. She checked the other two dresses, both of them familiar.
Isabelle snatched all four dresses off the rack. These were supposed to be in the finale for Ralph’s shows. She may not have found Marit yet, but she could at least prevent Adams from claiming these few gowns.
Cautiously, Isabelle peeked through the curtains. Two assistants waited just outside, their attention on the curtains near the end of the runway. Hannah approached them, a frantic look on her face. No doubt, she was looking for Isabelle.
Isabelle stepped out of the dressing stall and headed away from the runway entrance, using the dressing rooms to hide her from view.
She scanned the area for a place to hide the dresses as well as for anywhere she and Lars may have missed where Marit could be tucked away. They had looked in every dressing room, shipping container, and stylist station in the backstage area without luck. Cole was right. They needed to expand their search.
Isabelle strode to the heavy black curtains that hung off the partitions that created the backstage area. Shifting the gowns over one arm, she bent down and lifted the closest curtain. She then stepped behind it, the heavy fabric trapping her between it and the partition.
Ready to rid herself of the burden of the dresses, she reached up and hooked the hangers over the top of the partition. With the wall directly behind it, the tops of the hangers should remain hidden from view, and the curtains would keep them invisible to anyone in the backstage area.
Invisible. Could Marit be as close as the space between the curtains and partitions? Placing one hand on the partition, Isabelle moved steadily forward.
***
Cole’s phone call to Capitaine Dupont had revealed that the capitaine and Brigadier Blanchet were still fighting their way through traffic from across town, and now Cole had to deal with a group of security guards who were more concerned about crowd control and protecting clothing than they were about finding Marit.
Cole balled his hands into fists and stepped closer to the head of security. “Did you not understand what I said? A woman is missing. It’s possible the man responsible for a murder last week is to blame.”
“I understand, monsieur, and we will look into it as soon as we can.”
As soon as they could. This was why Cole preferred to take care of matters himself.
Impatient, he motioned to the surveillance cameras. “All I’m asking is for you to review the security feed from 18:45 to 19:10. Marit disappeared sometime during that window, probably closer to the beginning of it. And I need some security guards to help us look.”
“I don’t have enough staff to search, not while the show is going on, but we’ll check with our guards to see if anyone saw anything unusual.”
“But—”
Before Cole could voice his objection, the security chief added, “I’ll put a man on the surveillance feed.” He called out to a man at the bank of screens and spoke in French. The man nodded and moved to a computer station at the end of the long desk.
Satisfied that his orders had been followed, the head of security turned back to Cole. “Marquis will conduct a search.”
Even though Cole wanted far more assistance than he was getting, he said, “ Merci .” He eyed the bank of screens on the wall. “How many cameras do you have near the fashion shows?”
“Fourteen.”
Fourteen. Even using fast-forward, this could take a while. “Let me give you my phone number.” After the security chief handed him a piece of paper and a pen, he jotted it down. “I’m going to help my friends with the search.”
“I’ll call you if my people find anything.”
Cole nodded and left the security office. He pulled out his phone and dialed Capitaine Dupont’s number.
The man answered a moment later.
Cole identified himself and asked, “How close are you?”
“We’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Hurry. We still haven’t found Marit Jansen.”
“We’re on our way.”