We stopped in Violet’s room, and she gasped aloud. “That painting is an Ingres.” I looked over her shoulder. “I thought it seemed familiar.” She stepped into the room, turning in a slow circle to look at the rest of it. “Incredible.” In the hallway, she cocked her head. “Where is the rest of the artwork?” “I have asked the same question. No one seems to know. The library is empty too.” She pursed her lips. “Why take all but the paintings in Violet’s room?”
