“You’re already in trouble.” He lifted his hand higher.
Raven looked over at the archivist, who was watching them intently.
“This is your job, Patrick.”
“A job I have because you covered my ass when I forgot to file the radiographs. Now we’re even.” He moved his hand in front of her nose. “Give me the flash drive.”
Raven muttered a curse and unzipped the pocket of her knapsack. She retrieved the flash drive and handed it to him.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” His voice was loud, too loud, and the archivist hushed them once again.
He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Tell Vitali I asked you to copy the files. If they confiscate the drive, I’ll help you get the files another way.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Raven gave him a worried look before exiting the archives.
“So do I.” He grimaced.
As Raven climbed the stairs to the second floor, she contemplated an alternative explanation, one that would exonerate Patrick. Nothing came readily to mind. She couldn’t even mention William York and his connection with Palazzo Riccardi.
Raven would never allow someone she cared about to be hurt. This was the core of her being. She’d made a mistake; she would take responsibility for it, even if it meant losing her position at the gallery.
She gave herself a short pep talk and approached Vitali’s office just as a loud female voice, speaking English, echoed down the corridor.
“Codswallop! I’ve been wandering the streets of Florence since before you were born. Clare and I will be fine for a couple of hours.”
Raven stood outside the open door, her palms sweating. She wiped them on her yoga pants.
“Katherine, the city isn’t safe.” Professor Emerson sounded exasperated.
“I don’t believe that for one moment,” the woman replied.
Taking a deep breath, Raven knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Vitali called, in Italian.
She entered the room and found the Emersons talking with an older woman who had short white hair and snapping blue-gray eyes. She was pushing a stroller in which Clare was seated, playing with a toy bunny and oblivious to the tension around her.
“Julianne can take her tour, you can discuss your situation with Vitali, and I’ll take the baby for a walk. It’s a beautiful day. She needs fresh air.” The woman wheeled the stroller around and headed for the door.
“No.” Professor Emerson’s voice boomed.
Everyone stared—at his sapphire eyes that blazed behind blackframed glasses, at his hands that were clenched into fists at his sides, and at his expression, which was frightening.
But Professor Emerson wasn’t angry, although he’d adopted an angry posture.
Raven scanned his expression and was surprised to see fear behind his eyes.
“Katherine, it isn’t safe. I can barely stand to have you, Clare, and Julianne out of my sight.”
His eyes moved to his wife and he addressed her. “You can take your tour. But Katherine and Clare must stay inside the gallery.”
His wife grasped his elbow and he unclenched his fists, his body relaxing.
Marginally.
“It’s all right, Gabriel. We’re safe now.” She gave him a smile, which he did not return.
“And you will remain so.”
Raven wiped her hands on her pants again and studied her feet.
She’d intruded on something she didn’t understand, a private conversation between a protective husband and father and his family. She found herself strangely moved by his intensity. It had been a long time since someone had been protective of her. It had been a long time since she’d had a father.
“We can walk indoors.” The woman referred to as Katherine turned toward Vitali. “Perhaps you’ll assign us a guide. Would that be acceptable, Gabriel?”
It seemed clear from her tone that she was annoyed, but she seemed determined not to argue with him.
Raven lifted her eyes and saw Gabriel nodding in a restrained manner.
“Then it’s settled. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to find us a guide, I’ll take Clare for a walk.” Katherine gave Vitali an expectant look, almost as if he were a concierge rather than the director of the Uffizi Gallery.
Raven half expected Katherine to begin tapping her conservatively shod foot.
Vitali motioned Raven forward.
“Mrs. Emerson would like a tour of the restoration lab. Please escort her downstairs and introduce her to Professor Urbano. He’s expecting her.”
Raven blinked.
Vitali’s eyes narrowed. “Miss Wood?”
Raven’s anxieties at being summoned to the director’s office because she’d copied files without permission began to lessen.
She cleared her throat. “A tour? Yes, of course. Of course. Thank you.”
She paused, wondering if he was going to bring up the flash drive or mention anything about the robbery. She wondered if news of her mid-night visit to Palazzo Riccardi had somehow come to his attention.
Vitali sat back in his chair and lifted the telephone, requesting that his assistant send one of the security guards to his office, that an important guest needed an escort.
Raven exhaled in relief.
Julia kissed her husband, patting him on the shoulder, before retrieving her purse and moving to Raven’s side. Gabriel followed his wife’s movements with a look of concern, his long fingers curving into fists once again.
With a nod, Vitali dismissed Raven, announcing that Katherine’s guide would appear momentarily.
Raven was not about to delay and so led Julia to the hall. Julia trailed behind her, limping.
Raven stopped. “Are you hurt?”
“Not really. When I had Clare, I had an epidural. I’ve had nerve issues in my right leg and foot ever since. It’s acting up today.” She forced a smile, but appeared distressed.
Raven moved closer, noticing that Julia was wearing flat, comfortable shoes.
“Should I get a wheelchair?”
“It isn’t that bad. Today my foot is numb so I’m having trouble walking.”
“I’m sorry.” Raven’s expression was sympathetic. “I broke my leg once. There was nerve damage. Whenever the weather changes, I have pain.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Julia started walking again, slowly. “I’m lucky my leg only acts up periodically. I’m told the numbness will go away eventually.”
“We’ll take the elevator.” Raven gestured to the far end of the hall.
“I know it’s short notice, but I wanted to see the restoration work before we left.” Julia spoke in low tones as they passed a few people in the hallway.
“No problem.” Raven watched her from the corner of her eye. “I thought you were staying in Florence for a week.”
“Our plans have changed.” Julia’s expression grew grave. “We’re checking out of the hotel this afternoon and going to Umbria.”
“Umbria is beautiful.”
Raven was distracted, thinking about what had occurred in the archives. It was possible the security guards hadn’t noticed what she’d done. Maybe she’d implicated Patrick for no reason. She’d have to warn him.
“Have you heard any rumors about the Gallery Hotel Art being haunted?” Julia’s voice intruded on Raven’s thoughts.
She turned her head to meet Julia’s eyes. “Haunted? No. I always thought it was peculiar their restaurant served Japanese food, but I haven’t heard anything about the hotel being haunted. Why do you ask?”
Julia fidgeted with her purse strap. “This is going to sound strange, but my husband thinks there’s a ghost in the hotel. That’s why we’re leaving.”
Raven’s eyebrows shot up. “A ghost? Why does he think that?”
“He woke up last night convinced someone was in our room. He couldn’t see anything but he felt a . . . dark presence.”
Raven’s heart began to speed.
“Did someo
ne break in?”
“I don’t think so. Nothing was missing and he didn’t see anyone. But he felt like someone was there and the doors to the terrace were open.” Julia smoothed her long hair behind her ears. “If it were anyone other than Gabriel, I’d dismiss it. But he’s seen—and felt—strange things before.”
Raven bit her tongue. She desperately wanted to ask Julia what strange things she was referring to, but she was an important donor and barely an acquaintance. Raven didn’t want to seem nosy.
“I don’t believe in ghosts. But it’s possible someone broke into your hotel room. Petty thefts are common in the city and, as you know, that hotel attracts wealthy guests.”
“I suppose that’s possible.”
“I hate to say it, but I’m wondering if the Uffizi robbery is connected to what happened in your room.”
Julia eyed Raven as they entered the elevator. “Why would you say that?”
“Your names are connected with the gallery. If someone found out you were staying in the city, they might think you’re carrying expensive jewelery or artifacts.”
“That makes sense. I’m not in a hurry to stay in the same hotel room, even if it was a burglar. This makes me sad because we stayed in that room before.” Julia appeared wistful.
“Did your husband mention the break-in to Vitali?”
“Yes. He didn’t mention the ghost to anyone. He simply said he had security concerns about the hotel, and he cited some recent reports in the newspaper about missing people and bodies being found downriver.” Julia shivered. “I wish he hadn’t told me.”
Raven toyed with the security card around her neck, resisting the urge to touch the relic she was wearing under her shirt.
“I hadn’t heard about the bodies.”
“There was an article in La Nazione yesterday. Several bodies were found on the banks of the Arno. The police aren’t releasing any details.”
“Men or women?” Raven’s mind went immediately to Angelo.
“Men.” Julia took a step closer. “Are you all right? You’ve gone pale.”
“I’m fine. I hate to mention it, but since you’re leaving anyway, I’ll say that Florence had a serial killer for decades. I hope he hasn’t returned.” She exited the elevator, holding the door open for Julia.
“I thought they caught him.” Julia followed her into the hall.
“I thought so, too.”
Julia sighed. “Our trip to Umbria has poor timing. We’re thinking about adopting a little girl from the Franciscan orphanage and we were supposed to be spending time with her.”
Raven stopped. “I volunteer there. Which girl?”
Julia smiled widely. “Maria. She’s five.”
Raven’s heart leapt. “I know Maria. You’re going to adopt her?”
“We’re thinking about it. We can’t apply to adopt her until we’ve been married for three years and that isn’t until January. But we want to get to know her and have her know us. When we first met her two years ago, she didn’t speak. But she’s been seeing a therapist and is talking now.”
“I help the younger children learn their letters and their numbers. I work with her.”
Julia placed a hand on Raven’s arm. “Then thank you. She’s very different from the girl we met two years ago.”
Raven found herself unable to respond. She swallowed, trying to rid herself of the lump she felt in her throat.
“You’re welcome,” she managed to say.
Julianne gave her a wide smile and followed her down the long corridor that led to the large restoration lab.
Before they entered, Raven paused.
She felt like she should mention the intruder who broke into her apartment, but she was worried about the repercussions. Nevertheless, Julia had a baby. What if the intruder broke in where they were staying in Umbria, and they were hurt?
She cleared her throat. “I hope there isn’t a connection between what happened at the hotel and the robbery here. But you should be cautious, even in Umbria. Whoever stole the illustrations did so without leaving evidence. As far as I know, the police don’t have any suspects. Please be careful.”
“I will.” Julia offered her an appreciative look before they opened the door to the lab.
The morning came and went. Raven continued her work in the archives and no one mentioned the flash drive. In fact, the archivist seemed all too eager to let Raven leave at lunchtime, in order to visit the doctor.
Raven’s doctor was stunned at her sudden transformation. A series of X-rays was scheduled after the appointment, so the doctor could learn what had happened to Raven’s leg.
Blood and urine were sampled in order to test for any drugs. But the doctor warned her that even if she had been drugged, the drugs might not be in her system. It depended on when she was drugged and what she’d been given. Rohypnol, for example, showed up in urine tests no more than sixty hours after ingestion.
Having been x-rayed and tested, Raven grabbed a quick lunch at a café before returning to the gallery.
She was dismayed to see Ispettor Batelli at the entrance. He eyed his watch, then turned to her with more than a modicum of distaste.
“A long lunch, signorina?” He sounded contemptuous.
“I’m working in the archives and the archivist gave me permission to see my doctor.”
“Interesting,” the inspector said. “Is there anything you’d like to share with me about your visit?”
“No.”
Raven brushed past him, but she could feel his eyes on her as she retreated.
Working in the archives was not that interesting. Patrick returned the flash drive while they were standing in the hall, away from the security cameras. She hid it in her knapsack.
“Nice hardware.” He gestured to the crucifix around her neck.
Raven glanced down at the relic. She’d forgotten she was wearing it.
“Oh, this.” She lifted it and looked at it for a moment.
He gave her a questioning look. “May I?”
“Sure.”
He examined the cross more closely, looking at the raised figure in the sunlight that streamed in from one of the windows. “This is really old. Where did you get it?”
“A friend.”
He released the cross into her hand.
“Must be some friend. It looks like a museum piece.”
Raven moved the necklace so that it was hidden under her shirt.
Patrick dropped his voice. “I wouldn’t let the carabinieri see you wearing that.”
“Why not?”
“They’d probably confiscate it and run the image through the Interpol database, trying to figure out if it’s stolen.”
“It isn’t stolen.” She sounded indignant.
“Speaking of which . . .”
At that moment, Ispettor Batelli walked by with Agent Savola. Both men stared at Raven and Patrick before continuing down the hall.
Patrick shook his head. “Try to keep a low profile, okay? We’ll talk more at Gina’s tonight.”
Raven gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”
He ruffled her hair. “When do I get to meet the boyfriend who’s giving you museum pieces?”
She rolled her eyes. “After I meet him.”
Patrick laughed and accompanied her back into the archives.
After work, they went to the mechanic’s shop to pick up her Vespa.
Patrick went home to Gina, and Raven went to one of the shopping areas near the Duomo. One could buy Prada and Salvatore Ferragamo over by the Ponte Santa Trinita, but Raven’s fellowship didn’t afford her that kind of budget.
She’d worn old yoga pants two days in a row because none of her other clothing fit. She had to buy new clothes for work, as well as underwear and pajamas.
It was more exciting than she could have imagined.
Raven detested shopping. Her weight and the European sizing system conspired against her. It was difficult to find clothes that fit, and when she did, they we
re always expensive. Not so now.
Owing to her smaller size, she was able to buy clothes off the rack and quickly spent several hundred euros on the essentials. She even bought a few pieces of lingerie.
By the end of her shopping spree, she was dressed in a black linen sundress, a pale yellow cardigan, black wedge-heeled sandals, and extremely attractive pink underwear. She even bought a pair of large black sunglasses.
She threw her old clothes in the garbage.
The relic was not so easily hidden by the sundress and cardigan as it had been by her large button-down shirt.
She toyed with the idea of placing the necklace in her knapsack, but the intruder had been adamant she wear it. Given the strange events that had befallen the Emersons, and the reports of bodies found near the Arno, she decided that trading on someone else’s superstitions wouldn’t really harm anyone.
She bought a floral silk scarf and wound it around her neck in such a way as to cover the chain and cross, hoping no one would notice it.
Looking very chic and feeling more confident than she had ever felt, she bought a few groceries and a bottle of wine to take to dinner. Having deposited her purchases safely in her apartment, she drove the Vespa to Gina’s, very much looking forward to a relaxing evening with friends.
By the time Raven left her friends, it was after eleven. Their dinner had extended to drinks and dessert and an evening of conversation and music.
The skies had opened, pouring rain. As usual, there were still a few pedestrians and drivers on the slick streets. Everyone else had retreated indoors.
Or so it seemed.
Raven was glad she kept a long raincoat under the seat of her Vespa. She wore it as she drove, wincing at every drop of water that fell on her new sandals.
When she arrived at Santo Spirito, she discovered the piazza was empty.
Usually patrons sat outside the bar across from her apartment or at one of the cafés. The square itself was often filled with students. Several American universities had study-abroad programs that were housed nearby. But since the rain was falling heavily, the emptiness of the piazza was unsurprising.
She parked her Vespa and had just returned her helmet to the storage space beneath the seat when she heard something. The sound itself was strange, a cross between a growl and a roar.