The Raven (The Florentine 1)

“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.