Raven pressed her hand to her forehead. She remembered Gina’s party. She remembered talking to Patrick about a ride home. After that, the evening was a blur.
She squinted in the sunlight. “How did the thieves get past the security systems?”
“No one knows. None of the alarms were tripped. They didn’t find so much as a fingerprint. The special agents think it must have been an inside job, which is why they’ve been interrogating us. I’ve been interviewed three times.”
“But who would do such a thing? Everyone we work with has a clean record.”
Patrick’s expression grew guarded.
“Raven, they’ve been looking for you. You’ve been gone over a week and no one knew where you were.”
“A week?” she squeaked, eyes wide.
“Gina’s party was the seventeenth. Today is the twenty-seventh. You didn’t come to work last week at all. We thought you were sick. I texted you and sent e-mails, and Professor Urbano called your cell phone, but you didn’t answer. I was pretty worried so Gina and I stopped by last Wednesday. One of your neighbors said he hadn’t seen you in days. We reported you missing to the police and the American consulate.”
Before Raven could respond, the Carabinieri officer suddenly appeared, flanked by two others.
“Do you work at the museum?” He addressed Patrick sternly.
Patrick’s gaze flickered to Raven’s. “Yes.”
“Identification, please.” The officer held out his hand expectantly.
Patrick gave him his Uffizi identification card. The man examined it carefully before returning it.
His attention shifted to Raven.
“And you?”
She nodded and handed him her identification.
The officer looked at the photograph and then he looked at Raven. He removed his sunglasses, folding them and placing them in one of the pockets of his uniform.
His eyes bored into hers. “You don’t look like the photograph.”
Raven shrugged. “That’s me.”
The officer peered at her thoughtfully before turning his gaze on Patrick. Patrick shifted his weight from foot to foot.
“You know this woman?” The officer gestured to Raven.
Patrick hesitated and Raven’s heart began to pound.
He moved to stand closer to her. “Yes, we work together.”
Raven tried not to melt with relief at Patrick’s show of support.
The officer’s attention snapped back to her. “Your identification says that you work for the Opificio delle Pietre Dure.”
“I do. But I’ve been seconded to the Uffizi and that’s stated on the card as well.” She pointed to the identification he was still holding.
“Dottoressa Wood, come with me.”
“She’s an American.” Patrick stepped forward. “You can’t just take her.”
The officer measured Patrick for a moment.
“We aren’t taking her. We’re accompanying her to the police station so we can interview her, just as we interviewed the other Uffizi employees.”
Patrick grabbed Raven’s arm, stopping her. “You interviewed the other employees at the gallery, not the police station. She isn’t going anywhere with you.”
“This isn’t an interrogation or an arrest, it’s simply an interview. I’m sure Dottoressa Wood wants to help the investigation.” The officer gave Raven a pointed look.
She blinked, not knowing what to say.
Patrick held his ground, still holding Raven’s arm.
The man cursed and removed something from underneath his jacket, flashing it under Patrick’s nose.
“I am Sergio Batelli, the ispettore from the Carabinieri. She does not have a diplomatic passport and her name is on the list of Uffizi employees. Under Italian civil code, I can acquire information from her at the police station without notifying anyone, especially the Americans. Capisce?
“Perhaps you’d like to be interviewed with her, Signor Wong. Are you lovers? How long have you known one another?”
Patrick cursed and took a step forward, but Raven intervened, placing her hand over his.
“It will be all right. I’ll just go and answer their questions. But please, tell Professor Urbano what’s happening. He’ll be expecting me in the restoration lab.”
Patrick fixed the officer with a look of defiance. “I’ll be notifying Dottor Vitali, the director of the Uffizi, and the American consulate. And I’ll be naming names, Ispettor Batelli.”
The officer shrugged.
“Dottoressa Wood.” He gestured to the street, where a police car had just pulled up to the curb, lights flashing.
Patrick squeezed Raven’s hand before sprinting in the direction of the Uffizi.
“This way.” Batelli’s voice was gruff as he and the other men led Raven to the car.