She could hear Patrick’s huff of disapproval from across the room.
Raven turned to look at the archivist, but she seemed preoccupied by her own work.
Raven’s phone chimed again.
You need to be more careful.
She couldn’t disagree. She was about to type a suitably contrite response when the telephone on the archivist’s desk rang.
As if in slow motion, she turned around.
The archivist was nodding and agreeing to something. When she finished her short conversation, she waved Raven over.
Raven walked to her desk, slowly.
“Dottor Vitali wishes to see you in his office. Now.” The archivist’s tone was brisk. “Make note of where you left off in your project and log out of your computer.”
I am in so much trouble.
Raven ground her teeth as she returned to her desk. With a few short mouse clicks, she logged out of her computer. She took a clean piece of paper and listed what she’d accomplished that morning.
She picked up her knapsack and handed the paper to the archivist.
“Raven, wait,” Patrick called to her.
He walked her to the door.
“Hand me the flash drive,” he whispered, holding his hand out.
“What?”
“So they can see us.” His eyes flickered to the side, where one of the cameras was positioned in full view of the door.
She shook her head. “You’ll get in trouble.”
“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.