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 were 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.