His eyes met hers. “How do I know you didn’t kidnap Raven and steal her watch?”
She rolled her eyes. “Listen to yourself. I’m not important. Who would want to kidnap me?”
“That isn’t true.” His expression grew fierce. “Raven is someone to me. She’s important to me.”
She paused, tamping down her emotions so she could focus on finding something that would prove her identity.
“Remember when you lost the copies of the radiographs of Primavera? And Dottor Vitali kept asking for them? I’m the one who put them in the bottom drawer of your desk.”
Patrick shook his head. “I didn’t lose the radiographs.”
She smiled gently. “Yes, you did. You left them in the archives’ reading room. I found them and put them in your desk so you wouldn’t get in trouble.”
Patrick stared, a look of incredulous fascination on his face.
“I didn’t tell anyone about that.”
“I know.”
His expression slowly morphed from shock into concern.
“Raven?” he whispered, staring at her intently.
She nodded.
He lifted a hand to her face. “What did you do to yourself?”
She blinked and turned away, unable to meet his gaze.
Patrick dropped his hand quickly and looked around, noticing they had attracted the attention of one of the carabinieri, who was watching them from behind dark sunglasses.
“We need to get out of here.” He grabbed Raven’s arm. “Where’s your cane?”
“I don’t need it anymore.”
“That’s not funny.” Patrick gave her a furious look.
Raven lifted her now uninjured leg and quickly demonstrated her range of movement.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath, his eyebrows lifting. “What the hell is going on?”
Before Raven had time to venture an answer, the Carabinieri officer began walking toward them. Patrick pulled her around the corner and out of sight.
When they were several feet away, Raven planted her feet. “What about work? We’re going to be late.”
Patrick handed back her identification card. “I’m late every day because of the police. We have to go through a special security check before they let us in.”
“Are the police here because of the illustrations?”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Of course.”
“When were they stolen?”
Patrick stared.
When she didn’t say anything further, he rubbed his eyes. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
He exhaled loudly. “If you were in trouble, you’d tell me, right?”
“I’m not in any trouble.”
“Are you kidding? I’m one of your best friends and I didn’t recognize you.” He cursed. “You don’t need your cane. And you disappeared right after the biggest robbery in Uffizi history.”
“What?” Raven practically shrieked, dropping her knapsack in surprise.
“Sssh!” Patrick gave her a furious look. “Do you want a half dozen carabinieri and God knows how many Interpol agents over here? Keep your voice down.”
He quickly stepped away, looking in the direction of the Uffizi, before dragging her and her knapsack closer to the Ponte Vecchio.
“When did the robbery happen?” Raven asked, her mind almost numb with shock.
“The night of Gina’s party.”
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.”