Chapter 55

  

The kindly librarian’s lifeless body was loaded into the ambulance.

Had he come here on his own in the night in search of Lazzaro’s hidden grotto and fallen off a rock in the darkness? He might have pieced something together with his historical knowledge and what Niccolò and I had told him.

But Orazio hadn’t seemed like a careless man. Nor was he particularly interested in what I’d been seeking at the library. It seemed more likely that Francesco forced the old librarian here to use his knowledge, thinking Orazio would be able to read the map in the missing notebook.

I called Lane, but his phone went straight to voicemail. So did Mahilan’s. They must have already arrived at the police station.

The police officer in the Park of Monsters parking lot continued to gesture at me. This time, I’m fairly certain he wanted me to leave. I was happy to oblige.

My hands shook as I steered the car out of the parking lot, away from the stone monsters that had claimed the librarian’s life. Poor Orazio. He’d been so friendly and eager to help. Lazzaro Allegri’s treasure had taken another life.

I didn’t know where I was heading. I had no idea where Lane and my brother were, and didn’t have the Italian to find out. While Lane and Mahilan sorted out Francesco with the police, there was only one thing I knew I could do.

  

I held up the sketchbook to the landscape in front of me, double-checking that this was the right spot.

Centuries of overgrowth had changed the details of the cypress, pine, and chestnut trees, but a violin-shaped boulder at the edge of a rocky hillside was unmistakable. This was it. Somewhere right here I would find Lazzaro Allegri’s art studio, where he painted in secret after returning from India in disgrace.

I traced my hand along the rock. I could see the inlet where centuries of rainwater had smoothed it into the violin shape. As my fingers felt the alternatingly smooth and rough surface that Lazzaro’s hands had touched four hundred and fifty years before me, his secret spoke to me.

My breath caught as I found a piece of rock that wasn’t connected to the rest. A lever that had been smoothed by centuries of rainwater. The map had also been difficult for Francesco to follow because even if he’d passed this very spot, if he didn’t know he was looking for a hidden lever he never would have seen this.

I laughed out loud. “Lazzaro Allegri’s ghost!”

Should I go to the main house and get Enzo and Brunella to share the discovery with them? No, I wasn’t sure yet that I was right.

There was something else that wasn’t right about this whole situation.

A twig snapped behind me. I was suddenly very aware that I was in the middle of an overgrown forest, following a secret path only known in a five-centuries-old notebook.

“Lane?” I called. Had he caught up with me already?

A gaunt figure stepped out of the shadow of a tree.

“Enzo,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “You startled me. I’m so sorry, I know I’m on your land. I should have come to see you first, but I was going to come see you as soon as I found…” There was something in his face that made my voice falter.

“No need to apologize,” Enzo said with a smile. His eyes were bloodshot and dark circles hung under them. “This is fantastico. You found it. I thank you for finding Lazarro’s studio.”

Though the words themselves were friendly, my senses screamed at me. I’d made a grave mistake. I thought I was safe on my own because the ghost, Francesco, was in custody. But Francesco hadn’t confessed. He’d gotten scared and tried to run.

“Why don’t we go get help before we open the lever that leads to the grotto?” I said to Enzo. “We don’t know if it’s dangerous inside after all these years.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish it had not come to this.”

A knife gleamed in his hand.