They stepped into the shop filled with dozens of sculptures on display and art hanging on the walls. As an artist, it was a place where she could easily spend days getting lost in the artwork. But at the moment she needed to focus.
“Buongiorno,” Talia said to the man behind the counter in Italian before switching to English for Joe’s benefit. “I need to speak to Signor De Luca.”
“I’m sorry, but that isn’t possible right now. Signor De Luca is on the phone with a client.”
She tapped her fingers against the counter. Time was running out and she wasn’t in the mood for delays.
Beside her, Joe pulled out his badge, clearly feeling the same urgency she was. “I’m Agent Bryant with the FBI’s art crime team. It’s extremely important that we ask your boss a few questions immediately.”
The man glanced at the badge and nodded. “Of course. I’m sure he will be happy to help the FBI. If you’ll just give me a moment.”
“I should get me one of those badges,” Talia said, as the man slipped through a door into the back. “But in the meantime, you’re not a bad person to have on someone’s side when in a jam.”
“Ha.” Joe let out a low laugh. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind my direct approach, but it’s a method that works. Besides, I figure we don’t have time to mess around with formalities or Signor De Luca’s timetable.”
A minute later an older Italian gentleman with gray hair along his temples stepped up behind the counter. Even in the July heat he wore a button-down shirt and jacket.
Talia stepped forward and laid her hands on the counter. “Signor De Luca, my name is Talia Morello. I was married to Thomas Morello before his death three years ago.”
The older man frowned. “I’m acquainted with your family, and sorry for your loss. But I’m not sure what that has to do with the FBI?”
She motioned to Joe. “This is Agent Joe Bryant. He works with the FBI’s art crime team.”
“How can I help you?”
Joe glanced at Signor De Luca’s colleague. “Could we speak in private?”
“Of course. Why don’t you follow me to my office.”
A moment later they were standing in a cluttered office filled with an overflow of artwork, piles of papers and books and a clearly antiquated filing system.
“I understand that Thomas’s brother, Marco, sent you some photographs of some paintings to appraise,” Talia said, once the older man had closed the door behind them.
“He asked me if they might be worth any money.”
“And what did you tell him?”
The older Italian hesitated. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that any business I do with potential clients is all confidential, including quotes. And I’m still not sure why you’re asking these questions.”
“We’re asking these questions,” she countered, “because people have already died because of those paintings.”
“Died...? I had no idea. I told him that I’d have to see them in person for me to be sure, but if they were real, which they appeared to be from the photo, they were some of Li Fonti’s original paintings and would be worth several million to the right buyer. He said he was going to bring them in this morning, but I haven’t seen him yet.”
Because he’s dead.
And she wasn’t ready to tell him that.
“Are you okay?” Signor De Luca studied Talia’s expression. “What’s really going on?”
“All I can say at this point,” Joe said, “is that some very bad people want to get their hands on those paintings. And they are willing to do whatever it takes to get them.”
“I wish I could help you, but you know as much as I do. Without seeing the paintings in person I can’t be positive, but that’s exactly what I told Marco.”
Talia glanced at Joe. There was nothing more they could do here.
“Thank you for speaking with us, Signor De Luca.”
“You’re welcome, and if you do happen to get your hands on those paintings, I would love to look at them.”
“What was your relationship with Marco and his parents, especially after Thomas’s death?” Joe asked Talia, once they were outside the gallery and heading back toward the vaporetto.
Talia hurried to keep up with him. “What do you mean?”
“Did they blame you at all? Think you were anyway involved in the money he’d been stealing from the apartment?”
She slowed her pace. Small beads of moisture dotted the back of her neck from the rising temperature. She wanted him to ask her if she’d take him on a tour of the city, a romantic boat ride through the canals, or where to buy the best fresh pasta... Anything but this line of questioning.
She swallowed hard. “You mean do they still wonder if I wasn’t involved with what Thomas did? And that I’m showing up now to claim what’s ‘mine’ so I can cash in?”
“I know that’s a tough question, but yes. I think we need to consider everything.”
She bit the inside of her lip. “I don’t think so. I can’t say that we’re extremely close, especially after Thomas’s death, but his family has always been extremely supportive of me. But here’s another thing.” She stopped on the bridge they were crossing and grasped the wrought-iron railing. “It’s still possible that Anna has the paintings.”
“I agree, and if she does, she’s not going to hang around here. She’ll have an exit plan to leave the country, sell them and disappear. Unfortunately at this point there’s no way for us to know for sure.”
“So what do we do now?” she asked. “I feel like we’re at another dead end.”
“We need to find Anna.”
She stared out across the narrow waterway. A boat bobbed in the water that hovered just beneath doorways. She knew he was right, but while part of her wanted to find both the paintings and Anna, the other part of her just wanted to run.
“I never should have brought you with me,” he said, clearly sensing her hesitation. “I thought it would make things easier to find the paintings, but now I’m worried that I’ve put your life in more danger by bringing you here.”
“You’re the one who was shot.” She grasped on to his good arm with her fingertips, then pulled away. “I need to see this through as well, because just like you this is personal. It’s affecting people I care about. I might want to walk away, but I can’t.”
“I just want—need—to keep you safe.”
But even he couldn’t guarantee he could keep her safe.
Her hands trembled and her legs felt weak. Between the heat and the shock of seeing Marco’s body, she felt completely rattled.
Joe brushed a strand of hair out of her face then took her hands. “Your face is pale and your hands are clammy.” He squeezed her hands, then let them go. “Sit down. I’ll go buy you something to drink.”
“I really will be okay, Joe. I’m just shaken. We need to get back to the boat and go talk to the police.”
She started walking again, and tried to ignore the strong pull of emotions swirling through her, and the heat pounding down on her.
“I’m serious, Talia. There’s a bench up ahead and a place where we can get some water,” he said. “You sit down, and I’ll buy us both something cold to drink.”
“I wasn’t even the one who was shot.”
“Don’t worry about me.” He shot her a smile. “I’ve always been tough as nails.”
They walked into the large, open square. She obeyed and sat down at one of the benches while Joe went to get the drinks, close enough to where he could still see her. Even at this time of day, the square was already filling up with tourists. Cafés were setting up their outside tables for the lunch rush with tablecloths and flowers on each table.
A woman sat down next to her.
Talia started to stand up, then stopped when she saw the gun.
Anna.
Her chest started pressing against her lungs. “What do you want from me, Anna?”
“I thought you might recognize me. And at this point, I’m pretty sure you know exactly what I want. In the meantime, though, I’m going to need you to come with me.”
“Forget it.”
She glanced at the gun and frowned. “I’d really hate to have to shoot you, but trust me, I will. It’s not like I have anything to lose.”
“You wouldn’t shoot me. Not with dozens of potential witnesses out there.”
“Do you really want to test me? I can be lost in this crowd in a matter of seconds. Which means you scream or try to get someone’s attention, and I’ll not only shoot you, but one of these nice tourists in this crowd. Or maybe I’ll take a shot at Joe again, and I can promise you, I won’t miss this time.”
She could see the intensity in Anna’s eyes. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. How had she gone from wanting to save people to this?
Talia looked back at Joe, who was paying the cashier. “Where are we going?”
“Does it matter? You think your hero’s going to come to your rescue, don’t you? But I’ve ensured that he’s going to be tied up for a few more minutes.”
Talia felt the knot in her stomach tighten. Anna had everything planed. A backup for anything that went wrong. But she was also desperate. Which gave Talia an advantage. She just had to find a way to play at Anna’s weakness.
“Let’s go.” Anna gripped Talia’s arm. “Now.”
* * *
Joe collected his change from the vender along with the two waters, then turned around and bumped into a woman holding a baby in the process. The woman’s bag dropped to the ground between them.
“Mi perdoni... I’m sorry.”
“No. It was my fault.” He shoved his change into his pocket, then picked up the bag and handed it back to her. He turned to where Talia had been sitting only seconds before.
She was gone.
He dropped the water bottles and started running toward the bench where he’d left her. His heart pounded in his chest as panic set in. How had this happened? She’d been there one moment and the next she’d vanished...
He kept running, ignoring the pain radiating through his arm with each jolting step on the stone walkway. He saw a motorized boat disappearing around the corner of the building. There were dozens of narrow streets and canals crisscrossing their way through the city and he had no idea which way she’d gone.
His phone rang in his pocket. He paused, then answered the unknown number.
“Mr. Bryant. It’s nice to finally talk in person.”
“Anna Hayes.” His stomach clenched. “Where’s Talia?”
“She’s safe. For now. But don’t even bother to try and find us.”
“Just tell me where you are—where Talia is—and end this before someone else gets hurt. We know about Marco, and the local police have your name and description—”
“Your attempts to threaten and intimidate me won’t work. I tried to warn you, but neither of you would listen. It was supposed to be so simple. She was supposed to bring me the paintings, and I was going to disappear.”
“Just let Talia go.”
Joe blew out a sharp breath. He had a feeling the woman couldn’t be reasoned with. And what had Talia had told her? Did she know they hadn’t found the artwork yet?
Whatever the case, this was a game that needed to end.
“I want you to listen very carefully to me,” Anna continued. “I realize now that I went to the wrong person looking for the paintings.”
“So what is she? A hostage?”
“For the moment. And here’s what you’re going to do. Take a flight to Rome, where you’re going to get on the next plane back to the US.”
He kept walking, praying he’d catch sight of them. They couldn’t be that far ahead. Her planned distraction had only lasted a few seconds. But which direction? “You think I’m just going to walk away from her, or even if I do, that the police won’t find you?”
“You will do exactly what I’m saying, unless you want her dead, as well.”
“What’s going to stop you from killing her no matter what I do?”
He tried to mask the desperation in his voice as he kept walking. She had to be out somewhere. Inside an apartment or a shop or lost in a sea of tourists. On the water in one of the boats...
“Let me speak with her before I do anything.”
“Call me from the airport in Rome, and I’ll let you speak to her. And don’t try my patience. You know what happens when you do.”
The call ended.
The waterfront was bustling with tourists taking photos and selfies. There were hundreds of streets, several hundred canals and even more houses and places of business. All of which made hiding from the police—at least temporarily—possible.
Or for all he knew they could be leaving the island now.
Except Anna wasn’t going to do that. Not if she still believed the paintings to still be here. She might not have found what Marco did with them, but she’d stay on the island, and use Talia as her leverage. Which meant she wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was he.
Joe’s phone rang again.
“Esposito,” he said. “Tell me you’ve got something, because we’ve got a problem.”
“I was just checking in with you. What’s wrong?”
“Anna Hayes’s got Talia. She’s trying to use her now as leverage to get those paintings.”
“Where do you think she’s headed?”
“I don’t think she’ll leave the island until she has what she wants. But I also believe she’s running on adrenaline and not thinking clearly. She’s taking too many chances. She’d told me to leave the country, or she’ll kill Talia.”
“I’ll make sure the local police have photos of both women. She’s not going to get away with this. Because if she’s here, we’ll find her.”
“Keep me updated.”
Joe ended the call then put in one of his own to the States. If Anna still had her phone on her, he might have just found a way track her.
A minute later he was connected to a secure FBI line. “This is Agent Joe Bryant. I need a call traced that just came into my phone.”
“Okay, but that’s going to take a few minutes,” a woman said.
“I don’t have time. A woman has been kidnapped, and her life’s in danger.”
“I understand, but I’ll need to put you on hold while I trace the call.”
He could feel the seconds ticking. The Grand Canal lapped alongside the buildings. Boats left a trail of white behind them. A man jumped into a boat next to a line of colorful mooring poles, then pulled at the motor before joining the flow of traffic in the canal. A couple floated past on a gondola. Customers sipped at their coffee and stared out across the water.
But he had no idea where Talia was.
“You still there?”
“I’m still here,” he said. “What have you got?”
“I found her. She’s moving away from your position on the south side of the island.”
Where was she going?
His mind battled for the best option, but as far as he was concerned, he only had one. “I need you to take me to her. Pull up a map of the city and take me on the most direct route.”
“That’s not going to be easy.” He caught the hesitation in her voice.
“Is it doable?”
“Yeah... I think so.”
“Then get me to her. I don’t think she’ll leave the island. Not yet anyway.”
“Okay. I’ve got a map in front of me with your location as well as her cell phone GPS pinpointed on the map.”
Joe stood in the middle of a lake of tourists. Life went on. No one had any idea what was going on. “Which way do I go?”
“Head west...left. There’s a narrow alleyway just ahead of you. When you get to it, turn right.”
He moved out at a fast pace, weaving his way through the tourists who were enthralled with the offerings at the shops. Venetian carnival masks, hand-blown glass filling up the windows.
“Take a left at the next T junction.”
“Do you still have her?”
“She’s still moving down one of the canals. I’ll let you know if she stops.”
A minute later, he was moving away from the mobs of tourists to the quieter streets. He hoped he was making the right decision and wasn’t off on another wild-goose chase. It seemed that Anna didn’t know he might have the capability to follow her. But if she was rattled and her plan began to fall apart, she was going to make mistakes. What he couldn’t have happen was for Talia to get caught up in the crossfire.
“Talk to me,” he said, moving at a slow jog.
“Keep going another hundred yards, then take a left.”
He stared down the long empty alley. “Are you sure?”
“Yes...go. It’s a shortcut.”
Pipes and electrical wires competed for space with ivy up the brick walls. If he put his hands out he’d be able to touch both sides of the wall. There were private houses and graffiti on the walls. Locked doors, brick walls, barred windows, elaborate doors, opening up to wider, stone pavement. The farther he got from the tourist district the quieter the streets became. Local residents walked the narrow streets carrying shopping bags. Schoolchildren ran through the street.
He came to another canal.
“Turn left again and go over the bridge.”
He could smell garlic and onions coming from a small pizzeria, as he passed a dock with a row of boats bobbing in the water. Colorful wooden posts jetted up from the water. Bells rang in the background from one of the churches...
“Where is she?”
“Give me a second.”
Don’t let me lose her now, God, please. Not now.
“You’re close. One street over and another fifty feet.”
“Is she on a boat?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.”
He started running. Tracking her down in the water was going to be even more difficult.
“Wait a minute...looks like another twenty feet and you should see her.”
But he couldn’t.
The canal flowed beside him, and he could see at least half a dozen boats. He searched for Talia’s red shirt. Nothing.
Where are you, Talia?