He cocked his head again, looking at her with a suddenly blank expression.
“I need to go feed.”
She looked around, worried that someone had overheard, but Dr. Christiansen was still talking to the police officers, and Charlotte was talking with Dr. Scalia, who had come into the reading room while she and Giovanni had been speaking with the detective.
“Okay. Are you all right?” she whispered. “I mean, it’s not Friday, and I know you-”
“It’s best if I feed more.” He glanced at the door. “If there is any sort of trouble, I’ll be at my most effective if I’ve fed recently.”
Beatrice swallowed, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest. She didn’t know exactly what Giovanni did with the “donors” he fed from, but she had smelled perfume on him more than once when returned on Friday nights.
His eyes raked over her face. “Unless you’re offering, of course,” he said in a low voice. Giovanni stepped closer to her in the bright, florescent lights of the reading room, and she could feel herself react to him.
The small hairs on her body reached toward him as she fought their growing attraction. She felt the flush start in her face and her heart picked up, he had probably already sensed the hint of arousal his suggestion had produced.
She cleared her throat and shook her head. “That’s all right. I need to…I’ll see you later.”
He paused, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say more, but then straightened and stepped back a little. “I’ll make sure Carl is waiting with the car when your shift is over.”
She nodded and looked at her hands, twisting them together as he turned to go.
“See you,” she called, but he was already halfway out the door.
Charlotte wandered over to her and gave her a small hug. “Can you believe this? What a mess! And poor Dr. Scalia, he’s so upset.”
Beatrice looked over Charlotte’s shoulder and glanced at the small professor. He did look troubled, and Beatrice had the fleeting thought that sometimes academics put too high a price on old parchment. Then she shook her head and reminded herself she was supposed to be a librarian. Charlotte perched on the edge of the table next to her.
“I don’t think there’s any reason for you to stay.”
“Why not?”
Charlotte shrugged. “We’re just going to be talking to these guys most of the night. And Dr. Vecchio left. Dr. Scalia is hanging around, but he’ll go in a few.” She nodded toward the door. “Go on. Head home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Beatrice thought for a moment, but then decided she didn’t really want to hang around the police detective who was questioning her earlier, even if Giovanni had worked his mind voodoo on him. “Okay. I might hang around downstairs for a while, but I’ll clock out.”
“Good, and don’t hang out too long. Go do something fun. See if you can track down Dr. Handsome,” she said with a wink.
“Right,” she laughed. “Right.”
Beatrice gathered her bag and book from behind the reference desk and checked her phone. As she waited by the elevator, she heard someone behind her. She glanced over, but realized it was only Dr. Scalia, who gave her a sad smile. She nodded at him before she dialed Carl’s number. She was waiting for it to ring when the elevator doors opened. She frowned, knowing she would lose reception if she stepped inside, but not wanting to wait for the next unpredictable car. Beatrice hit the ‘end’ button on her phone and decided she could call Carl from the lobby and wait for him there.
They had just passed the fourth floor when Dr. Scalia reached forward and pushed the button for the third. She turned to him, startled by the interruption, and saw him standing in the corner, pointing a small handgun at her. His smile and his eyes were still sad.
“You are so perceptive, my dear. So very much like your father.”
Her mouth gaped. “Dr. Scalia?”
The elevator door opened on the next floor and he scooted over to peer out.
“Come now, my dear. No need to linger in the elevator.”
“W-what’s going on?” She peered into the darkened hallway on the third floor. Beatrice knew that few students, if any, would be on the floor this time of night. It contained an old section of the law library, and hardly anyone ever used it.
“You and I are going to meet some friends, Miss De Novo. Off the elevator now. I don’t want to force you.”
Her mind was reeling, and she kept looking between Dr. Scalia’s sad smile and the gun, unable to comprehend why he was pointing it at her. “But Dr. Scalia-”
“No arguing,” he said in a sharp voice, motioning toward the empty hallway with the dull, black weapon.
She stumbled out, her eyes glued to his hand. He propelled her forward, bypassing the main stairwell and heading into the stacks. Dr. Scalia walked close to her, making sure the barrel of his gun brushed against her if she slowed her pace.
“Did you know your father and I knew each other? We knew each other in school; we even worked together, for a time. It made everything so much harder. He never should have found those books in Ferrara.”
She looked around, her heart beginning to beat in panic. The old law library was so seldom used, the staff didn’t even keep the lights on through most of the floor, so the tall bookcases seemed to twist into a dark maze as they walked through them.
“Books? In Ferrara? Dr. Scalia, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What are you saying about my dad?”
“You look so much like him, too. Something about your eyes, I think.” Halting for a moment, he looked at her with pity. “I hated to do it…but he had seen them, and he was asking so many questions. He knew they didn’t belong there. I had to tell Lorenzo he had found the books. It was my responsibility to report him. You understand about responsibility, don’t you?”
She nodded, trying to calm her racing heart as she clutched her phone. “Sure. Sure, I understand.” She didn’t understand. Beatrice didn’t understand a word he was saying. She didn’t know what was in Ferrara, except the-
“Wait, are you talking about the university where the letters were translated?” She spun around to look at him, halting in the middle of the stacks, totally forgetting about the gun. “So, you work for Lorenzo? Are you saying my father found Lorenzo’s-I mean Gio’s-books in Ferrara? He was in Florence, Dr. Scalia, he was killed-”
She broke off with a gasp when the small professor stepped forward and raised the gun to her chest. Her stomach dropped. “I don’t understand what’s going on,” she choked out, suddenly looking around and realizing no one could help her. There wasn’t a soul stirring on the third floor that night.
Dr. Scalia spoke in a soothing voice. “I know it’s confusing, my dear. Hand me your phone, will you? I don’t want to have to shoot you.” He held out his hand, and Beatrice tried to think of a way to stall him so she could call Carl, but the gun seemed to grow larger in his hand the longer she stared at it. Eventually, she handed the small professor her mobile phone, and he stuck it in his pocket.
“It was such an honor to be asked to care for those books. You’re a librarian, so you must understand. And no one seemed to mind me in the old building. I knew it like the back of my hand. The books never should have been found, I had taken such pains to hide them.”
He continued to look at her with sympathy, but she noticed his hand never trembled on the gun. He pointed her toward the back staircase as they continued to weave their way through the bookshelves. The back stairs were rarely used, even by the maintenance staff.
“You stole the letters from the manuscript room, didn’t you? You stole them for Lorenzo?”
He snorted. “They were his to begin with, and it wasn’t difficult. The combination lock is simple, and I’m such a trustworthy soul, aren’t I? No one notices me darting around this place. Just like Ferrara,” he said with a chuckle. “And he’ll be so pleased to finally have you. He’s been waiting for just the right time.”