She looked at Giovanni, whose face was grim as he watched the retreating officer.
“Not going to lie, that was more than a little creepy, Batman.”
“Whatever keeps you out of this mess.”
“Was it Lorenzo?”
He pursed his lips. “I imagine so. I have no idea how he got in, but you’re right; this place has very little security. Anyone with a bit of skill could break in.”
She hesitated, not wanting to voice the thought she’d had when she first learned of the theft, but feeling compelled, all the same time. “It wasn’t you, was it?”
Giovanni frowned when he looked at her, but she forced herself to continue, “It’s just…I know they are your letters. And I gave you my combination that time Lorenzo came here, and I would totally—”
“It wasn’t me.”
She felt horrible, as if she had betrayed him by even thinking it was a possibility. “Okay. I mean, I believe you. I don’t know why…I just know how much you want them back. And I’d understand if you took them.”
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.