Homeport

through those personnel files.”
    She tried a deep breath. “Anything else I should bring along?”
    “An appetite.” He pulled his phone out of his bag. “We should be in New York in time for dinner. You’re going to love my mother’s linguine.”
     
    It was nearly six before Andrew managed to get home. He’d tried to call Miranda half a dozen times, but had only reached their answering machine. He wasn’t certain what shape he’d find her in—manic with temper or desolate with hurt. He hoped he was prepared to deal with either, or both.
    But all he found was a note on the refrigerator.

Andrew, I’m sure you’re aware I’ve been ordered to take a leave of absence from the Institute. I’m sorry to leave you in the lurch at a time like this. I don’t want to say I don’t have a choice, so I’ll say I’m making the only one that works for me. I’ll be gone for a couple of weeks. Please, don’t worry. I’ll be in touch when I can.
Don’t forget to take out the trash. There’s enough roast left over from Sunday to keep you going for another meal or two. See that you eat.
 
Love,
Miranda
    “Shit.” He yanked the note free and read it through again. “Where are you?”

fourteen
    “I don’t see why we didn’t just fly to Florence.” Miranda was well past second thoughts and into third thoughts by the time Ryan took the wheel of a natty little BMW and navigated out of La Guardia. “If we’re going to do something this insane, there’s no point in taking a detour.”
    “It isn’t a detour, it’s a scheduled stop. I need my things.”
    “You could have bought clothes in Italy.”
    “I probably will. If the Italians dressed the world, it would be a much more attractive place. However, there are certain things I need that can’t always be easily bought in the retail market.”
    “Your tools,” she muttered. “Burglary tools.”
    “Among others.”
    “Fine, fine.” She shifted in her seat, drummed her fingers on her knee. Somehow, she had to accept the fact that she was now working with a criminal. A thief, who by definition was without integrity.
    Without his help, she saw no way she would ever see the bronze again—or the forgery. And there was a forgery, she assured herself. It was a logical theory, one that required more data and study in order to be proven.
    If she swallowed her pride and took the theory to her mother? The idea nearly made Miranda laugh. Elizabeth would dismiss it, and her daughter, in a snap, putting it down to arrogance, stubbornness, and a bit of desperation.
    And not entirely without cause, Miranda admitted.
    The only one who was willing to listen, to explore the possibility, was a professional thief who was certainly working toward his own ends—and expected her to hand over the Donatello Venus as a consultant fee.
    Well, they would see about that.
    He was a factor in the equation, she reminded herself, nothing more. Finding and authenticating The Dark Lady was more important than the formula she used to gain that end.
    “There’s no reason to go into Brooklyn.”
    “Sure there is.” Ryan thought he had a pretty good idea what was running around in that admirable brain of hers. She had a very expressive face—when she didn’t know anyone was paying attention to her. “I miss my mother’s cooking.”
    He beamed at her and zipped around a poky sedan. It was so easy to read her. She was hating every minute of this, juggling the pros and cons in her mind to try to find full justification for the choice she’d made. “And I have a couple of things to straighten out, familywise, before I go to Italy. My sister’s going to want shoes,” he muttered. “She always wants shoes. She’s addicted to Ferragamo.”
    “You steal shoes for your sister?”
    “Please.” Genuinely insulted, he scowled at traffic. “I’m not a shoplifter.”
    “Excuse me, but stealing is stealing.”
    His scarred eyebrow arched wickedly. “Not by a long shot.”
    “And there’s no reason for me to go to Brooklyn. Why don’t you just drop me off at whatever hotel I’m staying in.”

    “First, you’re not staying in a hotel. You’re staying with me.”
    Her head whipped around, her eyes narrowed. “I certainly am not.”
    “And second, you’re going to Brooklyn because, as you appear to have forgotten, we’re joined at the hip until this is finished. Where I go you go . . . Dr. Jones.”
    “That’s ridiculous.” And inconvenient. She needed time alone,