Chapter 390
Chapter 390:
Asher gave a small nod and wheeled alongside her as she moved through the stacks.
She browsed the shelves, though most of what was on open display were titles she could find in any ordinary bookshop. The real treasures were locked behind glass: an ancient religious manuscript, a celebrated German volume from the 1700s, a painted portrait of a local couple from the 1600s.
Those pieces were priceless, but Kristine’s work restoring antiques had given her a particular obsession with The Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria. The book was a meticulous record of ancient Italian cities and their burial grounds — an indispensable key to understanding how people had actually lived in those long-gone centuries. The world was vast, and Kristine had always wanted to know more of it than just what lay within her own borders.
But it seemed that wasn’t to be today.
She blinked and looked up toward the second floor. A door at the top of the stairs was shut and fastened with a heavy lock. The rarest holdings were almost certainly kept in there, well out of reach.
“You really want to read The Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, don’t you?” Asher said quietly.
“I really do,” Kristine admitted. “But after what the librarian said, there’s clearly no way they’d let me anywhere near it p>
Asher simply smiled and said nothing more.
They spent another two hours wandering the collection before finally making their way out into the early evening air.
Back at the house, Kristine turned to smile at Asher through the car window. “Thank you for spending the whole day with me p>
𝖨𝘯𝘁е𝗻ѕ𝖾 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝗮ո𝖼𝗲 𝗈n
He returned the smile with quiet sincerity. “The pleasure was entirely mine p>
She climbed out, gave him a small nod, and walked through the gate into the yard.
The day had thoroughly worn her out. She went straight upstairs, pushed her bedroom door open, and headed toward the closet.
Then she stopped.
There on her nightstand, resting as calmly as if it had always been there, was a book.
The Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria.
Devin stepped out of the bathroom in a loosely belted robe, his toned stomach visible where the fabric fell open. He poured himself a glass of red wine, put on some low, soothing music, and settled into the rocking chair. He closed his eyes and turned the wine glass slowly by its stem.
Perhaps it was the proximity to Eyling, but Patsy had been occupying his thoughts constantly, drifting into his dreams every single night. In those dreams she was always crying — looking at him with wide, terrified eyes, as though she had no one left in the world to turn to. Every time he tried to ask what was wrong, she would only shake her head and let the tears fall.
His phone chimed sharply, pulling him back. He opened his eyes and saw a file marked Alma Ford. He sat up and opened it.
Alma was the woman Goodwin had been pursuing so aggressively.