She rolls her eyes and salutes.
“The police here aren’t like the police where you’re from. You can’t litigate us out of this,” I say, pushing open the door and standing as she does the same. A rush of briny cool air floods over me and I breathe it in.
“Smells like Ocean City,” Ava says, grinning at me over the car. “And no one litigates with the police, James. You litigate in a courtroom.”
I wave her off as she makes her way around the car, her hair blowing softly over her shoulders. She stops and tilts her head.
“You can hear the ocean,” she says, her mouth curving into an easy smile.
“I wish we were here under better circumstances,” I say. “I could show you the beach.”
“Maybe next week …”
Her voice trails off, and I know she’s thinking about how little time she has left. That same thought that was once the promise of relief for me now torments me, a constant reminder of how stupid I am to let myself want her.
“Ready?” I ask, pulling her out of herself.
She nods once and I push open the door for her. She breezes by like she owns the place, leaving me to follow in her wake. There are three officers in uniform sitting behind a long counter, each in front of an oversized computer screen. Luca sits in a chair across from them and stands abruptly when he sees us. For the first time since I’ve met the kid, I can safely say he’s a mess.
“Ho provato a dirglielo,” he says, running a hand through his hair. He turns to Ava. “He would not listen.”
I put a hand on Luca’s shoulder and tell him everything will be fine, and before I can greet the officers I hear Ava say in a soft sweet voice, “Buonasera, signori.”
Apparently “let me handle it” didn’t resonate with her. Not that I’m surprised. I gesture for Luca to sit and make my way to the counter where Ava asks, “Parlate inglese?”
The officers are all leaning in toward her, nodding their heads, murmuring some variation of “Sì. Certo, bella.”
Ava smiles and they all smile back like we are playing some Italian version of Simon Says.
“Perfect,” she goes on. “We believe that you have one of our students in custody.”
She puts her hand out to me and I narrow my eyes at her, then fish Steven’s passport from my pocket and slap it against her open palm with more force than necessary.
“Grazie,” she says. She tosses me a devilish grin and then turns to her audience. “This is my associate, James.”
Associate? She sounds like she’s reading from Sherlock Holmes. Which means I’m Watson. I glance over at Luca and all of his fear seems to have been swept out to sea, replaced by obvious amusement as he watches Ava work the room.
The officers all lift a hand in greeting but keep their eyes on Ava as she slides the passport over to them. One opens it and nods gravely.
“Sì, cara. Steven Sanford has been incarcerated for trespassing and theft,” the middle officer says, opening his hands in a “what can one do?” gesture.
Ava shakes her head and purses her lips.
“May I ask where he trespassed and what he stole?”
“Certo. Certo. He climbed into an Etruscan dig site and took an artifact,” the officer says.
Holy shit. What was this moron thinking? I turn to Luca and he’s rubbing his hands over his face like he can scrub away Steven’s stupidity. Ava lets out a low hmmmm.
“Unacceptable,” she says and the men nod like bobbleheads. “An artifact? Really?”
The officer pulls a piece of paper out of a folder and pushes it over the counter at her. I can’t see her face, but I can tell by the set of her shoulders that she’s surprised. She lifts her head and slides the paper back.
“I wonder if we could ask you for a huge favor. It would mean so much to us if you’d allow us to handle his punishment,” she says.
They stop nodding.
“Obviously, we know you have it under control, but as a student in our program, it would really help us out if you were to release him into our custody and allow us to handle the rest. I can only imagine the legal headache that would come along with this if we were to involve his lawyers and the American embassy and—”
