Teresa Battaglia and the feeling of inadequacy she awakened in him were the reason for the walk he was taking in the freezing cold. Massimo was determined to close the gap that he knew separated him from her, and he was going to do it exactly as she had suggested.

The library was situated in a seventeenth-century building overflowing with marble and chalky stuccos. It was warm inside, and a scent of wood emanated from the boiserie and the desks lined up in the center of the reading room. The smell of paper, the gentle rustle of pages being turned, and the soft light were like anaesthetics against the stirrings of the human soul.

He browsed several sections of bookshelves, glancing every now and then at a piece of paper in his hand.

“Can I help?”

Massimo turned around and came face to face with a pretty young woman wearing a badge on her shirt that identified her as a library employee.

“Thank you, I didn’t expect it to be so difficult to find my way around,” he told her.

“That’s what I’m here for,” she replied. “We hold over a million texts in this library, including books, journals, and media.”

She sounded like someone in an ad, but Massimo thought she was cute anyway. He noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding band or an engagement ring.

He smiled at her.

“Then you must have come to my rescue,” he replied, making an effort to turn up the charm as he spoke.

He had no trouble interpreting the girl’s response: she was definitely interested. Perhaps he was interested, too. He didn’t know anyone in town. He’d spotted a charming bar just around the corner; maybe he’d ask her out for a drink after work, one of these days.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” she said, smiling at his look of surprise. “It’s the accent,” she explained.

Massimo made a face, deciding to play along.

“Is it really that obvious?” he asked.

She shook her head and her fair curls bobbed against the delicate planes of her temples.

“Not too much,” she told him.

The girl gestured at the list in his hand.

“That looks long,” she said. “Please tell me you’re not one of these college students who constantly fails to graduate,” she teased.

Massimo laughed.

“I’m not.”

“So it’s for work?”

He hesitated. Did he really want to talk to this girl about murders and eyes that couldn’t be found?

“Let’s just say I’m doing some research,” he answered.

She blinked, and her long, golden eyelashes fluttered.

“So it must be something you’re passionate about,” she murmured. “Let me see.”

Massimo didn’t even have time to speak before she’d grabbed the piece of paper from him and started reading through it.

Her smile began to fade. It occurred to Massimo that they hadn’t even introduced themselves.