CHAPTER 38

“Quando l’amore vuol fuggire è inutile inseguirlo.” When love flees it is futile to pursue it.

—Italian Proverb

As soon as Alessio was sleeping, Eliana called Ross’s cell phone from one of the hospital’s pay phones. He didn’t answer. In all she called six times before she took Alessio back to Rendola the following afternoon. After he was settled in and watching a video, Eliana left him with Manuela and drove down to Ponte Alle Grazie, where she parked her car and ran to Ross’s apartment. She found his name and apartment number on a lobby mailbox and knocked on his door. A stout, elderly woman answered.

“Mi scusi, signora. I am looking for Mr. Ross Story.”

The woman looked at her blankly.

“The man who lived here.”

“Whoever was here has gone.”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

“No, signorina. Why would I know that?”

“May I look through his apartment?”

“No, signorina. You will have to ask the landlord. But there’s nothing in here.”

“Where can I find the landlord?”

“Sotto. On the ground level, apartment seven.”

Five minutes later Eliana knocked on the landlord’s door. A woman, pale skinned, broad as a wine barrel, opened. “Cosa vuole?”

“I’m looking for one of your residents. Signor Ross Story. Room five twelve.”

“Mr. Story moved out.”

“Do you know where I might find him?”

She gazed at Eliana for a moment.

“No. He left yesterday. He gave me his key and left. He seemed to be in a hurry. He didn’t even wait for his deposit.”

“Do you have a forwarding address?”

“No, signorina.”

“Anything at all with an address? A check or something?”

“No, he paid in cash. He’s paid up to the end of the month.” She noticed the desperation in Eliana’s face. “I’m sorry, signorina. I would help if I could. He just came and went. Sometimes men do that.”

In the street Eliana hailed another cab and directed it to the Uffizi. They stopped in the courtyard and she ran out, past the crowds to the man standing guard at the entrance.

“Excuse me, signore, I need to speak with one of your tour guides. It’s very important.”

“There are many tour guides, signorina. You will have to make a reservation inside. Do you have a reservation number?”

“I’m looking for someone in particular. Ross Story.”

The man’s expression lightened. “Ross.”

“You know Ross?”

“Sì. Only Ross doesn’t work here anymore. He has left Florence.”

“Did he say where he might be going?”

“No, signora.” He parted the rope. “You ask inside. There’s an office past the gift shop.”

“Thank you.” She went inside, found the office and knocked. Patrizia answered the door.

“May I help you?”

“Mi scusi. I’m looking for a man who used to work here. His name is Ross Story.”

“Ross has left.”

“I know. Did he leave a forwarding address?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Maybe a bank number.” The woman continued shaking her head. “No, I’m sorry.”