Freya already had two glasses of champagne and was pressing one into my hand. She’d grumbled about dressing up again—but cheered up considerably when I let her wear my garter belt of zip-ties.
“One hour,” I teased, holding up my finger.
She rolled her eyes. “You know me so well.” Freya nodded at the display shining in the middle of the room. “I still can’t believe she really had it. Just like this, in her mansion, while 300 people milled about at a party.”
“Victoria is the reason why Codex will never go out of business,” Abe said pointedly. “There will always be people like Victoria who believe they deserve to steal a piece of history simply because they can.”
“What’s the word on her?” Henry asked. “Did she go underground, like Bernard?”
Abe shook his head. “The FBI scooped her up for questioning the morning after the party, thanks to some of the incriminating evidence you two uncovered. I submitted your photos to my contact at the Art Theft department as well as Francisco.”
Henry gave me a small smile.
“All I know so far is she’s hired the best criminal defense lawyer in the country.”
I felt that twinge again, thinking of Victoria sitting in a prison cell. But my eyes landed on the book, and I remembered just how carelessly she’d gone about the whole ordeal—as Abe had said, how confidently she operated in the shadowy world of rare book theft. She appeared unconvinced that what she was doing was a crime, and people like that only ended up stealing and stealing until one day they were caught.
Good Victoria. Bad Victoria. She was effortlessly both.
“Can we go see it?” Henry asked.
Abe nodded, directing us toward the glass podium where a crowd was gathered around. A docent was quietly illuminating the audience with facts about the text, but I tuned him out, content to merely gaze at it. The gravity of the moment stunned all four of us into a shared silence. It was open to its seminal page—the science that posited the revolutionary theory that the planets of our solar system orbited the sun.
I studied the concentric circles, thought about all the tiny decisions and actions that set in motion the discovery of this theory; the hand printing of this specific book, the banning of it, the many people and hands who had owned it over the past 500 years.
Victoria stealing it.
And finally: Henry and I fleeing with it in the night, against all odds.
Henry couldn’t contain the joy on his face. I watched him stand with Abe—he fit here, at Codex. He belonged.
“I know, in this field, it’s easy to get caught up and captivated by people like Bernard or Victoria,” Abe was saying softly, mostly to Henry. “They dominate the landscape with their privilege and their power. But at the end of the day, people will steal regardless of the legal implications. In the middle of it all, is the book.”
“The book is the most important,” Henry repeated, and I could tell he really believed that. Even with his sudden interest in crime and punishment, he was a librarian at heart, would always be a librarian. That dedication would be the key to Codex’s future success.
His eyes slid toward mine, and I wondered if he was thinking what I was—that in this vitally important moment, I wanted to hold his hand, kiss his wrist, lean against his body and have him caress my hair. I wanted us to celebrate as partners—professionally and romantically. The urge was so strong I had to plant my feet and lock my knees to keep from going to him.
“I don’t like to repeat myself, as you know,” Abe said. “But I think it goes without saying that you two pulled off our most successful recovery to date.”
Henry nodded, hands in his pockets.
“Thank you,” I said. “It was an honor. Henry’s first case in the field.”
“So what do you think?” Abe said. “Your three-month probationary period is up. Does Codex suit you?”
“Absolutely,” he said, face brightening. “I’m not sure I can go back to being a librarian now.”
“Yay!” Freya cheered. “Welcome to the team, Henry. Permanently.”
I couldn’t look at Henry now. I glanced back at the book, felt a surge of pride. And a surge of…what? What was it exactly?
“You kept the rings?” Abe said.
“Yep,” I said, sounding nervous.
“Good.” Abe studied the room, as if he could already sense our next case brewing in this room of high society and underground thieves. “I think the Thornhills might come in handy in the future. People love a married couple.”
I gulped. I wasn’t going to lie and say these weeks of dirty marital fantasies hadn’t been part of the fun. But how was I supposed to pretend to be in love with Henry and then hide these feelings?
“You’ll have to fight me for her, Henry,” Freya said with mock ferocity.
“You’d win. Hands down,” Henry said, chuckling into his drink. He seemed comfortable, relaxed.
Happy.
“I’m going to find a restroom,” I said quickly. “Be right back.”
I made my way through the crowd on shaky legs, leaning my back up against the wall that led to the bathrooms and taking a few rapid breaths. It was quiet and cool here, far from all the people.
“Delilah Barrett?”
I turned to find, of all people, Margaret Pierce. My former coworker who was going after Mark Davis.
“Margaret,” I said, brow furrowed. “What are you…what on earth are you doing here?”
“I work security for the Franklin Museum now,” she said, and I finally realized she was in uniform. “I can’t believe you’re here. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
For a moment, I could only gape at her. Even after Freya had mentioned her website to me, I still felt like I was gazing at a unicorn—something magical that couldn’t quite be believed.
“Freya told me about you,” I finally said.
“I’m sorry?”
I shook my head. “My, um, my coworker. She found your website. You’re looking for testimony. About Mark.”
Margaret gave me a sweet smile, filled with the kind of understanding that exists between victims of the same crime. “I am. About a year after you left, Mark seduced me into a pretty intense relationship and fired me under the guise of—”
“Taking out the trash,” I said, dazed.
Her lips pressed together. “Exactly. I was pretty important to the political campaign he was running at that time. ‘Women like Margaret Pierce and Delilah Barrett have no right to hold the office of a public servant.’”
Anger boiled in my veins, white-hot and dangerous. “He said that?”
“In one of the many articles about me, yes.” I could see pain in her expression, but also a purpose. A direction for all that fury.
“I know what he did to you,” Margaret said gently. “And I think we have the potential for a case. That man shouldn’t be allowed to hold public office. He is corrupt in every single way.”
“I saw him at a party last week,” I blurted out. “I threatened to stiletto him in the face.”
Margaret glanced at my arms. “I have a feeling you could do that.”
“How did he get to you?” I asked, suddenly desperate for details.