by Maddy Hunter
As we hotfooted it back down the road, Jackie threw on her sunglasses and looked perplexed as she glanced around her. “Where’d everybody go?”
“Through those columns.” I pointed to our right. Jackie stopped short.
“Hold up, Emily. I wanna get one last picture of the square. Have you noticed that the square really isn’t square? Why do they call it a square if it’s an oval?”
“Jack! Come on! Everyone’s gone. They’re probably on the bus already!”
“Just one more shot.”
I hurried toward the shadow of Bernini’s columns and passed through the relative coolness of the roofed colon-nade, ending up on what looked like a residential street. But as I paused on the sidewalk, I noticed a minor problem.
Fifty-three people had come this way, right?
I looked left at the deserted street and sidewalk. I looked right at the deserted street and sidewalk.
So if fifty-three people had come this way, WHERE WERE THEY NOW?
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Pocket Books Proudly Presents Pasta Imperfect
