Excited, she opened the e-mail and read it:
Win,
In case you and Chris are worried, I’m fine. Can’t say where I am – that would ruin the fun – but I’ve come up with a project, and I’m enjoying it. More soon.
BTW, got your note about ‘The Dig.’ Kudos. Pop would be proud.
Relief permeated her body. The message might have had a strange tone – like maybe Sam’s mood had swung from too low to too high – but at least she didn’t have to worry about him being suicidal.
She forwarded the e-mail to Christina with a quick note, then set the phone on the nightstand.
As she reached to turn out the lamp, the tyet amulet caught her eye. Before now, she’d forgotten she’d brought it. Being a goddess symbol, it reminded her about the candle-lighting at the temple again.
Chaz’s gesture had been so sweet. And, now, as if in response to his efforts, Sam had sent her a message. She wondered if Chaz was still awake.
Grabbing her phone again, she texted him: “magna mater prevails! sam’s fine. (got an e-mail.)”
She hit “Send” and waited a minute, feeling nervous for no apparent reason.
A text came back from him. It said, “woot!”
In her excitement, she couldn’t resist typing another message: “sorry if i woke u, but i wanted to thank u again for ur support.”
A few seconds later, a short message came back: “my pleasure.”
Her spirits felt so light, her fatigue had lifted. But keeping him awake wouldn’t be fair. She punched in one last text: “buona notte. ti voglio bene!”
Once she had sent it, another tug of angst pulled at her. Ti voglio bene may have translated literally to “I wish you well,” but she knew it was often used for “I love you.”
Time stretched out without a response. Was he questioning her use of the phrase, too? Or had he fallen asleep? It had been a long day.
Finally, a message came up, and she clicked on it.
“ciao. tvb,” it read.
In abbreviated form, the phrase seemed more benign than when the words were spelled out. He hadn’t even used exclamation points. She twisted her mouth, absurdly disappointed. What had she wanted him to say? Certainly not that he loved her.
Emotion and exhaustion were getting the best of her. Maybe Sam wasn’t the only one in the family with unhealthy mood swings.
Shaking her head to herself, she set her phone on the table and shut out the light.
DODICI
THE NEXT MORNING Winnie woke up with a peace of mind she hadn’t felt in weeks. Besides Sam’s checking in with her, she’d begun to settle into a comfortable routine with “The Dig.” The reenactment still lay ahead, but with two days of filming under her belt, the prospect felt less scary. So far, she’d hardly had any camera time, and although she would have a big role in the rites, the final cut would probably be short. The site offered too much real archaeology to waste airtime on filler material.
On the way downstairs, she ran into Dunk, and they walked outside together. He looked up at the clear sky and smiled. “No sign of last night’s rain.”
“I checked the forecast online,” she said. “Lookin’ good for the rest of the excavation.”
“The gods are smiling on us again, Winnie dear.” He fished his keys out of his pocket. “You’re welcome to ride with me, but I told Enza I’d wait for her. She shouldn’t be long.”
“Thanks. I don’t mind waiting.” Glancing around, she confirmed no one else was within earshot. “So, are you still leery of Father Giampiero, or has he won you over now that you know him better?”
He shrugged and unlocked the car. “My concerns have nothing personal to do with him, but I’m still keeping a close watch on Trench 3. Recovering a lost text would be just the sort of boost ‘The Dig’ needs to stay on the air. On the off-chance that scrolls show up here, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let them be whisked away and sacrificed at the altar of the Church, along with my program’s chance at survival.”
His vehemence surprised her. “Wow, you’re even more cynical about religion than I am.”
He opened the driver’s door. “I have no quarrel with anyone’s humble beliefs, but power-mongers have used religion throughout history to cover up manipulations that favor themselves and their cronies at the expense of the greater good.”
As she moved toward the passenger side, Enza and Chaz burst out of the house, laughing about something. Enza wore a rhinestone-studded, graphic-print sleeveless top and white riding pants – hardly an ideal outfit for digging, but it definitely looked cute.
Catching herself frowning, Winnie looked downward. As much as she’d be better off with Enza diverting Chaz’s attention away from her, she felt he deserved someone better than that petulant princess.
Like you? She asked herself. Get real.
The princess brushed past her and jumped into the front seat on the passenger side. The move seemed to validate Winnie’s assessment of her, but she could no longer deny that her opinion was tinged by jealousy.
She slid into the backseat next to Chaz, feeling chastened. “Buon giorno.”
“Buon giorno,” he said. “I’m glad my word with the Magna Mater last night proved helpful.”
She gave him a sardonic smile. “Worked like a charm. We’d better be careful what we ask her for during our ritual tonight.”
He grinned. “I’ll have to think of something good.”
Her heartbeat quickened on cue, and she turned to face the window. He had her wrapped around his little finger. Luckily, Dunk turned on the radio, and the loud music saved her from talking on the way to the site.
As they approached the excavation area, Chaz leaned forward and peered through the windshield. “What are the police doing here?”
Surprised, she looked ahead and saw two polizia italiana cars, lights on, in the parking lot. As they pulled up to the gate, a stocky uniformed officer held up a hand for them to stop.
Dunk switched off the radio and rolled down his window. “Can I help you, officer?”
The cop leaned over to look in the car, scanning each of their faces. “I need identification from all of you. Everyone must be on the list of persons authorized to enter.”
“We haven’t had to check in on previous days,” Dunk said, digging into his back pocket.
“A possible robbery has occurred.”
Shocked, Winnie leaned forward. “What’s missing? Is there damage to the ruins?”
He took Dunk’s license and checked it against a sheet of paper. “A hole has been dug in an unauthorized area of the estate. Evidence points to something being taken, but we don’t know what was there.”
“Bloody hell,” Chaz said. “How big is the hole?”
“About a meter cubed.” Returning Dunk’s documents, he held out a hand for Enza’s.
“Nearby?” Dunk asked.
The officer scowled. “I do not have time for so many questions. Show me the rest of your documents and go about your business.”
Winnie and Chaz scrambled to dig out their IDs. He checked them against his list and waved the car inside.
“I wonder where the hole is,” she said. “Do you think by ‘an unauthorized area’ he meant outside the dig site?”
But, of course, none of them knew.
In the breakfast tent, they ran into Amara and asked if she had more information, but she’d only heard as much as they had.
At the student tables, the usual laughter prevailed, but the other side of the tent had a somber air.
When Winnie got up to bus her things, Dunk pulled her aside from the others. “I didn’t want to say this in front of Enza, but when we heard about the robbery, my first thought went to Giampiero. The rest of us staying onsite are professionals in the field. And who has better access to the property than a priest?”
She hadn’t considered Father Giampiero, but she supposed Dunk might have a point. “Are you going to mention your suspicions to the police?”
&
nbsp; “Not yet. I don’t want to accuse a priest without any actual evidence against him.”
She nodded. “Then I guess we’ll just continue keeping an eye on him. What more can we do?”
When she turned away, she spotted Domenico walking past the tent quickly. She shoved her plate into a pail of dirty dishes and ran after him. “Domenico! Do you have a moment?”
“For you, certo.” He stopped but kept darting his eyes around with a nervousness unusual for him. “How can I help you?”
“I don’t want to hold you up, but the police told us that a looter’s hole has turned up on the estate. Where did it happen?”
“In a remote area, away from the house and the excavation.” He pursed his lips. “It’s disturbing to learn that an intruder has invaded my property. Whoever it was is fortunate that a landmine didn’t explode in his face.”
She blinked. It almost sounded like he felt the fabled World War II munitions had their usefulness.
Chaz trotted up as she asked, “What do you think they took?”
“We have no idea. Nothing but soil is left behind – no clue to what the hole held. The police have been checking the excavation area, too. Nothing up here appears to be disturbed, so the incident shouldn’t interfere with filming Duncan’s program.”
“Well, that’s something to be thankful for,” Chaz said.
Domenico shook his head. “I am not satisfied. I pride myself on keeping my family and my property safe. I do not understand how someone got in here and out again without being seen. My security firm is reviewing video footage now.”
Thinking of Giampiero, Winnie bit her lip. “Over the last few days, so many people have come and gone. You also have to consider that someone here for the excavation could be responsible.”
“For sure. But I don’t see why an insider would target that part of the estate, far from the chief ruins we know about. I assure you, however, that I will discover the reason.” He patted her arm and walked away.
Chaz watched him leave. “I’ll almost feel sorry for the intruder when the signore catches up with him.”
She glanced around then said in a low voice, “Dunk suspects Giampiero. But on our first night here, when Domenico toasted the priest, he described him as an old friend, so he must trust the guy. I wonder how well Giampiero knows the estate.”
“Likely much better than most of us.”
When they got back to their trench, the work kept her from thinking about the robbery. They maintained the same fast pace of the first two days, and by mid-morning, they had started excavating the entrance to the building.
Working side-by-side on the doorway put them closer together than they’d been on previous days. It was hard not to notice every time she brushed against him, but she tried to concentrate on working. Time was ticking away, and she wanted to make sure they could start on the interior the next day.
“Here’s something.” He used his trowel to pick lapilli away from a brown object in the middle of the entrance. Slowly, a decorative floral motif emerged on a rounded surface. “This feels like metal, perhaps bronze, judging by the color.”
She inched closer and watched him free the artifact from its 2,000-year-old constraints. As he lifted it out, a wire-like handle fell to one side. “A bucket,” she said.
A smile curved his lips. He set down his trowel, picked up a brush, and dabbed at the dirt stuck to the relief. “This is consistent with the building being a purgatorium.”
“Were there pre-Christian rituals similar to baptism?” she asked.
“Yes, though they’re not well documented.”
She searched her mind for relevant classical accounts and came up with nothing. Then something else popped into her head. “When you think about it, early churches and medieval cathedrals had the baptistery separate from the church, the same way this building stands outside the temple. I wouldn’t be surprised if the old rites were similar to modern ones, too.”
“Neither would I.” He looked at her curiously. “Do you have a Catholic background? I mean, you don’t practice, but your sister does, right?”
A wave of aversion washed through her. Continuing to work, she forced herself to answer. “My mom’s family is Catholic, but she has never practiced.”
“And it’s a ticklish subject between you and Christina?”
She swallowed and nodded. “There’s a story behind it. When we came to Italy, the churches intrigued me, and I asked a lot of questions. Come Sunday, my mom took us kids to mass. It didn’t go well. The priest talked about how women should be subservient to their husbands. I’d been taught women and men were equal, so I was appalled. Then, when we got home ...” Her voice failed her. But she wanted to tell him. “That was the day my dad was lost.”
“Oh, Winnie.” He moved toward her.
“No, don’t.” She held up a hand, refusing to look up from her work. “We don’t have time to be maudlin. I’ll just add that over the next few days we spent a lot of time at the church. Each time we went, I felt worse.”
He drew in a deep breath. After a moment, he asked, “I heard you say that he committed suicide. Are you sure it wasn’t an accident?”
“Ninety percent sure, I guess. He didn’t leave a note. In fact, the police ruled the death an accident. But he was a great swimmer. He sailed a lot. He knew tides and weather. I just feel that if he’d wanted to live, he could have.”
To her surprise, the tension in her lifted. Instead, she felt a sense of relief. She’d never before shared that much detail about how she’d experienced the tragedy. Even she and her family didn’t discuss it.
The sound of Farber’s voice in the distance interrupted her thoughts. As usual, he greeted everyone he passed in a loud, sing-song tone: “How are you!” inflected like a statement rather than a question. After all, he didn’t actually want to know the answer.
He appeared at the side of the trench, carrying an unopened bottle of water. “Well! A bronze bucket. Your theory about this building being a purgatorium may be correct, Charles.”
Winnie stood up in the pit and brushed off her hands. “The kid knows his purgatoria.”
Chaz rolled his eyes. “My personal purgatory is you calling me ‘kid.’ ”
Farber opened up his water, drinking from it as two students carrying empty pails approached the trench from behind him. “By the way, Winifred, this morning someone connected with Pompeii scavi called me looking for you – a Dr. Lombardo.”
At first, the name didn’t sound familiar. Then she connected it with the retired professor they’d met at the wine bar along with the tour guide. “Really? Did he say what he wanted?”
He eyed the students as they kneeled next to the trench and shoveled spoil into the pails. “He said he has something to give you. I confirmed that we’re staying here, so he’s sending it over today.”
“What is it?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t ask. If it were my business, I suppose he would have told me.”
She turned to Chaz. “Could I have lost something while we were on the night tour?”
He rubbed his chin, unknowingly leaving a streak of dirt behind. “If it’s the man from the wine bar, when you asked him about your father, he acted as if the name rang a bell with him. Maybe he remembered something.”
Excitement shot through her, but her next thought dampened it. “But his colleague said the Price they knew was too young to be my dad – and, apparently, still alive. Maybe Dr. Lombardo knows a distant relative of mine.”
He nodded. “But, if so, perhaps that relative will know something about your father.”
“I don’t want to get my hopes up.”
As the students left with their buckets of spoil, Farber stooped next to the trench. He glimpsed back over his shoulder, then said, “I need a word with you two about something else, too.”
Figuring her personal quest didn’t interest him, she wondered if he’d seen his digging partner do something suspicious. She shifted closer, and Chaz followed
suit.
“Father Giampiero and I have been talking while we work,” he said in a hushed tone. “I think he has a point about the ritual reenactment they’re staging here being unseemly.”
She nearly laughed out loud. That was his big concern? “I’m not crazy about it, either, Will, but we told Dunk we’d do it.”
“Well, I’m going to abstain – or, at most, take a background role. I think you two should, too.”
She frowned. Once again, she found herself defending “The Dig.” “We can’t leave Dunk out in the cold. He needs to shoot the segment for the show. He was kind enough to include us in this project, and we agreed to participate fully.”
Her boss snorted. “As usual, Winifred, you take things too literally. It’s not as though our contracts with ‘The Dig’ specify that we have to take part in every segment. As with anything in life, there’s room for interpretation and modification. Frankly, participating in the reenactment is going to make the university look foolish.”
She lifted her chin. “Backing out would make us look like we can’t be taken at our word.”
He glared down his nose at her. “You have some quaint notions.”
“Integrity isn’t a quaint notion.”
“Nor is dignity.”
She gave him a wry smile. “How about stuffiness?”
Chaz cleared his throat. “Any interesting developments at the lodging, Dr. Farber?”
He gave Chaz an irritated look, then sighed and let his posture relax. “Yes. We’ve found that the building has a downstairs, like the temple. We’re working on opening the door.” He turned back to her. “Maybe we’ll actually find scrolls there, Winifred. The priests likely would have kept texts of some sort.”
She and Chaz glanced at each other, and she knew he was thinking about Giampiero, too.
The Five-Day Dig Page 12
