Page 70 of Homeport

“Hold on.” He took a firm hold of her hand as he got to his feet. “You’re a little too close to the edge to suit me.”

“It’s like the David.” She shoved away from him, then grabbed his jacket. “I followed procedure, step by step. I know what I had in my hands. I know it.” She pushed him again, spun away with a clatter of boots on rock. “I did everything right. I detailed everything. The measurements, the formulas, the corrosion levels. I had all the facts, all the answers. Someone switched it.”

“Switched it?”

“Like the David.” She rapped a fist on his chest as if to knock the truth into him. “Just like the David. What Ponti’s lab had was a forgery, but it wasn’t the same bronze. It was a copy. It had to be a copy.”

“That’s a pretty big leap, Dr. Jones.” And the possibilities swam like fine wine in his head. “Interesting.”

“It fits. It makes sense. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Why?” He lifted his eyebrows. “Why isn’t it more logical that you made a mistake?”

“Because I didn’t. Oh, I can’t believe I let this cloud what I know.” She pulled her hands through her hair, pressing her fists to the side of her head. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. When you’re told you’re wrong often enough, strongly enough, you believe it. Even when you aren’t wrong.”

She began to walk, in those long, purposeful strides, letting the wind clear her head, letting her blood bubble. “I’d have gone on believing it, if it hadn’t been for the David.”

“Good thing I stole it.”

She slanted a look at him. He was matching his pace to hers, and appeared to be enjoying a casual walk on a breezy afternoon. “Apparently,” she muttered. “Why that piece? Why did you steal that particular piece?”

“I told you, I had a client.”

“Who?”

His lips curved. “Really, Miranda, some things are sacred.”

“They could be connected.”

“My David and your lady? That’s reaching.”

“My David and my lady—and it’s not that long a reach. They’re both bronzes, both Renaissance works, Standjo and the Institute are connected, and I worked on both. Those are facts. Both were genuine, both were replaced by copies.”

“And those are speculations, not facts.”

“It’s an educated and logical theory,” she corrected, “and the basis for a preliminary conclusion.”

“I’ve known this client for several years. Believe me, he isn’t interested in complicated plots and schemes. He simply sees something he wants, puts in an order. If I think it’s doable, I do it. We keep it simple.”

“Simple.” It was an attitude she was grateful she would never understand.

“And,” he added, “he would hardly have commissioned me to steal a forgery.”

Her brow creased at that. “I still believe whoever replaced the David replaced The Dark Lady.”

“I’ll agree it’s a definite, and intriguing, possibility.”

“I’d be able to solidify that conclusion if I was able to examine both pieces and compare them.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Let’s do it.”

She stopped at the base of the lighthouse, where the shale crunched under her feet. “Do what?”

“Compare them. We have one. It’s just a matter of getting the other.”

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