Page 103 of Chasing Caine

“Track her how?”

“Gimme her name.” There was a popping noise, which, knowing Lucy, was a gum bubble.

“I thought you kicked the gum habit?”

She chuckled, “Around you, maybe.”

“Eva Zabelle. She’s an artist from Miami originally, normally lives in Rome, and she’s staying in Naples for the short-term. She works at the Riccardo Emanuele Gallery here in town.”

“I’m on it.” The keyboard noises continued, just as rapidly as she always typed.

“Call me back?”

“Nah.” Another bubble popped. “I saw this guy on TikTok explaining about how easy it was to find some people through their social media. Followed him over to a series he’s done on YouTube—with willing participants—showing all the clues people drop with stuff they post where you can see their house, zoom in to see their street number, then— How long’s she been in Naples?”

“Not sure. Maybe a couple of weeks?”

“Then this is her.”

“Already?”

“Got her photo from the gallery website, which helped me confirm her profile on a photo-sharing app. A week and a half ago, she shared an outdoor photo with a hashtagtemporary home, location data turned on. That put her in Naples. But it also included the sign at the front of the building behind her, so I have an address. She’s holding the keys in front of herself, but her sunglasses are so reflective, you can totally make out that there’s an etched number on the backside of one of the keys.”

She texted me the address and I pushed off the wall, heading to the piazza to find a car.

“That’s impressive, Lucy. When I get back, you’ll have to show me some of those tricks. I imagine they’ll come in handy.”

“Absolutely! You feeling any better?”

I rounded a corner and nearly knocked into a petite woman in a too-tight black T-shirt. With a smile of apology, I was on my way. “A little bit. It’s been a wild week and a half.”

“Heart not weeping anymore?”

My sandal scuffed on the sidewalk, jarring my bad ankle. Since the day we’d met, Lucy’s lack of social boundaries confounded me. Sometimes it was for the best, other times not. “I haven’t quite figured that out yet.”

“This Eva woman going to sort it out for you?”

“Hopefully.”

Lucy navigated her way through three tangents and a story about her last trip to Naples with her travel-blogging parents before I arrived at the piazza.

We said goodbye and I stopped before reaching the road. I had Eva’s home address. Visiting would mean I’d have body language to work with and more control of the situation.

I probably would have gotten even better information if Antonio were with me. But how could I trust him? Or was he thinking he was protecting me, the way I kept things from Lucy to protect her?

But a burner phone hiding more family business? Carabiniere De Rosa implied Antonio was involved in the wall painting theft. Nathan had warned me Antonio’s family might be connected. What did it all mean? And how much was he hiding from me?

Regardless, I had my decision. Surprise visit to Eva Zabelle—on my own—it was.

Chapter 34

Antonio

Itorealongthenarrow pedestrian street, attempting to nudge, not shove, people out of my way. It was a risk. A calculated risk I couldn’t afford to not take. Samantha had accepted my call from her cab, but not even one after that. Said she was going to the villa, but she was stubborn. Infuriating. Overconfident. Foolhardy.

Wouldn’t let the investigation go. Taped up an injured ankle and insisted we wander around town. Tackled a purse snatcher with her crutch.

I dodged a large woman swinging a shopping bag. A child lagging behind his father. A gaggle of young women staring at some man across the street.

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