Page 179 of The Chase
Tobias had met with Sarah the same night he’d had Cooper drive me home from the palace. He’d flown to Canterbury to give her back her family heirloom.
A woman answered. “Hello?” She sounded elderly, just as Tobias had described her.
“Ms. Ramirez?” I said. “Are you enjoying your Titian?”
She gasped and hung up.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I cursed myself for needing more proof.
Tobias had stolenSt. Joanto protect me.
It was over.
My gaze rose and froze on the image across the street—
Standing there, clad in orange robes, was a young monk, serene and completely still. He was staring right at me.
He was the same monk who’d been outside the Wilder building.
He walked away.
Taking two at a time, I hurried down the steps.
I dodged the other pedestrians and rushed after him, terrified I’d lose this fine thread that might lead me to Tobias.
The monk headed into the entrance of Charing Cross tube station, and I quickly got in line for a ticket.
At the bottom of the escalator he was gone. “Please.” I begged the universe.
My shoulders slumped with frustration as I looked left and right into the crowd. A tube pulled up.
A flash of orange. He was sitting on a seat on the tube. I ran toward the compartment right in front of me and pried open the doors. I slid through and grabbed the center pole to steady my feet as the train took off, not taking my eyes off the monk.
He got off at Bermondsey.
Making his way out of the tube station and along. His steady pace was easy to follow.
After fifteen minutes he opened the towering iron gates of a large brick manor set back on the street. He continued up the steps and through a turquoise-colored door.
He went inside.
I pulled open the gate and it squealed on its hinges. And made my way inside—
The scent of incense hung heavy and the quiet seemed to be trying to calm my thundering heart. Stepping in farther, I soaked in the oriental decor of carved wooden furniture and took in the deep red walls that offered a womb-like peace.
The monk stood at the end of a long, dimly lit hall, and he was looking back at me. Standing beside him was an older priest who was also clad in robes.
The older priest stepped forward. “You have it?”
I clutched the bag to my chest.
“Please.” He gestured the way. “He’s waiting for you.”
Hands trembling, I took a wary step forward. “It was stolen from you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
