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Actually, she liked when Ollie touched her. That was why she sometimes jerked away from him. It wasn’t because she was repulsed by it—it was because she liked it, but it was so unusual for her, she misunderstood what that meant.

Evelyn let out a little gasp of surprise upon this realization.

“What’s wrong?” Ollie pulled his hand away.

“Touch me again,” she said hastily. She wanted to test her theory.

Ollie scratched the side of his nose. “Ah, not entirely sure what you mean by that.”

“The way you just did,” Evelyn replied blandly.

An amused twinkle of mischief in Ollie’s eye sent goosebumps all over her body. But he complied with her request.

She still held the hatpin in her hand, and now Ollie’s hand wrapped around hers once more. She waited, aware of every breath she took and released, but there was no feeling of disgust. Only pleasure.

“Evelyn, what’s going on?”

“I like this,” she said, looking up to meet him directly in the eye.

“You like me holding your hand?”

“Yes! Isn’t that amazing?”

But Ollie responded by rubbing his chin, as if mulling this over. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

“I don’t know. Quite curious, though, isn’t it?

Rarely, I can tolerate touch, like if my sister gives me a hug.

I thought I disliked your touch because of the way it makes me feel, but I’m now realizing it isn’t a bad feeling, just a strong feeling.

” But then she remembered what they were doing.

Her smile fell away. What a silly conversation this was.

“Never mind. Will you show me how to do this now?”

Ollie was frowning, as if trying to wrap his mind around what she had revealed, before returning his attention to the lock.

“Right. So, when you put the hatpin in, you need to find the lock pins and push them each in. There’re usually two or three.

” He found one, pushed the hatpin against it, and she felt it move.

“I felt that!” A rush of excitement hit her.

Ollie gave her a small grin. “This is why I had to show you. Since you can’t see what it’s doing, you have to feel it through your hand. Let’s try the other one.” He did a small circle with the hatpin and found the other pin. It moved, too, with gentle pressure.

“Brilliant,” Evelyn said.

“Now you do the last one.” He let go of her.

“Me? You’re sure?” She didn’t like the empty feeling his hand had left behind, but there wasn’t any time to dwell on that.

Ollie nodded.

With focused concentration, Evelyn found the final lock pin. Her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she tried to gently, but firmly, press in the last pin.

Not only did the hatpin not slip, but the lock pin moved.

Evelyn gasped. “I did it, Ollie!”

Ollie gave a crooked smiled at her pride and excitement. “Good girl,” he said in that low, velvet voice before taking her hand and lifting it to his lips.

He let it linger for a beat while holding her gaze. Evelyn could feel her face go hot as her heart began to pound.

For a short moment, it was pleasant. Tingles radiated from the spot his lips touched her and spread up her arm and all over her body. But it became too strong. Without thinking, she yanked her hand away from him. Hard.

Ollie stared at her for a long beat, a pained expression on his face. But before she could say anything, he stood up to his full height, placed his hand on the door handle, and said, “It’s best if I go in first.”

“Ollie.” She took a step toward him.

“Like you, I want this over with,” was all he said before opening the door and walking through.

Evelyn held back, looking into the dark doorway.

She couldn’t help but feel Ollie hadn’t been strictly talking about the stolen artwork just now.

He’d been talking about her, too. He wanted her over with.

Of course, she should’ve known better. She had intruded on his life, his home. And though he kept assuring her he was happy to help her, she was beginning to wonder how true that was. Maybe he was fine with helping her for a few days. But not longer, most assuredly.

Tonight, once they returned, Evelyn would put a final plan in place of what she was going to do. Even if she had to stay up all night to figure it out. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden to a friend.

Decision made, Evelyn stepped through the door, which promptly shut behind her, startling her.

It was incredibly dark in the museum and the only reason she could see anything was because of the windows. Evelyn went farther in and looked around. This room did not have any paintings. Instead, there were glass cases all along the walls. There was also an odd, dusty smell.

The room, even though the museum itself wasn’t very old, felt ancient.

“Where are we?” Ollie spoke in a hushed voice.

Evelyn peered into one of the glass cases.

This particular case acted as a protective surround for a large slab of stone.

On the stone was a carving of a man wearing some sort of very tall crown.

Around the man were curious symbols carved in neat columns.

Amongst them were eyes, birds, and other animals Evelyn didn’t immediately recognize.

“We appear to be in ancient Egypt,” Evelyn concluded, turning back to Ollie.

Ollie’s eyes darted around the room. “Have you ever known old museum objects to be haunted?”

“No, I don’t believe in ghosts. But I do think humans can imprint upon objects. Once, thousands of years ago, teams of people created everything in this room. And I do believe people leave a piece of themselves when they create. You can sense the humans who interacted with these objects.”

Ollie glanced around again with a clenched jaw. “All right. Time to leave this room.”

Evelyn gave a small laugh and followed him out of the room into a darkened hallway.

Neither spoke, as the stillness and silence of the building was too unnerving. Evelyn could hardly see an inch in front of her face, and the only reason they were able to see anything at all was because of open doorways that led into moonlit rooms.

Evelyn peeked into one of the rooms, finding ancient Greek statues and busts. The white, marble objects dotted the room like spirits in suspension.

“If he asked us to find him at the scene of the crime,” Evelyn began, “I think we should track down where he took the Fragonard, as he only took one of those.”

Ollie made grunt of agreement.

They passed another room and out of the corner of Evelyn’s eye, she spotted paintings. She quietly nudged Ollie and he followed her inside.

Immediately, Evelyn knew they were in the wrong room. But it was a room that felt familiar to her, offering a short respite from the creepiness of the dark and desolate museum.

“Italian Renaissance,” she said mostly to herself as she meandered along the wall.

A painting caught her eye and she stopped to observe it.

A blonde woman wearing a thin, white, Renaissance-style dress watched as a man, nude aside from white fabric draped over his lap, slept soundly.

Both were relaxed and lounging in a forest while mischievous satyrs played around them.

“ Venus and Mars by Sandro Botticelli,” Evelyn explained without looking away from it.

“It’s on loan here from the National Gallery.

” The woman in the painting was soft and voluptuous.

“The god of war and the goddess of love. Painted around 1485, possibly a wedding gift with the bride and groom as the models.” Rarely did art make Evelyn uncomfortable, but when it did it was hard to identify why, exactly.

Calling out the goddess of love made her want to fidget, for example, but if anyone asked why, she wouldn’t have been able to explain it.

Ollie appeared at her side and his closeness made her heart race. It seemed as if she were suddenly more aware of everything around her. “Lounging about with the goddess of love and he takes a nap? What a fool.”

“Perhaps Venus spent the morning tiring him out.”

Ollie’s eyebrows flew up to the ceiling. Evelyn gave him a coy smile before returning to the hallway, amused at being able to shock Ollie.

Ollie hurried to catch up to her. “Or maybe, it’s more that love conquers all? Even war?”

“Very perceptive, Ollie.” Evelyn smiled as she continued walking. “I was teasing you. You are correct.”

“Really?” Ollie beamed. “Usually, I’m the biggest idiot when it comes to art history.”

“Nonsense.”

“It’s true. Whenever you tell me about it, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I don’t absorb any of it, or very little at least. My brain gets all jumbled by history and facts, especially when you go into the science part of conservation.”

Evelyn paused and turned to him. “Regardless, you always seem so interested in what I’m telling you. In fact, you’re the only person I’ve known who listens to me for more than a minute.”

Ollie frowned slightly as he considered this. “That’s because I like listening to you talk.”

Evelyn blinked. “You do?”

He nodded. “You could talk to me about numbers and maths, the most mind-numbing subject in the world, and I would hang on to every word you utter. I wouldn’t understand any of it, but I’d hang on to your every word regardless.”

Feeling flushed, Evelyn thought back to the times she had prattled on and on about art history.

It hadn’t occurred to her that Ollie had truly listened.

She’d thought he’d been being polite because no one listened, yet she talked endlessly regardless.

If she started on about a subject that fascinated her and the listener was clearly bored, instead of stopping, she would go on about it more in a desperate, almost stubborn, attempt to get their attention.

But he was telling the truth, now that he mentioned it. She could envision it now, the way he would sit there at her desk, his chin in his hand, that funny sort of drunk look on his face as he watched her talk. It wasn’t boredom—it was interest.

But before they could continue their conversation, Evelyn saw the flash of a shadow in the hallway.

The air around them shifted. Evelyn grabbed Ollie’s forearm. “Did you see that?” she whispered, fearful. For she wasn’t quite sure if she had genuinely seen something. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but this museum was beginning to make her wonder.

Ollie lowered his voice. “No. What was it?”

“I don’t know.” Evelyn hesitated before taking a step toward the door and peeking out into the hall. The darkness seemed to take over like the London fog often did outside. It slid through the air, weightless, impenetrable.

“Stay here,” Ollie directed. “I’ll go see what it is.”

“Are you mad? I’m coming with you.”

His jaw clenched tightly. “I think it would be best if you stayed in here.”

“Absolutely not.” She punctuated this by crossing her arms in defiance.

“I swear I get into more trouble with you around than without.”

“And yet you don’t seem to mind the least bit.”

“I don’t, now that you mention it.”

Evelyn grinned, but before she could respond, received the fright of her life instead.

“You know…” a disembodied voice rang out from somewhere. “You two make me sick.”

Evelyn nearly jumped out of her skin and let out a yelp. Ollie leapt in front of her in the doorway. “Who’s there?” His voice growled with warning.

No one stepped forward, but a terrifying cackle echoed down the dark hallway. Evelyn stood on her tiptoes to look over Ollie’s shoulder and held on to him for balance. They waited for a long beat, but the man—most assuredly the Signature Swindler—said nothing further.

“You there!” Ollie shouted down the hall. Footfalls quickly receded. “Stay here,” Ollie said. “I’m going to drag this fool back.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Ollie swore, but there was no point in arguing. Together, they hurried down the hallway, the doorways to different rooms zooming by. Up ahead, a door opened and then slammed shut.

They stopped to catch their breath. It occurred to Evelyn how utterly foolish it was to be chasing a thief through a museum. They still didn’t know how dangerous he was. “We’re mad, aren’t we?” she said through heaving breaths.

Ollie laughed in agreement. “Better this with you than getting mud slung at me by Victor any day.”

Admittedly, this was kind of fun, in a slightly terrifying way.

They began running again through the darkness. Evelyn was several feet behind Ollie now, but running as fast as she could to keep up with him was the most invigorating feeling. It gave her an intense rush as their feet hit the ground hard and echoed through the building.

At a sudden sense of dread, Evelyn glanced back over her shoulder.

There was a brief flash of the midnight Volto mask. And then, nothing at all.