Amato sat down and fished an ice cube out of her water glass. She plopped it in her coffee. He’d worked with her for three days now and the only thing he knew about her was that coffee was always too hot for her taste.

She took a sip. “Zurich,” she said. “I think they went on to Zurich. They could have taken any number of trains from the station. The city is bigger. More places to fence the artwork. I say we head there.”

Vanek nodded. She could be right. It was logical, a good deduction. And yet …

The seed in his tooth. The nagging feeling that they were close.

“You could be right,” he said. “But first, let’s see what we can find in Lucerne.”

“I can’t do this,” Dan said.

Amy and Dan stood on an exclusive shopping street in Lucerne. Steps ahead they saw the stone front of the expensive boutique Ian had told them about. One item hung on a skeletal hanger in the window, something black and tiny that appeared to be a dress or a tunic, or maybe a shirt?

If she couldn’t even identify the clothing, how could she pass herself off as a fashionista?

“We just stole a painting and smuggled ourselves off a train,” Amy said, trying to sound confident. “And we can’t shop?”

“Don’t make me.” Dan gave her a mute look of appeal. “Can’t you do it?”

“No.” Amy felt her phone vibrate. She held it up. It was from Ian.

DON’T ASK THE PRICE OF ANYTHING. DON’T SMILE. DON’T SAY “DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING CHEAPER?” DON’T

Amy shoved the phone back in her pocket. “Just pretend to be Ian,” she told Dan. “Come on, the auction is in an hour.”

They pushed open the frosted glass door. There appeared to be about ten garments in the whole store, each separated by a foot of polished stainless steel rod. Amy stopped, confused. She was used to the cheerful jumble of fabrics and colors at the stores at the mall. But mostly she shopped on the Internet, finding one sweater she liked and ordering it in a couple of colors – usually navy, black, or gray. Last Christmas, when the Kabras had visited, Natalie’s eyes had flicked over her sweater and skirt and said, “Is this a holiday, Amy, or did somebody die?”