"Feeling inspired?" Gisella smiles, as they drive back into town.

"Yeah," Emily grins, glancing at her. "Thanks, that was amazing. I forgot how much I love traveling."

"I think sometimes we Italians take for granted how beautiful it is here," Gisella replies, staring out the window at the scenery.

Emily chuckles.

"It comes with any home town, or country, I think," she shrugs. "People are always so enamored with the States, but for the people who live there it just seems like old news."

"America always seems so special," Gisella nods. "Land of opportunity, no?"

"Apparently," Emily replies dryly.

She wishes she could talk to Gisella about how she spent her youth traveling around the world; of how she's lived in countries like Ukraine and Saudi Arabia and England; of how, in truth, she hasn't really spent that much time in her native America.

But she has to pretend that, as Lauren, she grew up in Connecticut and New York, and that Italy and the UK are the only other countries she's seen.

"You should travel more," Gisella says, coincidentally.

Emily smiles.

"I have family in Malta and in Greece," Gisella goes on. "I take Luca whenever I can. I want him to see the world."

Emily smiles warmly, glancing into the backseat where both babies are sleeping soundly.

"Me too," she murmurs. "I want Violet to see everything."

"Then you must follow your heart," Gisella grins. "Wherever it tells you to go."

They drive in comfortable silence for awhile, admiring the countryside that surrounds their little town.

Gisella's phone rings and she begins speaking rapid Italian with her husband, telling him of their impromptu trip to Naples.

Emily looks again, this time in the rearview mirror, at Violet, sleeping in her car seat.

The baby's impossibly long lashes rest upon her plump, satiny cheek.

It makes Emily smile, just looking at her, and she imagines what kind of person her daughter will grow up to be; if Emily will end up moving her around all the time; if they'll be close or not. She likes to imagine Violet's life being pain-free and perfect, but she knows it's unreasonable.

She knows that she herself will never tire of hunting down the aptly named 'bad guys,' and that she'll keep going, no matter what, so she can feel like she's making Violet's world a better place.


At home, Emily sets Violet in her crib. She's slept through her usual dinner time; the excitement of the day trip had made Violet skip her usual nap time. Her sleep in the car has stretched on and Emily knows it means that she's in for a late night tonight.

She reads some emails while Violet sleeps, replying to Sia and Clyde, catching up and reading intently about their latest cases. Part of her misses the thrill of the job, but a bigger part of her wouldn't want to be anywhere but with her baby.

She replies to Sia, congratulating her on her recent success with a particularly difficult case and then takes a cup of tea, a book, and the baby monitor out to the backyard.

She sits at her patio table and looks out at the countryside, dimly lit by the intensely starred sky.

Gisella was right - people do take their known environment for granted. Emily still marvels at the Italian scenery but, growing up, she'd become immune to the foreign allure of her homes. Everything was old news.

She smiles, remembering Violet staring around the museum today; dazzled by the sights around her.

The phone rings, bringing her out of her trance.

"Hi Mom," she answers.

She sits and listens to her mother tell her, in detail, about the impossibly long day she's had at work; the new assistant who can barely speak French; the incompetent ambassador for the US; and the ridiculousness of a grown adult's ability to act like a child.

"How he rose to that position is far beyond me," Elizabeth finishes, rolling her eyes about a particular coworker. "Perhaps I should apply for a new post."

Emily chuckles. It's not the first time her mother has hinted at living closer to Emily and Violet.

As much as she loves her mother, she loves her a lot more when she's a few countries away.

"I think you'll find that with any job, Mom," Emily tells her. "No job is free of idiots."

"Unfortunately," Elizabeth sighs. "How is my darling granddaughter?"

"Sleeping."

"Sleeping," Elizabeth repeats, confused. "It's 6:00 down there."

"We made a little day trip to Naples, with Gisella and Luca," Emily explains. "Her nap got delayed and she hasn't woken up yet."

"Well that sounds lovely," Elizabeth smiles. "What did you see?"

Emily tells her mother about their day, making sure to add little details that she wouldn't mention to other people, since no one else adores Violet the way her mother does. She tells her of the way Violet had shrieked with glee when a woman walking an Italian mastiff had walked by and Violet had wanted to touch him; or how her eyes had widened, even larger in her perfect face, when they'd stood before Pompeii.

"Already has a taste for history, it seems," Elizabeth teases. "Like mother, like daughter."

Emily smiles.

"I think she was just taken by all of the things she'd never seen before," Emily replies. "Though I love that she's not afraid of dogs. This one was the size of a small horse and she just wanted to grab him. The owner just laughed. She said most people in general are scared of her dog."

"That baby has an old soul," Elizabeth replies, missing her granddaughter viscerally.

"I think you're right," Emily murmurs.

It's quiet for a moment and then Violet announces her awakening through the baby monitor.

"Well, speak of the angel," Elizabeth says.

Emily stands up, gathering her book and mug.

"She's probably pretty hungry," Emily says, going inside.

"Alright, sweetheart, I'll let you go," Elizabeth says. "Kiss my girl for me. I love you."

"Love you," Emily replies.

She sets everything down and pads down the hall to Violet's room.

She finds her daughter sitting up, content as she sucks on her soother.

She'd stopped announcing her wake ups with cries around five months, and since then, save for the nights of painful teething or not feeling well, Violet usually wakes up and just babbles to herself until her mother comes to get her.

"Hi sweetpea," Emily smiles, approaching the crib.

Violet smiles through her soother, reaching her arms up happily.

Emily wraps her in her arms, inhaling her sweet smell as she kisses her cheek.

"That was a long sleep, huh?" she murmurs.

She carries Violet to her change table and plucks out the soother. She only lets her have it to sleep with, not wanting her to become attached.

"Did you have fun in Naples today?" Emily talks to Violet as she changes her diaper.

Violet replies with a string of her own words.

"You were such a good girl," Emily says. "Do you remember the big dog?"

Violet sucks on her fingers, her cheeks slightly red from teething.

Emily carries her out to the kitchen and feeds her, before they go sit in the living room, where Emily keeps all of Violet's toys. She refuses to let the TV be the babysitter. She wants Violet to play with puzzles and books rather than stare at the screen.

The long day proves to be too much for Violet, though, and after an hour of playing she's rubbing her eyes, ready for sleep. Emily is all too willing to turn in.


Emily's eyes open. She lays there and waits. She assumes she woke up because she heard Violet, but several moments pass and the baby makes no noise.

Frowning, Emily rolls over and looks at the clock. It's 3:42 in the morning.

She gets up and goes quietly to Violet's room, wondering if her daughter is awake but just being quiet. But she finds her baby fast asleep; her tiny form visible by the dim nightlight.

Suddenly she hears a crack, quiet but close by, as though someone is in her backyard.

She freezes and listens.

She hears the sound of something hitting the patio floor outside.

Automatically, she walks back to her bedroom. She's quick and silent. She reaches underneath her side table, where she has one of her guns hidden, its holster screwed into the underside of the top drawer.

She clicks the safety off and heads towards the hallway, her pulse quickening.

She steps into Violet's room and double-checks the locks on the windows. They're locked, as usual.

She leaves her baby's room and goes towards the noise. Quiet footsteps and the crackle of twigs and leaves.

It's too dark for anyone who doesn't know the layout of her house to get around, but she's lived here long enough to not need lights to know exactly where to step and where to turn. Moonlight gently lights up the living room and kitchen. She pauses near a corner to stare out the patio doors.

Her pupils dilate, trying to see every last detail.

It's silent.

Emily steps forward, towards another corner, her gun at her hip and ready.

Could someone have found her? A past job coming back to get revenge? Or is it just someone hoping to rob the place?

She focuses on the patio door knobs, grateful when she sees that she did, in fact, lock them before bed.

She hears another crunch of footsteps as she steps towards the doors.

She peers through the slit of door and curtain where she can see a small area of the patio.

A shadow moves to her right, near the trees that hold the hammock.

She expertly controls her breathing, despite her heightened pulse, and reaches for the doorknob.

She slowly turns the handle and tightens her grip on the gun.