about my uncle's death, and no one could help us understand what happened."
he gazed up at the starry night and sat quietly for a long while.
amelia glanced at him and squeezed his hand. "what are you thinking?"
rick sighed. "when i was eighteen, i told my uncle that i wanted to be a detective. the memory of that day is so clear to me right now. we were standing inside the museum when i told him and he said: good! after you get your license, i want you to find out who stole thirteen works of art from boston's museum." he slid closer to her and wrapped his arm around her 