Die for Me

Chapter Twenty

Thursday, January 18, 9:55

P.M.

Wow.” Sophie blinked at the cars in Vito’s driveway. “What’s going on here?”

“I called a mini-family meeting,” Vito said and helped her out of the truck.

“This is a mini-family meeting? Why?”

“Several agenda items.” He looked up and down the street, his eyes narrowed, and Sophie shivered. He’d been doing that all the way from the precinct, not once relaxing his guard. But she’d watched him talking to Katherine. They’d made their peace.

Katherine had told him something, though. It was impossible to miss the questions in his dark eyes every time he looked at her. But Sophie had questions of her own, and he’d had not a spare minute to talk to her since waking that morning at four

A.M.

Even on the ride back to his house tonight, he’d been on his cell to Liz and Nick.

The state’s transportation unit had been busy over the last few hours, tracing oRo president Jager Van Zandt’s path down I-95 via tollbooth cameras and operators. Van Zandt had come to Philadelphia. Vito had found that very interesting and, on a purely intellectual level, so did Sophie. It was only clinging to that intellectual level that kept her from descending into abject fear. And fear wasn’t going to help anyone.

“What agenda items?” she asked and he turned her toward the driveway.

“The minivan belongs to my brother Dino, who’s here to see his five sons who have been staying at my house since Sunday. How long they’ll stay is one agenda item.”

“Five sons?”

Vito nodded. “Yeah. Five. It’s been interesting.”

She lifted a brow. “So now your wanting to sleep over at my house makes a lot more sense. You just wanted a good night’s sleep.”

“Like either of us have gotten one of those. Dino’s wife’s been in the hospital, so another agenda item is an update on when she’ll get out. The old VW is Tino’s. The Chevy is Tess’s rental car. The Buick is my father’s, and he’s here to meet you.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. “Your father is here? I’m meeting your father? I look awful.”

“You’re beautiful. Please. My dad’s a nice man and wants to meet you.”

Still Sophie held back. “So… where’s your bike?”

His brows lifted. “In the garage with my Mustang. If you’re a good girl I’ll let you see them later.” He hesitated. “Sophie, if this killer is watching you, he’s seen me. I need to make sure my family’s safe. That’s the last agenda item.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” she murmured. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am. Now, my ass is freezing off out here, so let’s go in.”

Sophie was swept inside a house filled with people. In the kitchen a woman with long, dark curls stood at the stove while a tall man with a little gray at his temples rocked a toddler on his shoulder. At the table a teenaged boy sat with open books, studying. On the sofa a brawny man with silver hair and a child on one knee sat watching a blaring TV. A second kid lay sprawled on his stomach on the living room floor, his eyes fastened to the screen, and a third sat by himself, obviously sulking.

The only person Sophie recognized was Tino, who looked like Sophie had always imagined the Renaissance artists looked with his long flowing hair and sensitive eyes.

Vito closed the door and all activity ceased. It was like she’d walked into a spotlight.

“Well, well.” The woman came to the kitchen doorway, a spoon in her hand and a smile on her face. “So this is the infamous Sophie. I’m Vito’s sister, Tess.”

Sophie had to smile back. “Deliverer of packages. Thank you.”

“Someday you’ll tell me what the significance of that toy is and what the heck is wrong with your receptionist. For now, welcome.” Tess drew her into the living room and introduced everyone rapidly. There were Dino and Dominic. The little boy was Pierce, the bigger boy was Connor, the sulking one was Dante.

Then the big man got up from the sofa and the room seemed suddenly smaller. “I’m Michael, Vito’s father. Tino’s sketch didn’t do you justice.”

Sophie blinked. “What sketch?”

“He wouldn’t stop until I drew your picture,” Tino said and took her hand. “How are you, Sophie? You had a bad shock.”

“Much better now, thanks.” She turned back to Vito’s father. “Your sons are talented and kind men. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’m also happy to finally see Vito with a woman. I was starting to worry that-”

“Pop,” Vito warned, and Sophie cleared her throat.

“Talented, kind, and manly men,” she revised and heard Tess snicker behind her.

Michael smiled and Sophie knew where Vito had gotten his movie-star looks. “Sit down and tell me about your family.”

Tess leaned against Vito’s arm as their father escorted Sophie to the sofa as regally as if it had been a throne. “You are so busted. He’s going to worm every last detail from her by the time you leave. Then I’ll worm the details from him.”

Vito found he didn’t really care. “Sophie can hold her own. We need to talk, Tess.”

The smile in her eyes faded. “I know. Tino told me the killer you’re chasing came to see Sophie yesterday. She’s got to be unnerved.” They sat down at the table with Tino, Dino, and Dominic. “So talk, Vito.”

“You’ve all seen the news. We’ve found a field with a lot of bodies. The man who put them there has been watching Sophie. I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

Dino nodded, his face grim. “And my boys? Are they in any danger?”

“There’s no indication the killer is paying attention to us cops. But he’s smart and knows we’re after him, so I can’t tell you no. I’ll stay away from here until this is over.”

Dino looked torn. “We can’t go back in the house until every square inch of carpet’s been replaced. I can look for a rental place between now and then, but it’ll take me a few more days. Nobody else in the family has a house big enough for all of us.”

“I know Mom and Pop had to sell their place, but I wish they’d done it a little later,” Tino grumbled. “We could have fit ten kids in there.”

But the old house where they’d grown up had stairs, and his parents’ condo was all on one floor, enabling Michael to conserve his energy. Hopefully, every bit would extend his father’s life a little longer, and Vito found himself wishing his father would live to see his own children, who in Vito’s mind had blond hair and bright green eyes.

“We could get a hotel,” Dino said doubtfully.

“No. I think you’re fine here, Dino, really. And when Molly gets out of the hospital you can use the top half of this house. I’ll move downstairs with Tino.”

“He’s right,” Tino said. “Tess and Dom and I will watch the boys, and soon Vito will save the day and we can all go back to normal craziness.”

“And I’ll stick around until Molly’s a hundred percent,” Tess said. “So don’t worry.”

“Your psychiatric practice,” Dino protested. “Your patients.”

“I have my patients covered. I don’t even have that many anymore. I’d cut back.”

Because she’d been trying for babies of her own, Vito realized with regret. Tess would make a great mother. If there was any justice, she’d have the family she wanted.

And so would Sophie. Vito stood up. “I’m going to pack a bag. Dino, plan on moving in whenever you want.”

Tino’s smile was sly. “Maybe big brother is so quick to offer his roof because he knows he’ll soon have another.”

“She’s a looker, Vito,” Dino added with a grin. He nudged Dom. “Don’t you think?”

Dominic blushed. “Stop,” he mumbled.

“He’s got his eye on a girl at school,” Dino said, and Dominic glared at his father.

Tess patted Dominic’s arm. “Relax, Dom, and get used to it. Just hope your grandfather doesn’t get wind of it or you’ll really get the third degree.”

“Third degree about what?” Michael asked, strolling into the kitchen. Without waiting for an answer he began pawing through drawers, messing everything up.

“What are you looking for, Dad?” Vito asked.

“Long-handled wooden spoons and those pointy things for holding corn. Sophie’s showing the boys how to make a trebuchet.”

“Like they needed another way to hurl things at each other,” Dino grumbled, but he got up to help his father look. “A trebuchet, huh? That’s actually pretty cool.”

Tino lifted a brow. “She’s got a fast bike, can make medieval siege weapons out of household items, and has nice… sweaters.”

Dino laughed. “She sounds like a keeper to me, Vito.”

“That’s my cue to exit. Tino, I’d appreciate a hand.” Vito had a granny-cam-related request and didn’t want to ask in front of Tess, who had an understandable aversion to hidden cameras, having been an unwilling victim a few years before.

When Vito returned, his father was on the sofa whittling something from a block of wood. Sophie was on the floor helping the boys build a fort from the books that had once been stacked neatly on his shelves. Pierce looked up, his little face flushed with excitement. “We’re building a castle, Uncle Vito, with a moat and everything.”

“I never said a moat, Pierce,” Sophie said. “Your uncle wouldn’t like having his living room flooded, so we’re not even going there.” Vito winced when Connor dumped another stack of books next to Sophie, but she just smiled sweetly up at the boy. “Thank you, Connor. How are we doing on that counterweight for the trebuchet, Michael?”

His father looked affronted. “Quality takes time, Sophie.”

“Edward the First only needed a few months to build the biggest trebuchet of all time, Michael,” she said dryly. “It could hurl three-hundred-pound weights. We’re only launching popcorn kernels, so hurry up.”

“We need to be going,” Vito said. “It’s the boys’ bedtime.” And mine, he hoped.

“Oh, Uncle Vitooooo,” Pierce whined. “Just a few more minutes.”

“Yeah, Uncle Vitoooo,” Sophie echoed, her whine even better than Pierce’s, and the two co-conspirators snorted with giggles. “Just let us finish the wall around the outer bailey.” She angled him an amused look. “It would go faster if you would help.”

She looked so happy, Vito couldn’t refuse. Folding himself into position on the floor, he looked around. “Where is Dante? He should be helping.”

“He didn’t wanna,” Pierce said. “He said he wasn’t feeling well.”

“He’s sick? Should he go back to the doctor? Maybe he was exposed to more of that mercury than you thought.” Vito started to get up, but his father shook his head.

“Dante’s physically fine. He’s just dealing with some issues right now.”

“Dante broke the gas meter,” Pierce said matter-of-factly.

Vito remembered the stark despair on the boy’s face when he’d found him crying on the back porch a few nights before. “I thought as much. How did it happen?”

“Neighborhood snowball fight with ice balls in the center for ballast,” Michael said. “One of the neighborhood boys told his mom and Dante had to come clean. On the bad side, he lied at first. Said he didn’t know how it happened. On the good side, Molly’s going to be okay and Dante has a future with the Phillies. The boy has a helluva arm.”

“He’s got two arms, Granpop,” Pierce said. “And you said the ‘H’ word.”

“Good strong arms they are, too,” Michael agreed. “And you’re right, I did use the ‘H’ word. I’m sorry, Pierce. I won’t do it again. Here’s your counterweight, Sophie.”

She’d been watching them with curiosity. “You’ll fill me in?” she asked Vito.

He let out a breath. “On a lot of things.”

Thursday, January 18, 11:35

P.M.

“It was nice of Tess to send dinner home with us,” Sophie said, scraping her plate clean. She sat naked on her bed while Vito lounged against the pillows watching her, simply because he could. She licked her fork. “It’s even good cold.”

“It wouldn’t have been cold if you’d have let us eat it when we first got back,” Vito teased. “But no, you’re a sex-starved fiend, dragging me up the stairs by my hair.”

She grinned and pointed her fork at him. “You’re gonna get it.”

He leered at her. “Promises, promises. Come here and pay up.”

Sophie’s grin faded. She carefully set their plates aside and Vito knew the moment of reckoning had arrived. “Speaking of paying up, it’s time to come clean, Ciccotelli. I want to know about the roses. I think I’ve waited long enough.”

“I know.” He sighed. “Her name was Andrea.”

Sophie’s cheeks grew dark. “And you’ll love her always.”

To deny it would be wrong. “Yes.”

Sophie swallowed. “How did she die?”

He hesitated, then let it out. “I killed her.”

Sophie’s eyes registered initial shock, then she shook her head. “Tell me the whole story, Vito. Start at the beginning.”

“I met Andrea through a case, the murder of a teenager. Andrea’s little brother.”

“Oh.” Her eyes grew sad. “It’s hard to lose family like that.”

Vito thought of Elle, the name Katherine had let slip, and wondered who she was. But it was his turn to come clean, and he was no welsher. “Nick and I were working the case, and I was attracted to Andrea. She was attracted, too, but she fought it at first.”

“Why?”

“Part of it was that she was still grieving. She was afraid she’d turned to me on a kind of emotional rebound. But there were other complications. Not only was she part of an active case, she was a cop, and I outranked her. But I pushed and pursued.”

One side of Sophie’s mouth lifted wryly. “I think I’ve witnessed that myself.”

“And I thought long and hard before I sent you that present. I didn’t want to push you if you really didn’t want to be pushed. But you fascinated me, Sophie.”

“You did it just right. You left it all up to me. But this isn’t about me, so continue.”

“Eventually I pushed enough that Andrea caved, but she was afraid her boss would find out. We decided to keep quiet until we figured out how far our relationship was going to go. Then we’d need to make some career decisions. Didn’t seem worth rocking the boat until we knew if we had something permanent.”

“But you thought you did.”

“Yes. After a few months, we decided we’d come clean with our bosses. Liz was mine, and I trusted her to help us find the best solution. Andrea’s boss wasn’t so magnanimous, and Andrea expected trouble. All through this, Nick and I had been working her little brother’s murder. Turns out her big brother did it. Andrea was devastated.”

“Why would one brother kill another?”

“Drugs. Big brother was a major meth user, little brother got in the way. The night she died, I’d just gotten home from her place when I got a call from Dispatch. A neighbor had seen Andrea’s older brother come back and called 911.” He sighed. “Later we found Andrea had given him money.”

Sophie winced. “She was helping him escape.”

“Yeah, but Nick and I didn’t know that. I never would have dreamed it even possible. We got to her place, had backup covering the exits. Andrea wasn’t even supposed to be there. She’d left her apartment when I did. She was on duty.”

“But she was there.”

Vito closed his eyes, remembering it all too clearly. “Yeah. She was there. Andrea’s brother heard us announce ourselves. We think Andrea tried to get him to surrender and when he wouldn’t she pulled her gun on him. But he hit her in the head with a chair. We found the chair with her hair and blood on it. Again, later. We evacuated the residents and stormed the apartment. Her brother started shooting.”

“He’d taken her gun.”

“Yeah. It was night by then and we trapped him in a stairwell. He shot out the light and it was… really dark. Nick turned on his flashlight and the punk bastard shot at him. Grazed Nick’s shoulder and Nick shut the light off. The brother kept firing. When our eyes got used to the dark we could see his outline, so we returned fire. After a minute he stopped firing and we turned our maglights back on. He was dead. So was she.”

She rubbed his arm. “Oh, Vito. He’d used his own sister as a shield?”

“We didn’t know. We didn’t even know she was in the building. He’d knocked her unconscious and was dragging her down the stairs. I guess he figured he’d have a hostage. If I’d allowed him to get outside, we would have seen her.”

“If you’d allowed him to get outside, he would have had a whole lot more targets, Vito. Every evacuated resident and every curious passerby. You contained him. I can’t imagine you were found at fault.”

“I wasn’t. There was an investigation, just like every time you fire your weapon. This one was deeper, because people died. A cop died.”

“Nobody found out about you and Andrea?”

“No. We’d done a really good job of being discreet. Only Nick knew, because I said something when I saw her lying on the stairs.” Covered in blood. “Tino knew, because I told him last year on the one-year anniversary. I was ploughed.”

“I can understand that.”

“Liz suspected. I didn’t know Katherine knew until last night.”

Sophie sighed. “For what it’s worth, she never would have mentioned it if she hadn’t been terrified for me. She’s a good keeper of secrets. Veritable cone of silence.”

Vito lifted a brow. “Not that veritable. She mentioned Elle.”

Sophie’s eyes rolled. “I guess the cone of silence has a crack.”

“Elle died,” Vito said. “She was your… what, sister?”

“How did you guess?”

“Katherine said that Anna finally gave up her touring when she realized ‘she’d been given another chance with Sophie and Elle.’” He shrugged. “Plus, I am a detective.”

“Not a good builder of trebuchets, though, but I’ll let that pass.”

He ran his fingertips along the fine line of her jaw. “Who was Elle, Sophie?”

“My half sister. She was born when I was twelve. I’d been in France for the summer and came home to find everyone in an uproar. Gran had been on tour when Lena dropped another bundle of joy into Harry’s arms. Elle wasn’t even a week old.”

“Your mother has the maternal instincts of a crocodile.”

“Crocodiles take much better care of their young. That was when Anna completely retired. She canceled all her engagements except for Orfeo, because it was in Philly.”

“So I really was lucky to have heard her when I did.”

“Yes, you were.”

“So Anna raised Elle.”

“Anna and I. Mostly me. Anna was never the maternal type. ‘Do something with this baby,’ she’d thunder when I got home from school, but I didn’t mind. Elle was mine.”

“The first time you truly had someone of your own?”

She smiled, very sadly. “Once again, I’m not that hard to figure out. Elle had some health problems, including a really serious food allergy, so I watched her like a hawk. Especially the times Lena would breeze back in. She was never careful with Elle.”

“Lena came back?”

“From time to time. She’d feel a little guilty, come back, hold Elle, then leave a day or two later. At the beginning I hoped Elle would be enough to make Lena finally settle down, even if she hadn’t for me. But she didn’t. Time passed, Elle got bigger.” Sophie’s mouth curved. “She was a beautiful child. Looked like a Botticelli angel with ringlets and these big blue eyes. My hair was straight as a board and I was tall and gawky, but Elle was truly stunning. People would stop and stare. And give her things.”

“Things? Like?”

“Usually harmless things like stickers or a doll. Sometimes they’d give her treats, which would scare me because she was so allergic. We had to read every label.”

Vito thought he could figure out where the story was going. “So one day Lena came back when you weren’t around and fed her the wrong thing.”

“The night of my senior prom. I’d never had many dates. I was always too busy with Elle. I’d even stopped going to France during the summers. But it was my prom. And my date was Mickey DeGrace.”

“He was something special, I take it,” Vito said dryly.

“I’d drooled over Mickey DeGrace all through high school. He’d never paid attention to me, but Trisha, Katherine’s daughter, got it in her mind that I needed a makeover. It worked, and for the first time in my life, Mickey was drooling over me. Prom night came, and we’d… well, we’d stepped away from the dancing. Mickey knew all the best make-out places in the school. I was just so thrilled to have him interested, I went with him.”

This was definitely not good, Vito thought. Dead sister guilt layered with the guilt of sexual experimentation. “What happened, Sophie?”

“We were… you know. Then I get this tap on the shoulder and I thought, ‘I’m gonna get expelled.’ I could see my college hopes dashed with my first and only indiscretion.”

“You were a virgin,” he said and she nodded.

“I think that was the draw for Mickey. He’d had all the other girls. I was fresh meat. Anyway, I was thinking of how I was going to explain… that… away, then I saw the teacher’s face and… I knew. She never even noticed Mickey pulling up his pants.”

“It was Elle. Lena had come.”

“Lena had come and taken Elle out for ice cream. The teacher rushed me to the ice cream parlor, but it was too late. Katherine was there, crying.” Sophie exhaled heavily. “She was zipping up the bag when I ran up, still in my prom dress. She looked up and saw me and…” Sophie shuddered.

“Just like on Sunday,” Vito said, and she nodded.

“Just like. Next thing I remember I was waking up right here. Uncle Harry was asleep, there.” She pointed to a chair. “Elle was dead. Lena had gotten her a sundae with extra nuts. Her throat swelled and she suffocated. Lena killed her.” She looked up, bitter anger in her eyes. “I’d say that’s a damn good reason to hate my mother, Vito.”

“Did Lena know she had an allergy?”

Sophie’s eyes flashed. “She might have had she stuck around long enough. I don’t know what Lena knew, but Elle wasn’t her child to just take. She was mine.”

Vito remembered Katherine’s words at the crime scene the Sunday before. “It was an accident,” she’d said. Vito wisely decided that although he agreed, he would not make the same mistake of telling Sophie so. “I’m sorry, honey.”

She drew a deep breath and let it out. “Thank you. It actually helps, telling it. After she died I was so depressed. I couldn’t stand being in this house. Everything reminded me of Elle. So Harry sent me to my father. Alex convinced me to stay in France, go to the university in Paris. That’s where I met Etienne Moraux. Alex had connections and cash to pay for my schooling. I had good grades, fluent French, and dual citizenship. I made a good assistant to Etienne, who was one of the leading archeologists in France.”

“So how did Brewster fit in the picture?”

“Anna wanted me to come home, so I applied at Shelton College for grad school. Alan Brewster was already a legend, and getting my grad degree under him would have been very, very prestigious.” She winced. “I didn’t mean that as a joke. Under him.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Vito said. “So you studied with Brewster and…?”

“Fell madly in love. Every time I’d try to date a guy my own age I’d think of Mickey DeGrace, and then Elle, so I didn’t date. Until Alan. He was the first man who didn’t remind me of Mickey. I thought he loved me. We were on a dig in France and Alan paid me attention. Pretty soon we were burning up the sheets in his tent. Then I found out Alan was married, that he slept with all his assistants and… that he talked about it. Freely. But he did give me an A,” she ended bitterly. “I was a ‘most able assistant.’”

He remembered the words coming from Brewster’s mouth and wished he’d hit the snake when he had the chance. Now Brewster was missing. Vito should probably have cared a little more. “Like I said. He’s an asshole. Move on.”

“I did, kind of. I ran back to Etienne, who found a place for me in his graduate program. I graduated and Anna wanted me to come home. I got a position with a college here in Philly, but between Amanda and Alan, I found myself either shunned or ridiculed. So I went back to France where it wasn’t an issue. I’d been working for months to be assigned the dig at Mont Vert castle, and then Harry called to tell me that Anna had a stroke. I dropped everything and finally came home.” She lifted her brows. “I found jobs with Ted and teaching at Whitman. And I met you.”

“But your father was rich. Why do you need the money so badly?”

“Alex left me an inheritance, but I’ve used most of it on nursing homes. That’s it.”

“Thank you for telling me.” He held out his arm and she snuggled against him.

“Thank you, too. Whatever happens with us, Vito, I won’t tell anyone about Andrea, although you have nothing to be ashamed of. She made her choice. You did your job.”

He frowned. He’d already decided what he wanted to happen. He’d wanted her the moment he’d met her, but he knew he wanted her permanently as he’d watched her make his nephews smile by launching popcorn kernels from a trebuchet made from a wooden spoon, a corn holder, and the counterweight his father had carved.

That she was uncertain troubled him. But there would be time to worry about that later. He pressed a kiss to her temple and turned off the light. “Let’s go to sleep.”

“Oh, Uncle Vitooooo,” she whined in the dark. “Do we have to?”

He chuckled. “Five more minutes.” Then sucked in a breath as her hand slid down his body and wrapped around him. “Or ten.” Her head disappeared under the covers and he closed his eyes in anticipation. “Or you could just take your time.”

Friday, January 19, 7:15

A.M.

“Hello?” Sophie called, letting herself into the Albright. “Anybody home?”

“It’s spooky in here when it’s dark,” Vito whispered. “All those swords and suits of armor. I’m expecting Fred and Velma and Scooby-Doo to pop out any minute.”

She shoved an elbow in his ribs and was gratified to hear him grunt. “Hush.”

Darla came out of the office, her eyes widening as she saw Vito. “Who’s this?”

Sophie unzipped her coat and turned on the lights. “Darla, Detective Ciccotelli. Vito, Darla Albright, Ted’s wife. Please tell Darla that I am not in trouble with the law.”

Vito shook hands with Darla. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Albright.” He dipped his head a little lower. “Sophie’s not in any trouble. She just is trouble.”

Darla chuckled. “Don’t I know it. Sophie, why are people driving you around?”

“Car trouble,” Sophie said, and Darla looked as unconvinced as Ted had.

“Uh-huh. It was nice to meet you, Detective. Sophie, you got a package. It was sitting out front when I came in.” She pointed to the counter, then returned to her office.

Sophie looked at the small brown box, then at Vito. “I’ve had one good and one bad package this week. Should I take the box or see what’s behind curtain number two?”

“I’ll open it,” Vito said, pulling on a pair of thin gloves. He opened the card and blinked. “This is either spy code or Russian.”

Sophie smiled as she read the note. “It’s Cyrillic. This is from Yuri Petrovich. ‘For your exhibit.’ Open it, please.” Vito did and Sophie gasped in shocked delight. “Vito.”

“It’s a doll,” he said.

“It’s a matryoshka. A nested doll.”

“Is it valuable?”

“Monetarily, no.” She lifted the first layer and found another note which made her throat close. “Sentimentally, it’s priceless. This belonged to his mother. It’s one of the few things he brought with him from Georgia. He wants to loan it to me for my Cold War exhibit. He was here yesterday, thanking me. I never dreamed he’d give me this.”

“Why was he thanking you?”

“I sent him a bottle of very good vodka through Barbara at the library. It was sitting on Gran’s bar, never been opened. I thought he’d appreciate it more than she could.”

“You’ve obviously made an impression on him, Sophie Alexandrovna,” Vito teased, then kissed her gently. “You made an impression on me, too.”

She smiled as she put the doll back in the box. “You want a tour?”

“Don’t have time. But,” he sobered, “I want you to show me where you saw Simon.”

Sophie led him to the wall with photos of Ted the First’s expeditions. “He was here.”

Vito nodded. “And he said exactly what?”

She told him. Then shook her head, staring at the place Simon had stood.

“What?” he asked. “Did you remember something else?”

“Yes, but not about Simon.”

“Then what, Sophie?” he asked softly. “Talk to me.”

“There’s a story about Annie Oakley, the sharpshooter. She was doing exhibitions for the crowned heads of Europe. One day Annie chose a volunteer from the audience and clipped the ash right off the end of the cigar he held between his teeth. Turned out it was the man who later became Kaiser Wilhelm. That part’s fact. The story goes on to say that Annie wished she’d missed, that she might have averted World War I.”

“It wouldn’t have,” Vito said. “One man didn’t start that war.”

“No, that’s true. But I think I understand a little about how Annie must have felt. When I saw Simon, I’d just finished the Viking tour,” she said softly. “I had a battle-ax on my shoulder and when he looked at me, I actually tightened my grip on the handle. He creeped me out. I controlled myself of course. Now, I wish I hadn’t.”

Vito gripped her shoulders and turned her to him. “Sophie, he’s killed so many. You couldn’t have stopped that. And I wouldn’t want you to live with the image of your ax in his head. Let us catch him. Then you can stare at him through prison bars, okay?”

“Okay,” she murmured, but thought the image of the head of her ax in the head of the man who’d killed so many was a damn appealing one.

Friday, January 19, 8:00

A.M.

Vito tossed the box of doughnuts on the table. “I hope you’re satisfied.”

Jen peered inside the box. “These aren’t from the bakery in your neighborhood.”

Vito narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t make me hurt you, Jen.”

She grinned at him. “I never thought you’d actually bring more doughnuts. I was just being a squeaky wheel.”

“And speaking of squeaky wheels,” Nick said, dropping into one of the chairs, “the boys in electronics think that one sound on the tape-the one that sounds like a spooky, echo-y squeaky wheel? They think it’s a pulley in an elevator shaft.”

“So we’re looking for a building that might be a church that might have an elevator.” Jen took out a frosted doughnut. “That could actually narrow it down a little bit.”

The rest of the team filed in and took their places around the table, Liz, Nick, and Jen on one side, Katherine and Thomas Scarborough on the other. Vito walked to the whiteboard and wrote “Zachary Webber” in the third square on the first row before taking his seat at the head of the table. “That leaves two victims we need to identify.”

“Not bad, Vito,” Liz said. “I never thought you’d have identified seven of the nine in less than a week. Since you’ve got nearly all the victims ID’d, I reassigned Bev and Tim. I had other caseloads building.”

“They were a big help,” Nick said. “And we will miss them,” he added mournfully, then perked up. “But since they’re not here, it’s more doughnuts for us.”

“A man after my own heart.” Jen grinned. Licking her fingers, she slid a sheet of paper toward Vito. “According to the geologists at the USDA, those are the areas in a one-hundred-mile radius where the soil we found in the graves commonly occurs.”

Vito shook his head at the map. “This doesn’t help. This is hundreds of acres.”

“Thousands,” Jen said. “Sorry, Vito, it’s the best we can get at this point.”

“What about the silicone lubricant?” Vito asked, and Jen shrugged.

“I sent copies of the formula to every mom-’n’-pop shop in the back of that magazine you got from Dr. Pfeiffer. I haven’t heard back from any of them yet. I’ll follow up today.”

“Katherine?”

“I sent a request to the Dutton ME for the death certificate on Simon Vartanian. And I’ve started the procedure for exhumation of whoever’s buried in Simon’s tomb.”

“When will they start digging?” Liz asked.

“Hopefully sometime this afternoon. Agent Vartanian smoothed the way with a few phone calls last night after they left.”

Vito looked around the table. “Daniel and Susannah Vartanian. Opinions?”

“They were genuinely shocked to learn that Simon was still alive,” Thomas said. “But it was curious that they didn’t ask questions about how we’d found their parents.”

“Maybe they thought we wouldn’t tell them,” Jen said.

Nick shook his head. “I would have asked. Especially with the news coverage we’ve gotten on this case. It’s no secret that we found a shitload of bodies up there. Even covering the area with a tarp, we’ve had flyovers and aerial shots on the news and Daniel has been in Philly for a few days now. If it’d been me, I would’ve wanted to know if my folks were part of that big graveyard. But the Vartanians didn’t even ask.”

“I might have asked,” Jen said. “Then again, maybe I wouldn’t want to know.”

One corner of Liz’s mouth lifted. “We did get some good news. Greg Sanders’s ex-girlfriend showed up last night for his memorial service. She’d been hiding from his creditors. All that damage to her apartment was done by people to whom Greg owed a lot of gambling debts. Mr. Sanders said he’d pay his son’s debts to keep Jill safe.”

“Cleaning up after Greg even after death,” Vito murmured. “I wonder how much Simon’s father was cleaning up after him versus covering his own ass. What else?”

“Analysis on the Claire Reynolds letters,” Jen said. “The handwriting expert I talked to said he was ‘reasonably sure’ the same person had signed both letters.”

“Oh,” Vito remembered. “We got handwriting samples from oRo-Van Zandt’s and his secretary’s. You can get the expert to compare them to the signatures, too.”

“Will do. Now, regarding that letter requesting Claire’s records, from a Dr. Gaspar in Texas? There is no such person. The address itself was a veterinarian.”

Liz tilted her head, puzzled. “Did they receive Claire’s records?”

“Don’t know, I’ll call today. The lab ran a check on the ink. Same ink on both letters. Of course it’s the same ink that you’d find on a million other pieces of paper across the city, but it is the same brand name, same printer model. It’s something.”

“Prints?” Vito asked.

Jen scoffed. “On the resignation letter? Tons. You’ll probably never sort them out. But on the doctor’s letter, only a few sets. Who would have touched it?”

“Pfeiffer and his receptionist. We’ll get them printed and eliminate their prints.”

“I’ll run them through as soon as they come in,” Jen said.

“Did you get Sophie to look at that brand on the Sanders kid’s face?” Nick asked.

Vito frowned. He’d dropped that ball. “No, things got too crazy that night with her hearing the tape. I’ll ask her today.”

“Did you run a check on that student who asked her about branding?” Nick asked.

“What student?” Liz wanted to know.

Vito’s frowned deepened. “No. With all the oRo commotion yesterday, I didn’t. Sophie said one of her students mentioned branding a few days ago, but she also said he was a paraplegic in a wheelchair.”

“Give me the guy’s info,” Liz said. “I’ll run a check. You track down Simon.”

“Thanks, Liz.” Vito focused on organizing his thoughts. “The only people who we know have actually seen Simon other than his victims are oRo employees, specifically Derek Harrington and Jager Van Zandt, and they’re both gone.”

“And Dr. Pfeiffer,” Katherine said. “If Claire crossed Simon’s path through the orthopedist, then Pfeiffer’s seen him, too.”

Vito’s smile was sharp. “You’re right. We’ll need a court order for Simon’s medical records. Names we should request? I doubt he signed in as Simon Vartanian.”

“Frasier Lewis,” Nick counted on his fingers. “Bosch, Munch.”

“Warhol, Goya, Gacy…” Jen shrugged. “All the paintings the Vartanians said Simon had on his walls and under his bed as a kid.”

Nick was writing the names down on his notepad. “We also need to find that second blackmailer. If she was involved with Claire, she might know if Claire knew where Simon lived. Maybe Claire followed him home from the doctor’s office one day.”

“So we look for that newspaper photo,” Vito said.

There was a knock on the door and Brent Yelton stuck his head in. “Can I come in?”

Vito waved him in. “Please. What do you have?”

Brent sat down and set his laptop on the table. “I’ve gone through Kay Crawford’s computer with a fine-tooth comb. She’s the model that Simon didn’t get his hands on. I found the virus he’d planted. It’s what I thought-a time-delayed Trojan that’s activated by an e-mail reply. The drive I was using when I replied to her original e-mail from ‘Bosch’ was wiped this morning, so it’s about a day delay.”

“Any response to our acceptance of his job offer?” Liz asked.

“Nope. Nor has there been any activity on her résumé on UCanModels’ site. He seems to have lost interest in her, which is good for her and bad for us.”

“She’s alive,” Vito said. “That’s more than we can say for the others.”

“Speaking of the others,” Brent said, “I have something to show you. I got a call from the computer forensics guy that works with those two NYPD detectives.”

“Carlos and Charles,” Nick said.

“Carlos and Charles?” Liz laughed. “That’s almost as good as-”

“Yeah, yeah, Nick and Chick.” Vito rolled his eyes. “We thought of that already. So what did the computer guy tell you?”

“Not what he told me as much as what he gave me.” Brent turned his laptop around so Vito and the others could see. “Cut scenes they found on CDs in Van Zandt’s desk.”

Horrified, they watched. “It’s Brittany Bellamy,” Vito murmured as the girl in the scene was dragged to an inquisitional chair. They watched in silence, listened to the girl’s screams until Brent reached forward to cut it off. “It gets a lot worse,” he said, his jaw tight. “Warren Keyes is on the second CD, getting stretched on a rack and then…”

“Disemboweled,” Katherine said grimly.

Brent swallowed. “Yes. Bill Melville is on the third CD, but his isn’t a cut scene. It’s game play. The player is the inquisitor and fights Bill, who’s a knight. The action is incredible. The game physics are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Would the guy who did the game physics,” Vito said, “the one Van Zandt lured away from another company-would he have worked with Simon to produce this?”

“Not necessarily. The beauty of a game engine is that it’s like this repository of movement. Running, jumping, jabbing-it’s all programmed in, like a framework. The artist decides the character’s attributes, height, weight, and the game engine takes all the movements in its brain and creates the action figure that moves the right way. A light person moves spryly, while a heavier person clomps. The artist will then create a face in another program and import it to the action figure’s form. It’s like building a moving person from the skeleton out. Once the game physics guy designed the engine Simon could have worked independently, especially with his knowledge of computers.”

“That’s amazing,” Jen murmured, then blinked, embarrassed. “Sorry. I get sidetracked by the techie stuff. So is Bill killed with a flail?”

“Yes and… yes. In the main version he’s hit and buckles at his knees. Boring. But if you use this…” Brent held up a sheet of paper. It was a copy of a smaller sheet with numbers written on it. “It unlocks an Easter egg. A ‘gift’ from the programmer to the gamer. This Easter egg shows Bill Melville getting the top of his head knocked off.”

“Just like he was really killed,” Katherine murmured.

“Let me see that paper,” Nick said and frowned down at it. “This wasn’t written by Van Zandt. If you compare it to the note he left us, the writing is different.” He looked over at Vito. “We could be looking at a genuine copy of a Simon Vartanian original.”

Vito chuckled. “Jen, have your handwriting guy compare that writing to the signature on the letter, too. It’s numbers versus letters, but maybe he can match something. Good job, Brent. What else?”

“The church. You know how Simon mentioned a church on the tape? Well, after the fight scene where Bill Melville dies, it goes to a cut scene. You go into a crypt and see two tomb effigies. Woman’s hands folded in prayer, the man holding a sword.”

“Warren and Brittany,” Vito said. “What then?”

“Well, you’re in a crypt, which is attached to a church. And from the church you descend to the dungeon.”

Vito sat up. “You mean he shows the church?”

Brent winced. “Yes, but no. The church itself is a model of a French abbey, a famous one. Simon doesn’t create, but he does one hell of a copy job.”

“So is he killing in a church, or were his references on the tape just symbolic?” Vito asked. “Thomas?”

“I’m betting they’re symbolic,” Thomas said. “Most churches around here wouldn’t have the look he wanted anyway, he’s so stuck on authenticity. And anything that big is going to be in a neighborhood or close to people. People would hear, and he said ‘no one can hear you.’ But, on the off chance I’m wrong, we could check churches that are built in areas on Jen’s USDA soil map.”

“Okay.” Vito considered. “We have our next steps. Exhume whoever’s buried in Simon’s tomb, just to be sure it’s not him. Get Simon’s records from Dr. Pfeiffer. Find that second blackmailer. Check out Sophie’s student and the churches on Jen’s map. And find Van Zandt. He was on the turnpike in Pennsylvania yesterday, and according to Charles and Carlos, he hasn’t come back to his place in Manhattan yet. They put an APB on him, including all the airports, in case he tries to skip the country.” Vito looked around the table. “Anything else?”

“Just that Kay Crawford sends her thanks,” Brent said. “She doesn’t know much about the investigation, but she knows enough to understand she barely escaped from something very bad. She wanted me to tell you all thank you.”

“And did she thank you?” Liz asked him, mild amusement in her eyes.

Brent tried to bite back his smile but wasn’t successful. “Not yet. She asked me to dinner and I told her I’d go when this was all over. Hey,” he protested when Nick snickered, “how else would a guy like me get to go out with a hot six-foot-tall blonde?”

Vito’s smile disappeared. “What?”

Brent looked around. Everyone was frowning. “She’s a tall blonde. What did I say?”

“Do you have a picture of her?” Nick asked.

“Just the one on the UCanModel site.” Brent pulled it up and Vito’s heart stopped.

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

“What?” Brent demanded.

Nick’s face was grim. “She looks like Sophie Johannsen.”

Jen looked ill. “Now we know why Simon’s lost interest in this model.”

“Because he’s picked Sophie instead.” Katherine’s voice trembled. “Vito.”

“I know.” Vito swallowed back his fear. “Liz, we-”

“I’ll send a uniform to the museum,” Liz said. “Sophie will have 24/7 protection until we have Simon in custody. He won’t touch her, Vito.”

Shakily, Vito nodded. “Thanks. Let’s go. Stay safe. And let’s find him. Please.”