Die for Me

Chapter Four

Philadelphia, Sunday, January 14, 10:30

P.M.

Vito watched as Katherine wheeled away another body in a bag, the third they’d recovered so far. He’d been male, about the same age as the “Knight” as the first man had been dubbed. The name was inevitable once word had spread among the team that the archeologist said the victim’s hands had been posed to hold a sword. The woman they’d uncovered that morning had become the “Lady.”

He wondered what they would call this last victim. The third victim had lain with his arms at his sides. Well, kind of. One arm lay straight, but the other was mangled at the shoulder, barely attached at the joint and rotated so that the palm faced outward. The man’s head was in worse shape. What little that remained was unrecognizable.

“It’s late,” Vito said. “We’ve got uniforms on guard duty. I say we call it a night.”

“So, we meet back here tomorrow at first light?” Nick asked.

Vito nodded. “Then we begin to ID the victims. Katherine should have the initial exams done by morning. The autopsies could take days.”

Jen looked around. “Where is Sophie?”

Vito pointed to his truck where Johannsen sat sideways on the passenger side, her door wide open. She’d been there for about a half hour. He’d worried she’d freeze, then tried to put her out of his mind, figuring she’d have shut the door if she got too cold. But he’d been unsuccessful in pushing her out of his thoughts or his sight. He’d watched her as they’d worked. Seeing the Knight had rocked her. Still she’d worked steadily.

But something else had happened. When Katherine had zipped the body bag shut, Sophie looked like she’d seen a ghost. Whatever memory the body had triggered, it had been substantial enough to send Katherine to her side. And the two had exchanged angry words, that much had been crystal clear.

From then on, he’d watched her even more closely. It was simple curiosity, he told himself. Or perhaps nosiness was more accurate, as Katherine claimed. He wanted to know what had happened, both today and on whatever day she’d been remembering.

But he probably would never find out. He’d take her back and that would be that. Still, the sight of her sitting in his truck tugged at him. She sat with her knees up under her coat, much as she had earlier in the day. She looked young and very much alone.

“Are we finished with her?” Vito asked.

Jen nodded, looking at the printout of Sophie’s scan. “She did an incredible job.” Stakes and flags were arranged in four rows of four plots, every plot the same exact size, rows and columns spaced with military precision. “We just have to start digging.”

When Vito got close to the truck he noticed she’d loaded and secured the two big cases into the truck bed, all by herself. They’d been heavy when he’d done it earlier. She must have some muscle under her field jacket. He thought about how she’d felt those few seconds she’d leaned against him and wondered what else he’d find under her jacket, but again, he’d probably never find out.

When Vito got close to Sophie, his heart squeezed. Tears slid down her cheeks in a steady flow as she stared at the field with its stakes and flags. She’d seen things that rocked most seasoned cops. But she’d stayed the course. He respected that.

He cleared his throat and she turned her head to look at him. She wiped at her cheeks with her sleeve but made no attempt to hide the tears or apologize for them. Vito respected that, too. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

She nodded and drew a shuddering breath. “Yes.”

“You did good today.”

She sniffled. “Jen showed you the scan?”

“Yes. Thank you. It’s very thorough and very well done. But that’s not what I meant. You held up under terribly stressful conditions. Most people wouldn’t have.”

Her lips trembled and her eyes filled anew. She swallowed hard as she turned her back to stare at the field, visibly fighting for composure. Patiently he waited and when she spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper. “When Katherine called me today, I had no idea it would be like this. Nine people. My God. It’s unreal.”

“You marked seven of the plots as empty. Are you sure?”

She nodded, her tears slowing. “The seven empty ones are air pockets. But every one of them is covered with something thick and solid. Probably wood.” She looked at him, her eyes filled with horror and pain. “My God, Vito. He planned to kill seven more.”

“I know.” The scan had given them not only the lay of the land, but insight into the mind of a killer. Vito knew the insight would be valuable when he’d had enough sleep to consider it. “I’m beat,” he said. “You must be, too. Let me take you home.”

She shook her head. “I have to take the equipment back to the university and get my bike. Besides, you must have plans of your own tonight. A family to get home to.”

He thought of the roses, wilted now. He’d buy another bouquet and go to the cemetery next week. It wasn’t like Andrea would care one way or another. The flowers and the visit, he knew, were really for himself. “I don’t have plans.” He hesitated, then let the words come. “Or anyone waiting for me.”

Their eyes held and he could see she’d taken his words the way he’d meant them. He watched her throat work as she tried to swallow. “Well, then I’m ready to go when you are.” She was buckling herself in when he slid behind the wheel, then dug into a pocket and pulled out what, in the shadow of the cab, looked like a cigar. “Want one?”

He started the engine with a frown. “I don’t smoke.”

“I don’t either,” she said glumly. “Anymore, anyway. But you’d have trouble lighting this. It’s beef jerky. Good field food. Doesn’t spoil. And surprisingly, overrides the taste that’s been in my mouth all day.” She shrugged. “Temporarily, anyway.”

He took one of the sticks. “Thanks.”

As he munched, she dug into her pocket again, this time pulling out a drink box, like his nephews packed in their lunchboxes. He glanced over and made a face when the letters on the label registered. “Chocolate milk? With beef jerky?”

She stabbed the box with a little straw. “Calcium’s good for the bones. Want one?”

“No,” he said firmly. “That’s gross, Dr. Johannsen.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.” She paused deliberately. “Vito.” She stared out the window as she sipped. When she was done, she put the box in a baggie, sealed it, and put it back in her pocket.

“So your field jacket serves as a trash receptacle, too?”

She glanced at him, embarrassed. “Habit. Can’t be leaving litter around the dig.”

“So what other foodstuffs do you keep in your pockets?”

“A couple of Ho Hos, but they’re a little squashed. They still taste good, though.”

“You like chocolate, I take it.”

“Duh.” She looked wary. “Don’t tell me you don’t. I was just starting to like you.”

He laughed and the sound surprised him. He hadn’t thought he had enough energy left to laugh. “I can take it or leave it. But my brother Tino, he’s an addict. Milk, dark, white, chocolate chips to Easter bunnies, Tino inhales it.”

She was smiling at him and once again he found himself mesmerized. Even with eyes red from crying, she drew him. “You have a brother named Tino? Really?”

He forced himself to focus on driving. “I have three brothers, but you have to promise not to laugh.”

Her eyes were laughing even as she firmed her mouth sternly. “I promise.”

“My older brother is Dino and my two younger brothers are Tino and Gino. Our sister is Contessa Maria Teresa, but we just call her Tess. She lives in Chicago.”

Her lips twitched. “I’m not laughing. I’m not even going to make any Mafia jokes.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly. “What about you? Any family in the area?”

She went still and he knew he’d touched a nerve. “Just my grandmother and my uncle Harry. And my aunt Freya, of course.” She’d added her aunt almost in afterthought. “And a few assorted cousins, but we’ve never been close.” She smiled again, but it was wistful. “Sounds like your family is. Close, that is. That’s nice.”

She sounded lost and once again his heart squeezed. “It is nice, although at times it’s very noisy. My family’s in and out of my house like Grand Central Station. Tino actually rents the apartment in my basement, so he’s a permanent fixture. There are some times I pray for silence.“

“I think if you truly had silence, you’d wish for noise,” she murmured.

He stole another look at her. Even in the darkness of the cab he could see the weary loneliness on her face, but before he could say a word she straightened her spine and dug into her pockets for more beef jerky.

“How long before I don’t taste… that anymore?” she asked.

“Hopefully in a few hours. Maybe by tomorrow.”

“You want another one?”

He grimaced. “No thanks. You wouldn’t happen to have a burger or fries in one of those pockets, would you?” he added lightly and was relieved when she smiled at him.

“Nope. But I do have a cell phone, a camera, a compass, a box of paintbrushes, a ruler, two emergency flares, a flashlight, and… a box of matches. I can survive anywhere.”

He found himself chuckling. “It’s a wonder you could walk. Your coat must weigh fifty pounds.”

“Close. I’ve had this coat for a lot of years. I hope I can get it clean.” Her smile faded and the haunted look returned. “L’odeur de la mort,” she said quietly. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but no words came, so he said nothing at all.

Sunday, January 14, 11:15

P.M.

Vito stopped his truck in front of the funky ape sculpture. “Dr. Johannsen.” He gently shook her shoulder. “Sophie.”

She woke with a jerk and in her eyes he saw an instant of disoriented fear before she realized where she was. “I fell asleep. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. I wish I could have.”

Shaking herself to full attention, she was out of his truck before he could come around to help her. But her shoulders sagged. He took the two small cases from behind her seat. “You go on up and open the door. I’ll carry these.”

“Normally I carry my own gear, but tonight I’ll say thank you.” He followed her up to the door, remembering earlier this afternoon, the long look they’d shared. Her hands faltered as she unlocked the front door and he hoped she was remembering it, too. But she opened the door without mishap this time and flipped on a light switch. “You can leave the cases there. I can get them downstairs myself.”

“Just show me where to put them, Sophie,” he said. “And I’ll go get the other two.”

There was a fine line between independence and stubbornness, Vito thought as he went back to his truck for the two big cases. It seemed Sophie Johannsen walked the sensible side, although he suspected it was only out of sheer exhaustion. She’d allowed him to take the small cases to a basement storeroom, but was adamant that she had to clean the equipment tonight.

He took the two big cases from the back of the truck and set them on the sidewalk. He had no idea how long cleaning the equipment would take, but the campus was deserted and he sure as hell wasn’t leaving her here alone. Besides, there were way worse fates than watching Sophie Johannsen, so he’d wait as long as he needed to.

He looked down at his muddy boots. If he had to wait, he could at least be comfortable. Reaching behind his seat, he felt for his shoes-and once again came up with the roses. They gave him pause. At least this time they hadn’t pricked him.

He’d bought them for the woman he once thought he could love forever, who died two years ago. Today. He’d waited two years. Surely that was long enough. But…

Vito sighed. He was attracted to Sophie Johannsen. No man with a pulse wouldn’t be. But it wasn’t the attraction that was bothering him. It was the need he’d felt all day, at the field, in the truck. He’d watched her work and weep and she made him want. Maybe all that sudden yearning was because it was today. He didn’t want to think so, but Vito was a careful man. He’d pushed a relationship once before and the results had been disastrous. He didn’t make the same mistake twice.

Vito tossed the roses behind the passenger seat and changed into his shoes. He’d take Sophie home, then come back in a few weeks and he’d see if she still made him want. If she did, and if she felt the same, nothing would hold him back.

“I thought you’d gotten lost,” she said when he put the two big cases down inside the storeroom. She was bent over a worktable, scrubbing one of the pieces with a toothbrush. “This could take a while. Go home, Vito. I’m fine here.”

Vito shook his head. The reason he’d picked her up at the college in the first place was because she didn’t have a car. She rode a bike, Katherine had said. He wasn’t about to let her ride her bicycle home at this time of night after working all day. “No, I’ll see you home safely. It’s the least I can do,” he added when her mouth set stubbornly. He tried a different tack. “Look, I’ve got a sister and I’d want somebody to see her home.” Her green eyes narrowed as she shot a look of annoyed reproach, so he fell back on the tried and true with a sigh. “I’m tired. Don’t argue with me. Please.”

Her frown relaxed and she chuckled. “Now you sound like Katherine.”

He thought about the angry words the two had shared that afternoon, then the way Katherine had smoothed the hair from Sophie’s face before sending her back to finish her scan. Their relationship ran very deep. “You’ve known her since you were a girl.”

“She was the mother I never had. Is,” she corrected herself with a small smile. “She is the mother I never had.”

Her face was dirty and streaked from the tears she’d shed. Her hair was disheveled, a few straggling strands having come loose from the tight ball of braids at her nape. He found himself wanting to smooth the hair from her face, just as Katherine had done.

But not for the same reason. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

Tall and strong, with her green eyes and golden hair, Sophie Johannsen was a beautiful woman with a bright mind and a quick temper. And a soft heart. She intrigued him as no woman had for some time. Two weeks, he warned himself. You wait two weeks, Ciccotelli.

But because his mind had already cut those two weeks down to one, he forced himself to change mental tracks. The sight of the body bag had triggered her extreme reaction. It didn’t take a detective to guess she’d seen one before.

“When did your mother die?” he asked and her hands stilled and her jaw tightened.

“She’s not dead,” she finally said, resuming her task.

Surprised, Vito frowned. “But… I don’t understand.”

Her smile was quick and flat. “That’s okay. Neither do I.”

It was a nice way of telling him to mind his own business. He was wondering how to probe deeper when she stopped working and began unbuttoning her coat. His brain stopped churning and he realized he was holding his breath, waiting to see what her bulky coat concealed. He wasn’t disappointed. She shrugged out of the coat, revealing a soft knit sweater that clung to every curve. He let the breath out as quietly as he could. Sophie Johannsen had a hell of a lot of curves.

She hung her coat on a hook on the back of the door, then turned back to her worktable, rolling her shoulders and he shoved his hands deeper in his pockets to keep from touching her. She glanced up at him before resuming her work. “You know you really can go. I’m fine here alone.”

Irritation scraped at him, obliterating whatever smooth segue he might have come up with. “So where is your mother then, if she’s not dead?”

Again her hands stilled and she turned only her head to look at him with a mixture of cool amusement and incredulity. “Katherine was right. You cops are nosy.” She said no more, concentrating on cleaning the piece as if she performed brain surgery.

Her dismissal irritated him. “Well? Where is she?”

She shot him a warning look and blew out an impatient breath. “So, tell me more about the brother who inhales chocolate. Him I can like.”

He’d pushed too far and for the life of him didn’t know why he’d done so. He wasn’t normally so rude. “Which translates to mind your own business,” he said ruefully.

She flashed a quick grin. “You detectives are so smart.” She lifted a brow as she opened the next cases. “So you and your brother are just bachelors roughing it?”

“You’re nosy, too, just more subtle about it,” he said and her warm chuckle told him he was right. It had been a while since he’d done this tango, but he still remembered the steps. She was establishing boundaries, which meant she was interested, too. “Tino’s kind of in between jobs. He was a commercial artist at this fancy advertising company, but they started taking on clients and projects he couldn’t morally support. So he quit. He couldn’t afford his condo in Center City anymore, so…”

“So you opened your home,” she said quietly. “That was nice of you, Vito.”

Her tone soothed his anger, brushing it away as if it had never been. “He’s my brother. And my friend.” And to Vito, that had always been reason enough.

She considered it for a moment, then nodded. “Then he’s a fortunate man.”

He said no more, warmed by the compliment she’d paid him with such effortless sincerity and a week was suddenly too long. The yearning was far stronger now. He wanted to race, to grab what he needed before it disappeared. One day, Chick. At least sleep on it. That he could try.

For now Vito contented himself in watching her go about her work. Finally, she stood and dusted her hands on her jeans. “I’m done.”

His hands itched to touch so he kept them in his pockets, not even offering to help her with her coat. “Then let’s go get your bike.”

Her brows slightly bent in question as she sensed his shift of mood. But apparently she really wasn’t as nosy as he was. “I’m parked around the back.”

Sunday, January 14, 11:55

P.M.

Sophie cast a wary glance up at Vito Ciccotelli as she locked the door to the Humanities building and led him to the parking lot. He’d watched her with an intensity that made her so nervous that what should have been a fifteen-minute cleaning had taken twice that long.

He’d watched her as a large cat would watch his prey, cautious and intent. She wondered why. Why he was so cautious, that was. She knew why she was the prey. She was accustomed to that look from men. When they got that look they wanted sex.

Sometimes they got it. But only when she needed it, too.

Which hadn’t been too often and certainly not recently. For the last six months she’d either been working or sitting with Anna, and before… Well, it was hard finding someone on the road and she never dated men on a dig. It was a politically foolish thing to do, career suicide. She ought to know. It only took one foolish, stupid, idiotic…

And years later, there was still talk. Easy, needy… desperate. She’d spent the years since focused on her career, striving to remain as sexless as possible. But she was human. She’d had to find men who’d never come in contact with her colleagues and that took time. So she’d spent the better part of her life alone, damning that one regrettable moment when she’d believed the smooth lies of a man she’d thought was her soul mate.

Not all men were pigs, she knew. Her uncle Harry was a sterling example of a kind, good man. Something inside her wanted to believe Vito Ciccotelli was as well. He obviously cared about people, both living and dead. She respected that.

Pocketing her key, she looked up at him. He was staring straight ahead into the night, his mind clearly elsewhere. Alone, she thought. Right now he looked very alone.

Two alone people might find a way not to be. For a while, anyway. It was something to consider. “Are you all right?” she asked. “You look… grim.”

“I’m sorry. My mind wandered.” He looked around. “Let’s get your bike and put it in the bed of my truck, then I’ll drive you home.”

Sophie lifted her brows. “My bike in your truck? I don’t think so.” She started walking and he followed, his huff of frustration audible.

She stopped next to her bike, and in the light of the streetlamps she saw his face flatten in surprise. “This is yours?”

“It is.” She unhooked her helmet from the seat. “Why?”

Sophie was relieved to see his broodiness had disappeared, replaced by a spark of excitement as he took a slow walk around her motorcycle. “Katherine said you had a bike. I thought she meant a bicycle. This…” He ran a hand over the engine reverently. “This is a real beauty.”

“You ride?”

“Yeah. Harley Buell.”

Fast and sleek. “Oooh. Racer.”

He looked up from his inspection and grinned. “Scares my mom to death.”

His delight was infectious so she grinned back. “You bad boy, you.”

He took another walk around the bike, stopping at the front tire so that he faced her. “I’ve never seen this BMW model before.”

“It’s a classic-1974. I got it when I was working in Europe. Zero to a hundred in under ten seconds.” She laughed. “God, it’s a rush.”

He suddenly sobered. “I am a cop, Sophie. You don’t speed, do you?”

Her grin disappeared. She wasn’t sure if he was serious, but decided to err on the side of caution. “Oh, I meant a hundred kilometers an hour. That’s barely sixty.”

He continued to frown for another second, and then his lips began to twitch. “Nice save. I’ll have to remember that one.”

Her chuckle was shaky. “You do that, Vito.” Setting the helmet firmly on her head, she patted her pockets, then frowned. “Oh, shit.” Frantically, she dug in each pocket and came up with everything but what she was looking for. “My keys are gone.”

“You just put it in your pocket.”

“That was the university key. I keep it on a separate ring. I’m only here once a week.” She closed her eyes. “If I lost my keys at the dig, I mean crime scene…”

Vito’s hand closed over her shoulder and gently squeezed. “Calm down, Sophie. If you lost them at the crime scene, they’re in the very safest place. We’ll be covering every inch of that ground with a fine-tooth comb. We’ll find them.”

She made herself breathe. “That’s good, but I kind of need them now. My bike keys, my house keys… and the Albright. Goddammit, Ted the Third’s gonna shit a ring.”

“The Albright?”

“The museum where I work. Ted the Third’s my boss. We don’t get along very well.”

“Why not?”

“He plays at being The Historian,” she said, dropping her voice dramatically. “Makes me do these damn tours.” She scowled. “I have to dress up.”

“And you don’t like to dress up?”

“I am a historian, dammit. I don’t just play at it. At least I didn’t.”

“So why did you take the job?”

She sighed, frustrated. “I needed the money for my gran’s nursing home and Ted the First was an archeological legend.”

“Ted the First is your boss’s grandfather?”

“Yeah. His collection comprises ninety percent of our exhibits.” She shrugged. “I thought working with the Albright Foundation would be good for my career. Now I’m just biding my time until something else is available.” She smiled ruefully. “There aren’t many medieval castles in Philly. And my pride won’t let me flip burgers at McDonald’s.”

“So when was the last time you felt your keys in your hand?” he asked quietly.

She closed her eyes and saw her hand closing over her keys. She looked up to find him watching her with that steady gaze once again. “That’s very good. Redirect my panic and clear my mind. The last time I had my keys was when I first got in your truck. It’s what was jangling against the garden stakes. Maybe I dropped them in your truck.”

He dug his own keys from his pocket, then smiled down at her, sending her heart into a Riverdance. “Let’s go look.”

Sophie’s mouth went dry and every nerve went zinging and she knew if she wasn’t careful she’d give him exactly what he wanted. Because at the moment she more than needed it. For the first time in a long time, she actually wanted it too. She took his keys and stepped back, needing the space. “No, I’ll go. You stay and check out my bike.”

She jogged around the building and past the funky ape to his truck. She patted the passenger seat, the floorboards, but found no keys. She remembered the bumpy access road to the gravesite and stuck her hand under the seat, hoping they’d bounced under. Then she sighed with relief when she felt them. But they were stuck on something.

She reached around behind the seat and winced as thorns pricked her palm. She pulled out a bouquet of wilted roses and frowned. They were obviously for someone, because stuck among the flowers was a white card. Before she could look away, the handwritten words registered.

A-I’ll always love you. V

The roses might have been for his mom, she thought, but men didn’t say I’ll always love you to their mothers, not like that. No men she wanted to know anyway.

So he was taken. Fair enough. But betrayal pricked at her heart. He’d watched her all day and he… He what, Sophie? He’d said he didn’t have anyone at home. But that was not necessarily an invitation. Get a grip. You heard what you wanted to hear, because you were sad and needy. Desperate. She wanted to cover her ears, but the word echoed inside her head. She forced herself to be reasonable. He was nice to me. And in the end, that was all he’d done. He’d made no improper advances. He’d been nothing but a gentleman. So of course he was taken. All the good ones were.

He was straddling her bike when she got back, looking lost in thought again. He blinked when she came close. “Did you find them?”

She held up her key ring and tossed him his. “Under the seat.”

“Okay.” He climbed off her bike. “Sophie, I… Thank you. You were a huge help today. I wish we could pay you for your time. But I did promise a pizza.” He lifted his brows. “I know a place that’s open late if you want to get one now.”

Sophie swallowed. He’s taken. She still wanted him… So what kind of woman am I? She made herself smile. “If your department really wants to pay me back, give me a get-outta-jail-free card for the next time I get pulled over for going too fast on my bike.”

Vito frowned. “I wasn’t talking about the department taking you out to dinner. I was talking about me.” He drew a deep breath. “I’m asking you to go to dinner with me.”

She fastened the strap of her helmet under her chin with a hard yank, her heart sinking. Please don’t be asking me on a date. Please be the nice guy I want to believe you are. “Like… a-a-a date?” God, he had her stammering now.

He nodded, soberly. “Yeah. Like a date.” He stepped forward and lifted her chin with his finger until she was looking into his eyes. “I haven’t met anyone like you in a long time. I don’t want to just walk away.”

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could only stare into those dark eyes, desperately wanting to believe his words, desperately wanting what she knew she couldn’t have. His thumb brushed her lower lip, sending shivers down her spine. “What do you say?” he murmured, his voice smooth and soothing. “I could follow you home, make sure you get home all right. Pick up a pizza on the way. We can talk some more.”

He moved a hair closer and she knew she was about to be kissed. She knew it would probably be one of the most earth-shattering moments of her existence. “So how about it?” he whispered and she could feel the warmth of him on her skin.

Yes, yes. The words were on the tip of her tongue. Then her brain finally kicked in, replaying Alan Brewster’s voice saying almost the exact same words. Sanity returned like a hammer to her head and she took a lurching step back just as he angled his face to kiss her. “No.” Breathing hard, she backed up until the back of her legs touched her bike. She climbed on, furious, but whether she was more furious with him for trying it or for herself for nearly becoming yet another notch in another man’s bedpost she couldn’t say. “No thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

He stepped aside without another word and she stomped on the starter, revving the bike’s hundred and ten horses to life. Before turning into the street she glanced at her side mirror and saw he hadn’t moved. He stood statue still, watching her go.