87

Federico is leaning in a shop doorway, smoking and watching the rain fall, as Tom puddle-splashes his way back to the car. ‘No luck?’ the lieutenant calls as he steps from his shelter and flicks the last of the cigarette into the potholed road.

Tom shakes his head and slips into the back seat, behind Valentina. ‘Damned weather! I look like a drowned cat.’

She turns and weighs him up with a smile on her face. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I quite like the wet look. It reminds me of when you’ve just showered.’

Federico grumpily grunts his way behind the wheel, ending all possibility of further flirtation. ‘So what’s the story?’

Tom struggles out of his wet coat as he answers. ‘Louisa was at home just a short while ago. Some neighbours saw her being driven off by a man and woman they’ve never seen before.’

‘Did you speak to them?’ asks Valentina.

‘Only the man; his wife was out. He said he came out of his apartment after hearing a lot of noise on the gravel. At first he thought Louisa was drunk, because she was held up between the couple.’

‘Drugged?’ asks Federico rhetorically.

‘The neighbour says they were virtually carrying her. The man waved him away. Gave him some story about her passing out after she twisted her ankle and fell on the stairs. He said they were taking her to hospital.’

Valentina turns to Federico. ‘Is there anyone you trust at work who can do a check at the clinics, see if she was admitted somewhere?’

‘ Si. I know such people. I can get it checked, but I don’t think we’ll find anything. If someone’s fainted, you sit them down, give them air and maybe some water. She would have been well enough to have talked to her neighbours.’

Valentina knows he’s right. ‘Anything else?’

Tom wipes drips of water from his face. ‘No. The door guy at her apartment is a jerk. Probably overworked and drunk most of the time. He said he hadn’t seen anything suspicious.’

Federico runs the palm of his hand back and forth across the top of a steering wheel that’s grown shiny from years of hard Italian driving. ‘I’m trying to think why anyone would want to drug and abduct a psychiatric clinician.’

‘The usual reasons are sexual, financial or emotional,’ observes Valentina. ‘Some sleazy creep has been stalking her?’

Federico asks the obvious. ‘Sure, but what’s the link to Anna?’

Valentina’s trying to figure it out. ‘Maybe she’s been taken by someone who blames her for Anna’s death?’

Federico’s nicotined fingers drum a heavy bass on the wheel. ‘I hope not. I really hope not.’

Valentina explains to Tom: ‘If it’s a revenge kidnap, then we’ve got no chance of getting her back. They’re going to kill her.’

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