Die for Me (46 page)

“I’m glad I could offer something, because I didn’t get anything off Daniel’s father’s PC. At least nothing to lead you to Simon directly. There was a utility downloaded—it allowed whoever put it on there to access the father’s computer remotely, but it was nothing fancy. Just a common UNIX utility that anyone could have downloaded.”

“You sound disappointed,” Nick said and Brent chuckled.

“Maybe a little. I was expecting something huge based on the Trojan ’bots with timers he used on the models’ computers. But this was simple and elegant. And untraceable. Maybe I’ll have more luck with the medical databases. They tend not to be so elegant. Oh.” Brent handed Vito a framed photo. “The Dutton sheriff that sent the computer sent this. He said Daniel and Susannah had asked him to give it to us.”

“It’s Simon,” Vito said. “Younger. This is the same face as the one in Pfeiffer’s picture. I guess even Simon found it difficult to disguise himself in anything more than a wig at a doctor’s exam. It’s one more piece of the puzzle.”

Nick was frowning. “That remote control download. Can you tell when it was done?”

“Sure,” Brent said. “A few days after Thanksgiving.”

“Would Simon have to have been in the house to do the download?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know of any other way he could have independently done it.”

Troubled, Liz followed the thought. “Mr. and Mrs. Vartanian come here looking for their blackmailer and, presumably, Simon. At some point they find Simon, or he finds them, because they’re dead and buried in Simon’s graveyard. So then Simon goes back to Georgia and fixes his father’s PC for remote access, plants the travel brochures, and makes it look like they’ve gone on vacation. He even keeps paying their bills. Why?”

“He didn’t want anyone to know his parents were dead,” Jen said. “Arthur was a retired judge—somebody would have investigated.”

“And Daniel and Susannah would have gotten involved, which they did.” Nick looked at Vito. “He wanted to keep them away, because he wasn’t ready for them yet.”

“At least they know to be on alert,” Vito said. “Where are they now?”

“Back in Dutton,” Katherine said. “They went back for the exhumation.”

“So did you get the results?” Vito asked.

“Only that the body isn’t Simon’s. The bones are those of a five-foot-ten-inch man.”

“Wasn’t an autopsy done?” Liz asked and Katherine rolled her eyes.

“Mexican autopsy,” Katherine said. “That supposed car crash was in Tijuana. Vartanian’s father went down and got the death certificate, bought the casket, and brought it back through customs. Either he greased some palms or whoever peeked inside saw a horribly charred corpse and shut the coffin back up quick.”

“So he still might not have known whether Simon was really dead,” Jen said.

Katherine shrugged. “I don’t know. I imagine Daniel and Susannah want to know, but at this point, I’m not sure how that helps us find Simon.”

“Did Pfeiffer or his receptionist come in to be printed?” Nick asked.

Jen shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Let us know when they do,” Vito said. “What else? What about churches in the quarry areas, Jen? Or the silicone lubricant manufacturer?”

“I’ve got a tech calling lube manufacturers and two techs mapping churches. Nothing yet. I was personally working Van Zandt’s car all day. Sorry, Vito. We’re doing our best.”

Vito sighed. “I know.” He thought of Sophie. “But we have to try harder.”

“Now that Van Zandt’s in jail,” Nick mused, “what if Simon decides to leave town? oRo’s going to fold. Simon doesn’t have a job anymore.”

“We need a way to make him stay,” Vito said. “To draw him out into the open.”

“He thinks he’s got Van Zandt fucked over a barrel.” Nick looked at Maggy Lopez. “What if Van Zandt were to get released?”

Maggy shook her head. “I can’t let just let him go. We charged him. He hasn’t agreed to the plea, and I’m not giving him immunity. He’s got to go through the system. Nick, I can’t believe you of all people want me to deal him down.”

“I don’t want to deal him down,” Nick said. “But I want him on the street, so we can follow him. You don’t have to let him go, exactly. His bond hearing is tomorrow morning, right?”

“So? Two hours ago you wanted to push the plunger on the lethal injection syringe yourself. Now you want me to put him on the streets. You want me to make him
bait.
”

“I don’t see a problem with it,” Nick said. “We keep close to him. Simon won’t be able to resist. It’ll be like we painted a big bull’s-eye on Jager’s ass.”

“More like an R,” Brent said dryly. “For riches.”

“And don’t forget the dead wood comment,” Vito added. “Van Zandt deserves whatever he gets, Maggy. But we won’t let Simon get him, because we want to see Van Zandt behind bars, too. If he knew about these murders and let it go on, he’s complicit.”

Maggy sighed. “If we lose him . . .”

“We won’t,” Nick promised. “All you have to do is ask for a teensy bail.”

“All right,” Maggy said. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“We won’t,” Vito promised, feeling a surge of energy. “Liz, can we get Bev and Tim back for a few more days? Maybe even just tomorrow? We need surveillance eyes.”

“I’ll arrange it,” Liz said. “But only for one day. We’ll have to reevaluate if this drags.”

“Fair enough.” Vito stood up. “Let’s meet early tomorrow and coordinate.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Friday, January 19, 7:00
P.M.

S
ophie sank into the front seat of Vito’s truck. She’d pushed the fury aside, but with the day done, it started to churn anew. What more could Lena possibly take?

Vito started the engine and sat quietly as the heater began to warm the cab. He was waiting for her to say something, she knew. She also knew he’d had a bad day himself. His problems were a lot bigger than hers. He had a killer to catch.

Getting angry about a few missing vinyl records had kept her own mind off the fact that that same killer had been watching her, so maybe indirectly Lena had finally done something good. She rolled her head to look at him. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting, but what did you think of my Viking tour?”

His eyes shifted, heated, and his lips curved, making her pulse quicken. “I thought you made the sexiest Viking warrior I ever saw. I wanted to jump you right there.”

She laughed, as he’d meant her to. “In front of all those children? Shame on you.”

He brought her hand to his lips. “What’s wrong, Sophie?”

His tone was so gentle, her eyes stung. “Harry came by today.” She told him about the visit and watched his eyes harden.

“You should press charges.”

“You sound like Harry. I didn’t press charges when Lena killed my sister. Why would I press charges over her stealing a few old phonograph records?”

Vito shook his head. “Elle’s death was an accident. This theft wasn’t.”

Sophie’s chin came up. “Now you sound like Katherine.”

“Because Katherine was right. Sophie, Lena’s a terrible mother, but she didn’t mean to kill Elle. But this theft, this she meant to do. She planned it and she profited from it. If you’re going to hate her, hate her for the things she’s really done. Hating her for feeding nuts to a kid who she didn’t know was allergic is pointless.”

Sophie gaped at him. “
Pointless
?”

“And childish,” he added quietly. “Last night you said that Andrea made her choices, and you were right. Lena’s made her choices, too. Hold her accountable for those, for abandoning you and for stealing from your grandmother, Sophie, but not for killing Elle. That kind of hate is just wasted energy.”

Sophie felt angry tears building. “I can hate her for anything I want to hate her for, Vito, and it really isn’t any of your business, so just butt out.”

He flinched at that and looked away. “Okay.” He pulled his truck into the stream of traffic. “I guess that tells me where I stand.”

Guilt speared. “I’m sorry, Vito. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just disappointed that I don’t have any music to play for Gran, and I really wanted to see her happy again.”

“Just seeing your face makes her happy.” But he wouldn’t look at her, even though he’d stopped at a red light, and that made her panic.

“Vito, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you to butt out. I’m not used to worrying about what somebody else thinks about me. Someone whose opinion matters anyway.”

“It’s all right, Sophie.” But it wasn’t. She could see that. She wasn’t sure how to make it right, so she mentally backed away and approached from another direction.

“Vito, you didn’t find him, did you? Simon Vartanian.”

His jaw tightened. “No. But we found both the game guys.”

“Alive?”

“One’s alive.”

She drew in a breath. “Simon’s snipping off all his loose ends, isn’t he?”

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “It looks that way.”

“I’m being careful, Vito. You don’t need to distract yourself worrying about me.”

He looked over at her then, his eyes intense, and relief pushed away her panic. “Good. Because I’m getting attached to you, Sophie. I want you to care about what I think, and I want it to be my business to care about how you feel.”

She was unsure of how to respond. “That’s a big step, Vito. Especially for me.”

“I know. That’s why I’m prepared to be patient.” He patted her thigh, then took her hand. “Don’t worry, Sophie. My caring about you isn’t meant to cause you stress.”

She stared at his hand, strong and dark against her skin. “It’s just that I fuck things up sometimes. I really don’t want to fuck this up. Whatever it is that we have.”

“You won’t. For now, just sit back and enjoy the ride.” His lips quirked. “Over the river and through the woods. To Gran’s we go.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do I get the feeling you’re the big bad wolf?”

He grinned lightly. “Better to eat you with, my dear?”

She smacked him even as she laughed. “Just drive, Vito.”

For the rest of the drive they kept the conversation light, away from Lena, Simon, and any talk of serious relationships. When they got to the nursing home, Vito helped her out of the truck, then reached into the back and pulled out a big shopping bag.

“What’s that?”

He hid the bag behind his back. “It’s my basket of goodies for Grandma.”

Her lips twitched as they walked. “So now
I’m
the big bad wolf?”

He kept his eyes forward. “You can blow my house down any time.”

She snickered. “You’re bad, Vito Ciccotelli, just bad to the bone.”

He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth as they stood at Anna’s door. “So I’m told.”

Her grandmother was watching them with eagle eyes from her bed, and Sophie suspected that was the reason Vito had chosen the doorway to kiss her. Anna looked good, Sophie decided as she kissed both her cheeks. “Hi, Gran.”

“Sophie.” Anna reached up a feeble hand to touch her cheek. Still, the movement was more than she’d done in a long time. “You brought back your young man.”

Vito sat down next to her bed. “Hello, Anna.” He kissed her cheek. “You’re looking better today. Your cheeks are downright rosy.”

Anna smiled up at him. “You’re a flatterer. I like that.”

He smiled back at her. “I thought you might.” He reached into the bag, pulled out a long-stemmed rose and handed it to her gallantly. “I thought you might like flowers, too.”

Anna’s eyes went shiny and Sophie felt her own eyes sting. “Vito,” she murmured.

Vito glanced over at her. “You could have had some too, but no. It was ‘Stop, Vito’ and ‘You’re so bad, Vito.’” He closed Anna’s hand over the stem. “I had them strip off the thorns. Can you smell it?”

Anna nodded. “I can. It’s been a long time since I’ve smelled roses.”

Sophie kicked herself for not thinking of it herself, but it didn’t appear that Vito was finished. He brought out an entire bouquet of roses just ready to bloom and then a black porcelain vase, which he set carefully on the nightstand next to her bed. Embedded in the porcelain were crystals that shimmered like the stars in the night sky. He arranged the roses and again adjusted the vase on the nightstand.

“Now you can smell them even better,” he said and handed Sophie the plastic pitcher from the nightstand. “Can you get us some water for these flowers, Sophie?”

“Of course.” But she lingered in the doorway, the pitcher in her hands. Vito still wasn’t finished. He took out a small cassette player.

“My grandfather had a record collection,” he said and Anna’s eye widened.

“You brought music?” she whispered and Sophie damned Lena to hell. Then she damned herself for not having thought of music in general before now.

“Not just any music,” Vito said with a smile that made Sophie’s breath catch.

Anna’s mouth opened, then her lips pressed tight. “You have . . .
Orfeo
?” she asked, then held her breath like a child who is afraid she’ll be told no.

“I do.” He started the tape, and Sophie instantly recognized the opening strains of
Che faro,
the aria that had brought Anna fame a lifetime ago. Then Anna’s pure mezzo-soprano soared from the small speaker and Anna released the breath she held, closed her eyes and settled, as if she’d been waiting for just this. Sophie’s throat closed and her chest hurt as she watched her grandmother’s lips begin to move with the words.

Vito hadn’t taken his eyes from her grandmother’s face, and that made Sophie’s chest hurt even more. He hadn’t done this thing to impress her. He’d done this beautiful thing to make an old woman smile.

But Anna wasn’t smiling. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she tried to draw the breath to sing. But her lungs were fragile and nothing emerged but a pitiful croak.

Sophie took a step back, unable to watch Anna’s futile attempts or the misery that filled her grandmother’s eyes as she gave up. Clutching the plastic pitcher to her chest, Sophie turned away and started walking.

“Sophie?” one of the nurses tried to stop her. “What is it? Does Anna need help?”

Sophie shook her head. “No, just water. I’m getting it.” She made it to the little kitchenette at the end of the hall and, her hands shaking, turned on the water. She filled the pitcher, reining in her emotion as she turned off the water.

And went still. Another voice now soared. But it wasn’t Anna’s smooth mezzo. It was a rich baritone. And it drew her like a lodestone.

Heart pounding, she walked back to Anna’s door, where six nurses stood stock still, hardly breathing. Squeezing through, Sophie stumbled to a halt and could only stare.

It was, she would reflect later, an odd moment to fall in love.

She’d been wrong. Aunt Freya hadn’t gotten the last good man. One sat at her grandmother’s side, singing the words Anna could not with a voice that was both powerful and pure. On his face was gentle tenderness as Anna’s eyes watched every movement of his mouth, drinking in each note with a joy that was almost painful to behold.

But behold Sophie did, and when Vito had sung the last note she stood, her cheeks wet, but her mouth smiling. Behind her went up a collective sigh from the nurses, then they went back to their duties, sniffling.

Vito looked over at her, his brows lifting. “If you filled that pitcher with tears, it’ll kill the roses, Sophie,” he teased. He dipped his head close to Anna’s. “We made her cry.”

“Sophie’s always been a crier. Cried at the cartoons even.” But the words were uttered with unmistakable affection.

“I didn’t know you watched when I cried at cartoons, Gran.”

“I watched you all the time, Sophie.” She patted Sophie’s hand awkwardly. “You were such a pleasure to watch grow up. I like your young man. You should keep him.” One of her brows went up. “Do you understand my meaning?”

Sophie met Vito’s as she answered. “Yes, ma’am. I certainly do.”

Friday, January 19, 8:00
P.M.

Something was different, Vito thought. A closeness. The way Sophie leaned against him as they walked to his truck. And she was smiling at him, which was always a plus.

“If I’d known the singing would trip your trigger I would have sung to you Sunday night. In fact, if it’ll get me lucky, I can sing anything you want.” He opened her door, but she turned in his arms instead of getting in. Her kiss was warm and fluid and left him wishing they weren’t in an icy parking lot.

“It wasn’t the singing. It was everything, the way you held her hand and the way she watched you. You’re a very nice man, Vito Ciccotelli.”

“You said I was bad to the bone.”

She nipped at his lip, sending lust surging along every nerve. “The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.” She got up into the truck and faced him. “I think I’ll call the local opera society. Maybe they can send some visitors to Gran. I should have thought of the music, Vito. It was her whole life. I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

“You’ve been concentrating on getting her well.” Vito climbed behind the wheel and pulled his door closed with a slam. “Don’t beat yourself up.” He pulled into traffic, toward Anna’s house. “Besides, Tino made the recording for me.”

“But you thought of it. And the flowers. I should have thought of that, too.”

“I have to admit to an ulterior motive for the roses. The vase is your granny-cam.”

Sophie blinked at him. “What?”

“All those crystals? One is a camera. Now you’ll know if Nurse Marco is really mean.”

Sophie looked at him. “You’re amazing.”

“No, not really. Tino picked it out after my brother-in-law Aidan gave us a few ideas while you were building the castle last night. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention the camera to Tess. She gets a little uptight about people being filmed against their will.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Good. Now we’re going back to your place where I’m going to sing to you again. Just keep remembering that I’m amazing.”

She laughed. “Later. I promised the boys I’d help them finish the castle. So first, your house. Then we can go back to Gran’s and . . . make love. Amazingly.”

Vito drew a pained breath. “I was thinking about fucking like minks on the stairs.”

Her chuckle was evil. “First I build a castle. Then you can lay siege.”

He watched them drive away. He’d been lucky, he thought, removing the earpiece before the slamming truck door burst his eardrums. If the cop had closed his door a minute sooner he would have missed the magic words.