Spectrum (The Karen Vail Series) (29 page)

“Makes me feel so much better,” Russo said. “But what’d you mean about marking his victims?”

“When he draws that X, he’s telling us, ‘This is one of mine.’ And that’s why he got so pissed when someone supposedly came forward and took credit for his work. That X is like a signature. An artist signing his painting.”

“This guy is seriously disturbed,” Slater said.

“I think she’s right,” Finkelstein said, pushing up the glasses on his nose with the back of a gloved hand. “I remember when you were a pup your first day on the job.” He shook his head and turned to Russo. “Time flies and the kids grow up so fast, eh?”

Russo could not stifle his chuckle.

“Anyway,” Finkelstein said, “Your scenario looks right,
Agent
Vail.”

“Do we have an ID?”

“I’ve taken a set of prints to confirm,” Chandler said, “assuming she’s in the system.

“I found a driver’s license wedged under her left thigh.” Slater held up a card in front of his face and squinted to read the text. “Teri Callas.”

“Callas,” Vail repeated. “Is that a Greek name?”

“Yeah.” Russo wiped his brow. “Greek. And I’m really getting pissed off at this goddamn perp.”

“Welcome to the club.” She turned to Slater. “Let’s get back to Danzig. I assume you’ve checked into him since the shootout.”

“I know him as well as the inside of my underwear.”

“That’s not a good image,” Vail said. “All I want to know is if he had any known contact with any of the vics.”

Slater walked through the adjacent holding cell and emerged on Vail’s side, then took a seat at the nearest desk. “Danzig’s an alias, you knew that. The real Victor Danzig died in a car accident a year before our guy took the job with the department. But we found a link to the Castiglias. We think they’re the ones who set him up with the alias and helped him get the job with the NYPD. Back then the family had people on the inside.”

“What kind of connection?”

“He’d do things for them, get information, pull stuff from case files. He worked off the books with a law firm that’s got known mob ties. Santangelo & Rici. He was feeding them info they’d need to get their clients off—or a leaner sentence.”

Vail nodded. “That would make sense, how he got the DD-5 from the file. What
doesn’t
make sense is killing Crinelli. Why would he kill his meal ticket? I’m sure they were compensating him well for the info. Not to mention that it’s crazy to declare war on an enemy who could wipe you out with one phone call.”

Russo looked over at Teri Callas. “If the family doesn’t know he killed Crinelli, they wouldn’t come after him. And the law firm would keep paying him for the info he got them.”

Vail thought about that a moment.
This is not adding up.
“What about the other vics? Any connection to that law firm or the Castiglias?”

Slater began rocking in his chair. “Haven’t been able to find anything. But that don’t mean Danzig didn’t pick them randomly, or meet them in a market or a bar.”

“Yeah, but why only go after Greek women?” Vail asked. “Gotta be a reason. Any beefs with the Greek community?”

Russo scratched his forehead. “None we could find. But it doesn’t need to be the community, just a single person who wronged him. Bottom line is, we’re no further along with Danzig than we were before. And he’s still at large. I was him, I’d be in Mexico or Canada.”

“I don’t know about that.” Vail gestured toward Callas. “If he is our guy, he’s obviously in New York. And he was standing right here in this very spot a few hours ago.”

44

>ELLIS ISLAND

Sunday, May 17, 1981

Livana sat down on the edge of Niklaus’s bed and fanned her neck with a piece of cardboard against the unusually warm weather and humidity.

“Niklaus, wake up.”

Niklaus stirred, then fluttered his eyes open and gathered his pillow into a ball beneath his neck. “What time is it?”

“It’s noon.”

“So?”

“So it’s time to get up. We’ve got a lot of things to do and you’ve slept long enough.”

He groaned and pulled the covers over his head. “Where’s Dmitri?”

“Out. Walking the island.” She waited a moment, then said, “What would you like me to make you for breakfast? Tomorrow’s your birthday.”

Fedor knocked on the half open door and walked in. “Morning. Or should I say afternoon?”

Nick groaned. “It’d be ‘good afternoon’ if you didn’t wake me up.”

“Your father and I figured we’d celebrate your birthday today because tomorrow’s a school day.”

Niklaus peeled back the covers. “I’m a senior. I can take tomorrow off.”

“I thought it’d be nice to spend it together. Maybe go fishing. And we have work tomorrow.”

“Still skipping school tomorrow.”

Fedor approached the bed. “Any particular reason?”

“Because I can.”

“You have three weeks left before school ends. Then you’ll have plenty of days off.”

“I’m moving out when I graduate. Off this island. I’m gonna get a job and an apartment.”

Livana and Fedor shared a look. “Since when?” she asked.

“I’ve had enough of living in a prison. How many times have I told you I was unhappy here?”

“We’ve done the best we could,” Fedor said. “And this may not feel like a great place to live, but it’s had a lot of advantages.”

“Guess we’ll have to disagree on that.” He threw the covers back and got out of bed. “I’m not gonna live my life in fear. I’m going to go back home, to Astoria.”

Fedor rubbed at his forehead. “Nik, we need to talk about this. It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the speech.” He pulled out a shirt and slipped it over his head. “But when you don’t stand up to bullies they push you around. You shoulda stood up to them when they kidnapped Dmitri. Soon as we got him back, you shoulda gone right back to the police.”

Fedor stifled a chuckle laced with frustration. “Look, you’re eighteen, so you think you know everything about life. But you don’t. We did what we thought was best. And we still think it was the right thing to do.”

“That turned out great, didn’t it? Cassie’s dead.”

That comment silenced them all. Livana felt it internally, like an ice pick to the gut.

“And you two think you know stuff, but there’s a lot you don’t know.”

Livana gathered her thoughts and looked up at Niklaus. “What are you talking about? Like what?”

Niklaus frowned at her. “Like it wasn’t Basil who cut that guy’s eyes in the bowling alley. It was Dmitri.”

“What?” Fedor said.

Livana and Fedor looked at each other a long moment, trying to work it through, reason it out.

“He was just a kid,” Fedor said. “Why would he do that?”

Niklaus turned away. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget it.”

“Forget it?” Livana asked. “Niklaus, you can’t make a statement like that and tell us to forget it like we never heard it.”

“Basil hit the guy with the Coke bottle and it shattered. The guy fell and hit his head, didn’t move. Guess he was out cold. Dmitri ran over, grabbed one of the pieces of glass and sliced it across the guy’s eyes. Basil pulled the glass out of his hand and pushed him away. That’s when you came in.”

Livana remembered seeing Dmitri a few feet away when she walked in. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You seriously asking that question?” He waited but neither his dad nor Livana had a response. “Same reason Basil didn’t say anything. He woulda gotten in trouble. A lot of trouble. Look at what happened to Basil. Dmitri was only eight or nine, who knows what they woulda done to him.”

Livana got up off the bed and began pacing. “I knew Basil was keeping something from me. I didn’t know what it was. Did he say anything to you, Fedor?”

“No. He never told me this.”

Livana shook her head. “Basil kept saying it wasn’t his fault. I thought he was talking about that slut. Gregor’s wife. And because he didn’t start the fight. I didn’t realize what he really meant—that it wasn’t his fault because he didn’t cut Gregor. I wish he’d just told me.”

“
None
of it was his fault, Liv.”

Niklaus gathered up a pair of jeans on the floor. “Can you guys get out so I can shower and get dressed?”

Livana pulled herself up from the bed then started toward the door.

But Fedor did not budge. “We still need to talk about your plans, Niklaus. You want to do that later, fine. But we need to make sure you’ve thought this through. Where you’re going to work, how you’re going to pay for an apartment—”

“Fine. Yeah, okay. Later.”

FEDOR AND LIVANA stood in the kitchen. They were silent, each knowing what the other was thinking: How did our lives get so screwed up?

As they stood there, they heard the backdoor open and close. Dmitri walked in, head down, and opened the pantry.

“Where’d you go?”

“Out.”

“Out where?” Livana asked.

“Immigration building. I wanted to see what they’re doing.”

The past several months they had done well avoiding the authorities and the construction workers, leaving before the men arrived each day and coming home after dark, when their shifts had ended. Others came to the island on the weekend, but Sundays were usually off days for everyone.

“No one saw you?”

“They were busy with their own shit.”

“Watch your mouth, please.”

“Dmitri,” Fedor said. “We need to ask you about something, back when we lived in Astoria. At the bowling alley, when your dad got into that fight.”

Dmitri glanced up at them. “What about it?”

“When your dad was trying to defend himself, he hit Gregor—Mr. Persephone—with the Coke bottle. He fell and lost consciousness. What happened after that?”

“Mom came in and she started screaming.”

“I wasn’t screaming,” Livana said.

“Liv.” Fedor shook his head. “Go on, Dmitri. Right before your mom came in.”

“Don’t know. I was hiding under the table.”

“You didn’t pick up a piece of broken glass?” Fedor asked.

“Why would I do that?”

“Do you know who cut Mr. Persephone’s eyes?”

Dmitri looked down. “Why are you asking? Why are you asking?” He started tapping his foot on the floor.

“It’s nothing to get upset about,” Livana said. “We’re just asking you a question.”

“No.” He started pacing the kitchen. “Not my fault. Not my fault, not my fault!”

Livana started toward Dmitri, to calm him. But there was a knock at the door. She stopped and turned. They all looked at one another, fear falling across Livana’s face like a translucent mask.

“Dmitri,” Fedor whispered. “You sure no one followed you here?”

Dmitri put his hands over his ears and started pacing again.

Livana walked to the door and pulled it open. There were two uniformed men standing there, large sidearms holstered on their belts.

“Ma’am, we’re with the United States Park Police. May I ask what you—” he looked around her body—“and your family are doing here, on the island?”

Livana felt dizzy, as if the blood was rushing from her brain, draining toward her feet. She grabbed for the doorjamb but that was the last thing she remembered as everything faded from view.

WHEN SHE AWOKE Fedor was at her side, a bottle of bleach in his hand. The smell burned her nose and she shook her head, instinctively pushing it away from her face.

“You fainted,” Fedor said. “I think you scared them off. They started talking real fast, told us we need to get off the island by tomorrow or face imprisonment for trespassing on federal land.”

“Who were they?”

“Police. They must’ve seen Dmitri and followed him here.”

“Where is he?”

“In his room. I heard his door slam.”

Livana rolled onto her side and got to her feet. “I need to go check on him.”

“While you’re in there, tell him to start packing. I’m gonna head into the city before it gets too late, see if I can get us a motel room until we can find a place to live. And tell Niklaus to get his stuff together. He’s getting his wish.”

45

>DEAD EYES TASK FORCE

Fairfax, Virginia

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Karen Vail sat at the rectangular utilitarian folding table across from Spotsylvania County homicide detective Mandisa Manette.

Vail tossed her pen down. “You’re saying we’re done here.”

“Kari, I know you don’t wanna hear this, but life can suck the big one. And from your perspective, this is a mouthful.”

Vail rolled her eyes. “This isn’t about me, Mandisa. I’m telling you, Angelina Sarducci is a Dead Eyes vic. There are some discrepancies in the crime scene between the first two vics and Ms. Sarducci, but this is the same guy.”

“But we’ve got no way to support that claim,” Manette said. “You know I don’t get your psychobabble bullshit, but even if I admitted that you made a good case for it, it’s subjective. It’s just an opinion.”

“I have to agree,” said Fairfax City detective Bubba Sinclair. “If we take away Sarducci, the Dead Eyes killer doesn’t look so impressive with only two vics under his belt. If the brass wants to disband us, what can we say?”

Vail spread her hands. “We can say that Angelina Sarducci is one of his vics, so he’s got three kills and that’s enough to keep us working.”

Vienna detective Roberto Enrique Umberto “Robby” Hernandez leaned forward in his seat. “I’m with Karen. What happens when we fold up the tent and a few months from now another woman ends up eviscerated?”

Paul Bledsoe, the detective in charge of the Dead Eyes task force, pushed his chair back from the table and unfolded his short, stocky body. “Look, I understand we’ve got a difference of opinion here. Karen’s convinced that, behaviorally, this is the same guy. But it’s tough to support based on the facts. And honestly, the brass makes the decision. We can sit here and debate—and I wanted to give you all the opportunity to discuss it. But fact is, the chief said we’re done here. I’m sorry.” He tossed a file onto the table. “And I hope to God, Hernandez, another mutilated woman doesn’t turn up a few months from now.”

Vail’s BlackBerry buzzed.

“All right, let’s take fifteen minutes to clear our heads.”

Vail knew the number on her display: Carmine Russo. She hadn’t heard from him in a few years. They had grown apart, not on purpose, but because of the business of life. Her career as a profiler had moved along at a breakneck pace. Although her marriage had not experienced the same good fortune, she had a sense that the case that had dogged her for sixteen years—unsolved—was about to get more interesting.

“Russo, you old dog.”

“Karen, you’ve gotta stop calling me that.”

Vail laughed. “Yeah, but as the years pass, it gets closer to the truth.” She nodded at Robby, who was hanging around doing his best to look busy. “How’ve you been?”

“Took the captain’s exam last month.”

“No shit. Did you pass?”

“Woke up with a migraine, called in and asked if I could postpone it. Guess what the answer was.”

“Tough shit?”

“Pretty much. I’ll take it again, no biggie. Anyway, same old shit here. You know how it is. And you?”

“Doing the profiling thing. It’s fascinating. I love it, best career move I ever made. Jonathan’s a petulant teen, but I wouldn’t trade him for any-thing.”

“And how are things with Deacon? Or do I not want to ask?”

Vail glanced around. Robby was within earshot, as was Bledsoe—but no matter. “Slow downward spiral. Talk about same old shit. Every once in a while he decides to stop taking his meds and he falls apart, loses his job, and we start all over again. Hasn’t been fun. Last month he punched me—”

“He what?”

“First time. And last time. After I gave him an iron skillet to the head, I hit him with divorce papers.”

“Karen, I’m sorry.”

“You know what, Russo? It’s okay. In a way, I’m relieved. I gave it every-thing I had, tried to help him turn his life around. But the bipolar thing, if you don’t take your meds, it’s just bad all around. Forget about me, it’s not healthy for Jonathan. So what can I say? I’ve got a colleague here who likes to say that sometimes life sucks the big one. I guess that’s my life right now.” She looked up and Manette had walked into the room. The detective threw her dreadlocks back over her shoulder and gave Vail a wink. “So is this just a social call?”

Russo gave her a tense laugh. “Wish I could lie and say yes. We’ve both been bad about staying in touch. But we got something here, and I thought you’d want to know.”

“Don’t tell me. Another Hades vic?”

“Yes and no. A vic who got away. Escaped.”

“Holy shit.” Vail’s heart was racing. If she still smoked, she would have lit up. Instead, she headed out the backdoor into the yard of the soon-to-be former Dead Eyes task force command center to get some fresh air. “Is she Greek?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she see the offender?”

“No, but she gave us some interesting info on him. I thought you might want to talk with her. Maybe—I don’t know. Maybe you could get more than we did.”

“Not sure there’s anything I can do that you can’t, but I’d sure love to talk with her.” Vail took a deep breath of the moist, cold air. “Assuming my ASAC and unit chief will sign off, I’ll come up.”

“Don’t worry about a hotel. You can stay with me and Sofia.”

Uh, no thanks. Sofia the space cadet? I’d have to kill her.

“Thanks for the offer. We’ll see. I may make it a longer trip and stop by Westbury, see my mom and aunt.” She told him she would get right on it and text him the flight info.

“Everything okay?” Robby asked.

Vail slipped the phone back into its holder on her belt. “Old case. Very old, actually. Goes back to my first day on the job. We may finally have a break.”

“Congrats.” He stepped out and handed Vail her jacket. “Thought you might need this. It’s a little chilly out here.”

She watched the vapor trail away from her mouth. “A little?” She slipped it on and thanked him. “You always seem to know what I’m thinking.”

“Yeah, well, in this case I didn’t need any kind of ESP. It’s winter, it’s cold, and you didn’t have your jacket.”

She zipped it up and rubbed her arms to create some warmth. “You think I’m right about Dead Eyes? About Angelina Sarducci?”

Robby, at six foot seven, had a tendency to block the light when he stood with his back to the sun. There was no sun today, but his presence still dominated the space. “Look, I think you’re right. Yeah. But I’ve got no way to back you up. It’s more of a feeling.”

“I know.” She blew on her hands. “But there are gonna be other vics. Because I have a feeling too. And when it comes to stuff like this, my feelings tend to be right. Not always, but this is one of those cases where I’d like to be wrong. You know?”

“If there’s anything good to come from this—and maybe this is a stretch—it’s that we got a chance to meet. You’ve got some very special talents. Working with you has been eye-opening.”

Vail was lost in thought, but she pulled herself back. “Dead Eyes is gonna kill again, Robby. This group’ll be back together soon enough. Six months, maybe nine. You won’t even have time to miss me.”