Shadow Warrior, page 35
part #4 of Shadow Rider Series
“That’s ludicrous. What woman wouldn’t want to know what her man was up to? Oh, wait, that would be you, my own daughter, having an affair with the enemy. What did you think Valentino Saldi was up to, Emmanuelle? Did you really think he loved you?” Eloisa’s voice was a sneer. “Because you didn’t notice all the other women in and out of his life? Because I noticed, and I believe I pointed them out to you.”
“Eloisa.” Stefano’s voice was pure warning.
“No, let her,” Emmanuelle said. “She may as well spew all her hatred and venom at me instead of anyone else. Maybe if she does it enough she’ll find a way to be a decent human being.” Her chin went up when she faced her mother. “You did point out all the women, thank you, Eloisa, and yes, I did think Val loved me. That was my mistake. But at no time did I betray our family. I’m not worried whether or not you believe me, I only answer to Stefano.”
Eloisa opened her mouth to retaliate, her scowl of disapproval along with her flush at her daughter’s sudden defiance darkening her skin.
Vittorio intervened. “That’s enough, Eloisa. Emmanuelle has done nothing wrong. You’ve always disapproved of her . . .”
“Because you all baby her,” Eloisa nearly screamed. Her hands were two tight fists on the table. “How is she going to be strong enough to have the tools to survive if you don’t let her fall now?”
“Don’t worry, Eloisa,” Emmanuelle said in a very low tone. “I’ve fallen over and over. I got back up and I will every time. I’m a Ferraro first. I always will be. I don’t regret loving Val. I don’t believe loving anyone is wrong. He made the mistake, not me. It’s his loss. I’ll cope. But I didn’t do anything or say anything that would have led to John’s death.” She made it an absolute statement.
Vittorio turned everyone’s attention elsewhere before Eloisa could respond. “Until that investigation into the GPS on John’s vehicle is complete, we’re just spinning our wheels. What are we doing about Haydon Phillips?”
“The Grecos used the photographs to pinpoint Phillips’s location when he took them. There is always latitude and longitude embedded in the metadata,” Stefano said immediately. “Apparently, he turned the location finder off, but didn’t go into the file’s properties to disable the GPS.”
Vittorio frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. He turned off the location finder so no one could see where the photograph was taken, but didn’t go into properties to make certain the GPS feature was disabled? Phillips is thorough. I can’t imagine him missing that.”
“Not everyone knows everything about digital cameras,” Taviano pointed out. “We have to keep up with the latest technology and we’re always required to learn as it comes out.”
That was true. It just seemed to be such a lucky break. On the other hand, Vittorio knew most of the serial killers apprehended were caught on a lucky break. Detectives could pore over evidence, but it was that one thing the killer didn’t count on that tripped them up.
“The house is owned by a man by the name of Byron Fields. He’s a lawyer for Beta Corporation, a business we do some work with. It’s small, but they’re very good. They gather data on other companies and sell it to anyone interested after their initial client has had their report for ninety days.”
“Double-dipping,” Eloisa said with a sniff of disdain.
“Or smart business practices. Sometimes a company, when they see the information up on an auction block, buys it back themselves,” Giovanni said. “Beta Corporation has made some good money in the last few years. They’ve done well in the stock market. Their investigators are very good at finding out secrets.”
“What’s the plan?” Vittorio asked. He wanted to rush out that instant and make certain he could put an end to Haydon Phillips before the night was over.
“Byron’s wife is a schoolteacher and she’s at work. So is he. They have three children. One is in middle school and she’s in her classroom. The boy is in elementary and he’s in his classroom. The youngest is three and in preschool. She’s being babysat at the house until noon and then she’ll be taken to her school. The sitter won’t pick any of the kids up until three and then she takes them to various after-school programs.”
“It doesn’t matter if the family is in the house or not,” Vittorio pointed out. “We enter houses all the time with others in them. I can go now and get this over with.”
“That’s true,” Stefano said, “but we need to know he’s in there. We’ve got Raimondo with a broken-down car a block from the Fieldses’ house. Hood’s up and he’s working on it himself.”
“Raimondo?” Eloisa inquired.
Vittorio sighed. The bodyguards were all related. Close relations. It was so like Eloisa not to know them. “Raimondo Abatangelo. He’s Tomas and Cosimo’s younger brother. Good kid. Looks the part. Right age.”
She sent him an exasperated look and put her hands in the air as if that wasn’t enough information to clue her in. He knew better, but he rarely rose to Eloisa’s bait.
“Raimondo sent word that a man appearing to be homeless entered the house after waiting until the sitter drove away. Raimondo is still there, watching to make certain he doesn’t come back out, but here’s the thing. The ‘homeless’ man had a key. He entered from a fenced-in side yard where the neighbors would be less likely to spot him. The dog barked but appeared to be tied up.”
“Is that normal? The dog kept in the yard tied when it’s fenced?” Ricco asked.
“Dogs can be escape artists,” Giovanni said. “They dig.”
Eloisa gave a little shudder. She’d never allowed her children to have pets of any kind. “How do you want this done?”
“Vittorio will take Phillips down,” Stefano said. “We’ll make certain the family stays away. If for any reason they look as if they are going home while Vittorio’s there, we’ll arrange a delay quickly. Taviano will back Vittorio up just for safety reasons.”
“We can’t have a dead man stinking up someone’s home,” Eloisa said.
“We’ll leave him there and send an anonymous tip to the police in a day or two. All of us will need to be seen everywhere. We’ll get looked at because we’re tied to Phillips through Grace,” Stefano said.
Eloisa rolled her eyes, but she didn’t deliver one of her many barbs as they all stood up to go. She traveled by shadow back to her home and then Henry, her chauffeur, along with two bodyguards, took her downtown to shop.
Giovanni was the only one with a vehicle and he sauntered out to his car as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Sasha was with Suzette and he drove straight over to the Balbonis’ home and, in plain sight of every policeman watching, got out and went up the three brick steps to enter the house.
Stefano made his way home first and then got into a car with his bodyguards to be driven downtown. He made certain the window was down and his face could clearly be seen at every traffic stop. He entered the building across from Beta Corporations.
The others one by one did the same, each getting into a vehicle and going to a place of business near one of the schools where the children or their mother were. The Ferraro family members just had to be seen.
Vittorio went to Grace. “I’m going to be gone for a short time, mi amore. I’ll be back as soon as possible. I would prefer that anyone making an inquiry be told that I’m not available as I’m on a conference call, but I’ll be happy to speak to them as soon as I’m off.”
She looked up at him with her clear, far too intelligent green eyes. “Do you expect company?”
“Not that I know of, but it is possible.” He waited. She would be part of their world and that meant secrecy at all times. She couldn’t tell a soul anything he told her. Trust worked both ways and he was trusting her with his life and the lives of his family members.
Grace was used to keeping secrets and she nodded slowly. “Just be safe, Vittorio.”
“Always.” He bent down and kissed her gently.
Grace kissed him back, surrendering immediately, giving him everything he could ask for. He tasted passion, but more importantly, he tasted love.
He turned away from her and went back to his room and changed his clothes from the casual ones he wore in the house, although those clothes were made of the same materials as his suits. No Ferraro would be caught out in public in casual clothes. He caught the nearest shadow that would take him, like a thoroughfare, into the city. The tube was fast, and he barely could make out the various branches he had to dive into in order to reach his destination.
He had to use smaller shadows for a short while, moving from one to the other until there was a large one he could take that led to the suburbs. The address was in a nicer part of the city. It was a gated community, which Vittorio found rather ironic since the family had a serial killer living in their attic. From what Rigina and Rosina had written in the report Stefano had sent to each of their burner phones, some of the pictures had been taken in other residences within that same small community. The residents thought themselves safer behind that gate, but they weren’t.
He spotted Raimondo just down the street. How he had gotten through those gates was anyone’s guess, but he was trained by the best and it would have been easy enough for any one of their bodyguards to find a way in that appeared legitimate should the cops ask any questions.
Standing across the street, Vittorio studied every shadow leading to the house. The dog had settled down and was very quiet. He didn’t want to chance disturbing it. Sometimes, when they moved past, even though an animal couldn’t actually see them, the sensation was so disturbing, the dog would bark ferociously, or in some cases, fearfully.
There were several shadows leading to the front door. He couldn’t chance being seen; he would have to ensure whichever shadow he took would take him into the house. The blinds were drawn so there was no way of seeing inside. From across the street, inside the mouth of the tube, he couldn’t hear anything that was going on in the house.
Making up his mind, he took a breath and stepped into the largest shadow cast from a tree in the front yard. At once the tube pulled him into what felt like pieces, his body flying apart. The sensation of the dark cylinder spinning around him, over his head and under his feet as he streaked through, added to the sickening feeling.
He shot through the tube, the speed hurling him through so fast it was difficult to see. They’d trained from the time they were little to see under dizzying conditions, a glimpse enough for their brains to catalogue and sort out where they were and what they actually saw. Right now, he was across the street, over the lawn, up the side of the porch to the front door and inside. Abruptly the shadow ended, and he was forced to put the brakes on too fast as he was nearly hurled onto the floor of the front room.
Vittorio waited until his body adjusted to the motionless position after the wild ride. He listened for a moment. The house was eerily silent. Once he heard a creak, but it wasn’t overhead, as it should be. The noise sounded like it came from the back of the house. It was possible Phillips was moving around, making himself at home, now that the family was gone.
Vittorio stepped into a shadow that led from the front room to the hallway. The tube extended nearly to the back of the house, thrown by an overhead light left on, illuminating the way. He rode the shadow as far as possible and took one that brought him to the kitchen. The room was empty, but he could see this was where one of the entrances to the attic was. A trapdoor was built into the ceiling overhead. He could see the frame cleverly concealed by the design painted on the ceiling.
Vittorio took his time, ensuring that Phillips was in the attic and not somewhere in the house itself. He had already chosen his entry point for the attic and it wasn’t from inside the house. He retreated, going back to the front and then traveling around the house to a side yard, away from the dog and herb garden. A tree cast a perfect shadow going up the side of the house to a large grate that vented the attic. He rode straight up and into the large area without hesitation.
Phillips had made himself at home up there. There was furniture, overstuffed chairs and a low couch that had seen better days. Food wrappers were scattered on the floor, and a half-opened cooler had food items in it. Water bottles full and empty were near the couch. Phillips lay on the sofa with his back to Vittorio, curled almost in the fetal position.
Vittorio stepped from the mouth of the shadow he was in to a smaller one that took him right up to the sleeping serial killer. This man, wrapped in rags, had killed several people, torturing them first. He had impacted Grace’s life severely, terrorizing her deliberately. Vittorio stood in the shadows, hearing the sounds of the outside world, the cars going by. A lawnmower. Someone calling out a greeting to someone else. The world kept moving, but here in this attic, time had slowed.
He studied Phillips. He wasn’t moving at all. Not a single muscle. There was no restless turning over. Strangely, he’d just arrived, not more than a few minutes before Vittorio and yet he was already asleep. Soundly. Vittorio started to move forward out of the mouth of the shadow, but an alarm skittered down his back and he locked himself into position, carefully studying the body.
The body. Phillips was dead. There was no rise and fall of the rags around him to indicate he was breathing. There was no sound to give it away. Vittorio took a careful look around the attic. There was no one else there, he was certain of it. He was alone with the body. He rode the shadow that would take him closest to Phillips. Out of habit, he didn’t step from the mouth of the shadow, not wanting to leave any trace of his existence there behind.
He got very close, but stayed concealed, taking his time, examining the body. He leaned over it. Phillips’s face was grizzled, his jaw covered in gray and black stubble. Lines creased his skin. Wrinkles. His nose was large and mottled from far too much alcohol. Vittorio’s heart jumped. This man was definitely not Haydon Phillips. More, he had just died.
Haydon Phillips had known the photographs he’d sent to Grace would lead back to his hideout. He was certain the police would find his home in the Fieldses’ attic. He had deliberately lured a homeless man to the house and then killed him, leaving the body for the police to discover when they got there. He had no idea the Ferraros were the ones tracking him.
He’d been there minutes before Vittorio, waiting for the homeless man, leading him up to the attic and then killing him quickly. Vittorio smelled blood mixed with alcohol. He leaned closer and immediately saw that blood had pooled beneath the victim, soaking into the couch cushion. His throat had been cut. Caught between his right sleeve and the back of the sofa was something that looked like a piece of paper, or a photograph. Vittorio debated, but then, because he wore gloves, removed the item.
Flipping it around, his heart dropped. The photograph had been taken at the Ferraro Hotel. It was taken in the foyer of the penthouse. Stefano’s penthouse. Haydon Phillips had been inside Stefano’s home.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I don’t like this,” Vittorio said for the tenth time to Emilio. “There are too many people and no way to cover everyone.”
Emilio looked at him with cool eyes. “My worst nightmare,” he admitted. “I don’t like that Stefano insisted I come to help protect the family here, when he’s a sitting duck with Francesca in the hotel. She can’t move fast. I doubt she would agree to make a run for it. And where is safe? That little bastard seems to be able to go anywhere he pleases without getting caught.”
Vittorio took a slow look around him. Midnight Madness felt just as if it had been aptly named. The huge ballroom was decorated like the outdoors, the ceiling covered in stars, the heavy drapes covering the walls midnight blue with stars scattered over the tops of them like gems in the night sky.
Doors stood open in order to allow guests to spill outside onto the enormous patio where food and drink had been set up. The inside and outside areas merged seamlessly, and the music poured into both spaces without intruding. Vittorio knew it was that way because Grace had spoken to the band several times until she got exactly what she wanted.
Couples danced under the artificial stars with their luminous lights beckoning. He wasn’t entirely certain how Katie and Grace had pulled it off, but the décor was elegant and beautiful, carved ice sculptures and flowing waterfalls with the same luminous lights as the stars had pouring into fountains.
The event was in full swing. Vittorio recognized most of their guests, celebrities from movies and television to powerful political figures. The Saldis had a presence. Of course they’d been invited. Midnight Madness was an annual charity event that raised several million dollars each year. Teodosiu Giordano was there as well, but he had merely said hello and drifted off with the lady he’d brought with him. Eloisa wouldn’t leave out major contributors, although Giuseppi and Greta couldn’t come due to Greta’s illness taking such a toll on her.
Watching his woman work behind the scenes so that everything ran smoothly for their guests was an eye-opener. Grace didn’t miss a beat. She was always polite. Always. She started with a smile, but when things didn’t go exactly as she had specified, things quickly got done under her watchful eye. She orchestrated dozens of things for the guests, making certain their names were at the right table and they were seated beside those they particularly liked. She made certain enemies were tables apart. She had an eye for developing trouble and stopped it before it got out of hand.
“I’ve checked with Stefano numerous times,” Emilio continued their conversation. “He says he’s fine. He claims he doesn’t believe Phillips made it into his home.” There was a note of worry in his voice, something unusual for Emilio. “I personally went over the security measures at the hotel. If he did get in there, and the photograph was clearly of Stefano’s foyer, he’s much cleverer than I am. I couldn’t figure out how he did it.”
