Karen Rose - Die for Me

Patient and wait. Patience wasn’t something Vito had a whole lot of right now. He knew Liz had told him to go home, but he couldn’t. He owed Sophie more than patience and waiting. “I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” Vito said. “When I’ve found her.”

Vito walked a few steps, then thought again of the tape. “Anna’s nurse, Lucy Marco? Her quick thinking saved Anna’s life.”

Harry closed his eyes. “We yelled at her,” he murmured. “She told us she’d made a mistake with Anna’s IV and we yelled at her. I promise I’ll make that right.”

Vito had expected no other reply. “Good. You should also know that the young man whose father owns the museum risked his life to stop the man who took Sophie.”

Harry’s eyes blinked open. “You mean Theo Four? Sophie didn’t think he liked her.”

Vito thought about the worry in the eyes of all the Albrights, both for Theo, who’d sustained serious internal injuries when Simon had backed over him with his van, and for Sophie. “They all like her, Harry. They’re terrified for her.”

Harry nodded unsteadily. “Theo. Will he be all right?”

“They hope so. It’s touch and go.”

Again he nodded. “Do they need… anything?”

Vito sighed. “Insurance. They didn’t have any. No money.” Insurance. Simon had stolen his. Vito sucked in a breath as it hit him like a sucker punch. In all the flash of this case he’d forgotten the most fundamental principle. Follow the money.

“What?” Harry grabbed his arm, panicked. “What?”

Vito clasped the older man’s shoulder. “I had a thought. I have to go.” Then he took off for the elevator, dialing ADA Maggy Lopez as he ran.

Saturday, January 20, 9:50

P.M.

He’d plugged his leg into the wall just in time. He’d been so busy lately, he’d run the battery until it was almost dead. It would take hours to fully charge. He had other legs, but none provided the same range of motion or reliability of movement as the microprocessor he’d acquired from participation in Pfeiffer’s study, and he had the feeling killing Sophie Johannsen would require that he have a physical edge.

He thought about her in full costume, swinging that battleax over her head. No fragile flower, she. Yes, he’d need every advantage Pfeiffer’s unit could give him.

Sitting on the bed in his studio, he paused, considering the issue of Dr. Pfeiffer. Pfeiffer and that nurse of his were helping the cops. It was the only explanation for the phone call he’d received. Come and get your lubricant. Ha. He’d honestly thought better of Ciccotelli than that. It was a damn good thing he hadn’t allowed Pfeiffer’s nurse to photograph him. Otherwise, Ciccotelli would also know his true face. That could present problems the next time he chose to surface with a new life.

With the death of Sophie Johannsen, all that would be left were the old man’s spawn. He smiled, suddenly eager for a family reunion. Especially Daniel. He looked at the trap on the table next to his unfinished matrix. That his beautifully planned graveyard would go unfinished gnawed at him. He would have to make up for it by finishing what his brother had started so many years ago. He’d dreamed of his revenge so many times… Maybe he’d dream of Daniel snared like an animal tonight.

But he was too restless to sleep. Had his leg been charged, he’d go for a run. He’d need to work off this nervous energy another way, and he had just the right thing. Pulling on his old leg, he crossed to the doors set into the stairwell. Opening them, he smiled. Brewster lay curled in a fetal ball, bound hands and feet. But he breathed.

“Have you given up hope yet, Brewster?”

The bound man’s eyelids flickered, but he made not the slightest noise. Not even a whimper. He could take Brewster standing one-legged in a hurricane. But he had other plans for Alan Brewster. “You know, Alan, I’ve never properly thanked you. You were the hub that brought my support staff together. How fortuitous that your name was one of the first I found when I searched for experts in medieval warfare. And how fortuitous that you associate with such… helpful merchants.” He pulled Brewster so that he sat up, his back propped against the wall.

“Thank you, by the way, for telling me about Dr. Johannsen, back from France and-how did you put it? A most able assistant. You were quite right. I found her expertise most helpful. Of course, our view on her specific expertise is quite different. I’m glad you were too busy reveling in the baser thoughts to fully utilize her academic assets.”

He stood looking Brewster over, framing the scene in his mind. Van Zandt had been right about needing a regal queen, and after much consideration, he’d agreed VZ was right about the flail scene too. He needed something more dramatic.

VZ had wanted to see someone explode. Simon smiled. And he’d given VZ his wish, up close and personal. This time, he’d capture it on tape.

Saturday, January 20, 9:55

P.M.

Vito caught up with Maggy Lopez as she was entering the precinct. “Maggy. Thanks for coming.” He took her elbow and hastened her toward the elevator. “We have to hurry. He’s had Sophie for five hours now.” And he was using every ounce of concentration not to think about what Simon could have done to her in those five hours.

Maggy was jogging to keep up with him. “I’m gonna break my ankle. Slow down.”

He slowed a little, chafing at every minute that slipped away. “I need your help.”

“I figured that out.” She drew a breath when they stopped at the elevator. “Exactly what do you need, Vito?”

The elevator doors opened and he ushered her in. “I need access to Simon Vartanian’s financial records.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll get a warrant started, using all the same aliases we used to get his medical records from Pfeiffer.” Her eyes narrowed. “But you could have asked me to do that on the phone. What do you want, Vito?”

The elevator dinged and he tugged her into the hall outside the homicide bullpen. Maggie stopped and yanked her arm away. “Stop it. What do you want, Vito?”

He drew a breath. “We can’t wait for a warrant, Maggy. There’s no time. Simon bought things. He had to have a money source. I have to find that source.”

“So we subpoena bank records, canceled checks.” She frowned at him. “Legally.”

“I don’t have canceled checks. I don’t have a single thing he bought. Dammit,” Vito hissed. “He’s had Sophie for five hours. If these aren’t exigent circumstances, I don’t know what the hell is. You know people who can get this information quickly. Please.”

She faltered. “Vito… last time I helped you, a man died.”

Vito struggled for calm. “You said Van Zandt would have made bail anyway. Besides, he deserved to die. Sophie doesn’t. ”

She closed her eyes. “You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies, Vito.”

Vito grabbed her shoulders and her eyes flew open. Ignoring the warning flare in her eyes, he tightened his grip. “If I don’t find her, he will torture and kill her. I’m begging you, Maggy. Please. Anything you can do. Please. ”

“God, Vito.” He held his breath as indecision warred in her eyes, then she sighed. “Fine. I’ll make some calls.”

He exhaled slowly, able to breathe once more. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said darkly and pushed past him into the bullpen.

Brent Yelton was waiting for them at Vito’s desk. “I got here as fast as I could.”

Maggy shot Vito a glare. “Your own hacker? Pretty sure of yourself, hotshot.”

Vito refused to feel guilty. “You can use Nick’s desk, Maggy.”