A man with a thin ring of hair around the back of his head appeared behind Freya, fear and hope warring in his eyes. This would be Uncle Harry.
The man confirmed it. “I’m Harry Smith, Sophie’s uncle. You’re her cop.”
Her cop. Vito’s heart broke a little more. “Let’s find a place to talk.”
“Sophie?” Harry said when they’d sat down in a small family waiting room.
Vito looked at his hands, then back up. “She’s still missing.”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why would anyone hurt our Sophie?”
Vito watched the corner of Freya’s mouth tighten. A tiny movement, probably caused by stress. He wasn’t sure. What he did know was that the man before him was the closest thing Sophie had ever had to a real father and he deserved to know the truth.
“Sophie was helping us with a case. It’s gotten some press coverage.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “The graves the old man discovered with a metal detector?”
“That’s the one. For the last week we’ve been tracking the man who killed all those people.” He drew a breath. “We have reason to believe he abducted Sophie.”
Harry paled. “My God. They found nine bodies up there.”
Now there were five more, perhaps six considering Alan Brewster had never been found. But Harry didn’t need to know that. “We’re doing everything we can to find her.”
“My mother’s heart attack,” Freya said slowly. “It happened not an hour before Sophie was taken. The timing can’t be coincidental.”
Vito thought of the look on Nurse Marco’s face when he’d told her about the tape and the tampering. She’d been, as he’d anticipated, both hurt and relieved. He wondered what Freya Smith’s response would be. “We know it wasn’t. The killer tampered with your mother’s IV, injected a high concentration of potassium chloride.” Probably a coarse grade, Jen had thought. The kind used to melt ice on roofs and streets, available at any hardware store this time of year.
Freya’s mouth pressed to a hard line. “He tried to kill my mother. To get to Sophie.”
Vito frowned, not at the words, but by the way in which she said them. Apparently Harry was as well. An expression of appalled shock crossed his face.
“Freya, Sophie didn’t cause this.” When Freya said nothing, Harry rose unsteadily to his feet. “Freya? Sophie’s gone. A man who killed nine people has our Sophie.”
Freya began to cry. “Your Sophie,” she spat. “Always your Sophie.” She looked up at him. “You have two daughters, Harry. What about them?”
“I love Paula and Nina,” he said, his shock becoming anger. “How dare you insinuate otherwise? But Paula and Nina have always had us. Sophie had no one.”
Freya’s face contorted. “Sophie had Anna.”
Harry paled further, then dark red stained his cheekbones as realization began to dawn. “I always thought it was because of Lena. That you couldn’t love Sophie because she was Lena’s. But it was because of Anna. Because Anna took her in.”
Freya was sobbing now. “She gave up everything for that girl. Her house, her career. She never stayed home for us. But for Sophie… Everything was for Sophie. And now my mother’s lying in there, dying.” She choked on a sob. “Because of Sophie.”
Vito let out a breath. Freya the Good wasn’t so good.
“My God, Freya,” Harry said quietly. “Who are you?”
She buried her face in her hands. “Go away, Harry. Just go away.”
Shaking, Harry walked outside the little waiting room and slumped against the wall. With a look of bewildered contempt at the sobbing Freya, Vito joined him. Harry’s eyes were closed, his face drawn. “I never understood before tonight.”
“You were wrong about something,” Vito said softly.
Harry swallowed hard, but opened his eyes. “What’s that?”
“Sophie didn’t have ‘no one.’ She had you. She told me you were her real father, that she didn’t think she’d ever told you that before.”
Harry’s throat worked. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely.
Vito squared his shoulders. “She had you and Anna. And now she has me. And I’m going to find her.” His own throat closed, but he forced the words out. “And I’ll love her, Harry, and give her the home she’s always wanted. You have my word.”
Harry held his gaze, weighing both the promise Vito had made and his own response. “I told her that there was someone out there for her. That she just needed to be patient and wait.”
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.