The hand in her hair sagged, dragging her so that she knelt at Simon’s side, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle. She could see up, but not down. From the corner of her eye she saw Vito step back and holster his gun.
What sounded like an army thundered across the floor upstairs and down the stairs.
“Scene is secure,” Vito said loudly, but his voice shook. “Call an ambulance.”
Sophie could smell the acrid odor of gunpowder and the iron scent of blood. A wave of nausea hurled up from her stomach. “Get his hand out of my hair,” she gritted out. Then she sagged against Daniel as he worked Simon’s big hand out from under her braid. Carefully he laid her down on her back and she clenched her eyes against the sharp pain in her side.
“Merde,” she muttered. “Goddamn, this hurts.”
“Chick?” It was Nick’s voice from the stairs. “What happened?”
Vito scrambled to her side. “Call another ambulance, Nick. Sophie’s hit.” Using the blade, he cut the gown into strips and pushed them against her, stemming the flow.
“It’s not deep,” he said. “It’s not deep.”
She grimaced. “Still hurts like hell. Tell me he’s dead.”
“Yeah,” Vito said. “He’s dead.”
Sophie looked over to where Simon lay, less then three feet between them, sightlessly staring at the ceiling. He had two more wounds, one in his head and the other in his chest. She was grimly satisfied to see the sword still stuck in his gut.
“I guess Katherine will figure out which one of us killed him,” she said.
“You can’t feel guilty, Sophie,” Vito murmured. “You had no choice.”
Sophie scoffed. “Guilty? I hope it was my sword that killed the fucker. Although whoever got the headshot is probably taking home the grand prize.”
“That would have been me,” Vito said.
“Good,” Sophie said. She looked up at Daniel who had grabbed the skinny blade and was sawing through the rope that bound her hands. “Sorry.”
“For what?” Daniel asked. “That he’s dead or that I don’t get the grand prize?”
She studied him through narrowed eyes. “Whichever answer is the right one.”
Daniel laughed softly. “I think we did the world a service today. So, Sophie, other than the knife wound, are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Maybe my tongue.” She stuck it out and both men flinched.
Daniel gently took her chin, angling her face toward the light. “My God, girl, you nearly bit it clear through. You might need stitches there, too.”
“But I didn’t scream,” she said with satisfaction. “Not until I heard you upstairs.”
Daniel smiled grimly. “Good for you, Sophie.” He took one of her hands and started rubbing her wrist where the rope had chafed.
Vito took her other hand, and his were shaking now. “My God. Sophie.”
“I’m all right, Vito.”
“She’s all right,” Daniel repeated and Vito’s eyes snapped up to glare at Daniel.
“What the hell kind of negotiation was that?” he ground out in fury. “‘No, you won’t walk away. I won’t let you.’ What the fuck kind of negotiation was that?”
“Vito,” Sophie murmured.
“You wouldn’t have let him leave,” Daniel said. “You know that. Simon hated to be told what to do, by anyone. I could only hope he’d get mad and Sophie could use it to her advantage.” He smiled down at her. “You did good, kid.”
“Thank you.”
“I need to tell Suze.” Daniel stood up. “I’m sorry, Vito. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He shuddered. “It’s okay. She’s safe. He’s dead. I’m happy.” When Daniel had walked back up the stairs, Sophie squeezed Vito’s hand.
“My gran?”
“Holding on.”
Sophie drew her first good breath, despite the pain in her side. “Thank you.”
Vito smiled down at her unsteadily. “That was some fancy sword work.”
Her lips curved. “My father and I used to fence. Alex was a champion, but I wasn’t too bad. If Simon had seen the Joan tour, he would have known that.”
Vito remembered the way she flourished the sword to the delight of the children on the tour. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to watch her do so again. “Maybe we should retire Joan. Expand your repertoire,” he added, mimicking Nick’s drawl.
Sophie closed her eyes. “That’s a good plan. But I don’t think I’m touching Marie Antoinette with a ten-foot pole after this.”
Vito brought her hands to his lips, his laugh shaky. “There’s always that topless Celtic Warrior Queen.”
“Boudiccea,” she murmured as new footsteps thundered down the stairs. The paramedics were here. “The after-hours X-rated tour. Ted’ll have Theo’s college tuition saved up in no time.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sunday, January 21, 7:50
A.M.
Vito, come and check this out.” Nick motioned Vito back in the house. “Upstairs.”
From Selma Crane’s driveway, Vito watched the ambulance carrying Sophie pull away and squaring his shoulders, went inside to do his job. He got upstairs and took a slow turn, his eyes wide. “I suspect this was not the way Selma Crane left the place.”
“Um, no. But what you really need to see is over here.”
Simon Vartanian had made himself at home. Gone were all the interior walls on the upper floor. With the exception of a king-size bed in the far corner and a state-of-the-art computer station, the entire space was a huge studio. Vito joined Nick at the far wall and moved sideways, studying the macabre series of paintings.
For a very long moment, Vito could only stare and wonder at the mind that had been able to… create this. For they weren’t simply copies. Simon Vartanian had achieved something in his victim’s eyes. A light or maybe the extinguishing of a light. “The moment of death,” he murmured.
“He was experimenting with the stages of death by torture,” Nick said. “Claire Dies, Zachary Dies, Jared Dies, then series for Bill, Brittany, Warren, and Greg.”
“So our last victim is named Jared. It’s a start.”
“We might never know who he is. Simon might not have known more than the boy’s first name. He kept good records for all of his ‘models,’ but not Jared.” Nick motioned him to Simon’s computer, where a folder sat in the middle of a spotless desk. Nick put his hand on the folder when Vito reached for it. “Remember Sophie’s okay. All right?”
Vito nodded, then ground his teeth in new anger when he saw what was inside the folder. “Photos of Sophie’s Viking tour.” She stood in front of awestruck children, her expression intent as she held the battle-ax over her head. He closed the folder. “I’m just glad he didn’t see the Joan tour. That element of surprise saved her life.”
“Look at this.” It was a diagram linking Kyle Lombard to Clint Shafer and Clint to Sophie in a vertical line. Alan Brewster’s name was connected to all three.
“So Alan was involved,” Vito said.
“That would be my guess.”
Vito narrowed his eyes. “You found Brewster?”
“I think so. I did find out what the squeaking sound was on the tape.” He walked to the wall that ran along the staircase and opened a small door. “A dumbwaiter.”
Vito looked inside with a grimace. The man inside was nude and missing most of his head. “It almost looks like his head… exploded.” He leaned in to study the man’s hand. “His signet ring says AB, so I’d bet this was Brewster.”
“The dumbwaiter goes all the way down to the basement and also has a loading area on the first floor. It’s how Simon got his victims and heavy equipment downstairs. It looks like he might have even brought his dead victims up here to paint them.”