“Oscar? Doesn’t seem too uncommon for a young guy who wanted to be an actor.”
“No, that’s not it.” Vito shook his head. “I went to visit Tess in Chicago a while back and she took me to a museum where they were exhibiting the Oscar statues that were going to be given at the Academy Awards that year.” He looked up over his shoulder. “The company that makes the statues is in Chicago.”
“Okay,” Nick said slowly. “And?”
Vito visualized the statue and the memory clicked. “Oscar is a knight.”
“What?”
“Yeah, he’s a knight.” Excited now, Vito did a Google search and pulled up a close-up of the Oscar statue itself. “Look at his hands. Just like Warren’s were posed.”
Nick whistled softly. “Hell’s bells. Look at that. He’s holding a freaking sword. If Oscar were lyin’ down, he’d be the spittin’ image of the boy in the morgue.”
“Not a coincidence,” Vito said firmly. “He picked Warren because of the tattoo.”
“Or he posed Warren because of the tattoo.”
“No, he planned this. He’d posed the woman’s hands weeks before. God, Nick. Warren got picked because of his damn tattoo.”
“Shit.” Nick sat down. “I wonder if the girl’s picture is in here too.”
“And the guy without half his head. And the boy with the bullet between his eyes.” Vito checked his watch. “Tino’s been at the morgue since seven. Maybe he’s got something we can use.”
As if on cue, the elevator dinged and Tino walked into the bullpen. Vito winced. His younger brother’s face was haggard and drawn, his dark eyes stark. “I shouldn’t have asked him to do this.”
“He’ll live,” Nick insisted, then stood up. “Hey, Tino.” He pulled up a chair. “Sit.”
Tino sat, heavily. “How do you do it, Vito? Look at those people, every day?”
“It’s an acquired skill,” Nick answered for him. “What d’ya got for us?”
Tino held out an envelope. “I have no idea if this is anywhere close. I did my best.”
“It’s better than we had before,” Vito told him. “I’m sorry, Tino. I shouldn’t have-”
“Stop,” Tino interrupted. “I’m okay and yes, you should have. It was just more intense than I’d expected.” He made his mouth smile. “I’ll live.”
“That’s what I told him.” Nick slid the drawing from the envelope. From the page stared a serious female face and Vito could see his brother had captured the girl’s facial structure. But more than that was a poignant sadness that Vito suspected was Tino’s own feelings coming through as he’d sketched. It was beautifully done.
Nick hummed his approval. “Wow. How come you can’t draw like this, Vito?”
“Because he sings,” Tino answered wearily. “And Dino teaches, Gino builds, and Tess cooks like a goddess.” He blew out a sigh. “And on that note, I’m going home, Vito. Tess should be there with the boys and I’m going to see if she’ll make me supper.” He licked his lips with distaste. “Anything to get this taste out of my mouth.”
Vito remembered Sophie’s beef jerky. “Tell Tess to make it spicy, and save me some. Oh, and tell her to take my room. I’ll bunk on the sofa.”
Tino stood up. “Your ME showed me the other bodies, Vito. I don’t think I can do anything for the guy…” He grimaced. “You know. Without a head. And the kid with the bullet is too far gone. Same for the kid with the shrapnel. You’ll need-”
“Whoa.” Vito stopped him with a raised hand. “What shrapnel?”
“Your ME called him one-four.”
Nick frowned. “Shrapnel? What the hell?”
“Sounds like we have some catching up to do in the morgue,” Vito said grimly. “I’m sorry, Tino. Go on. We’ll need what?”
“I was just going to say you’ll need a forensic anthropologist to reconstruct their faces. But the two old people I might be able to do. I can come back tomorrow and try.”
Vito felt a stirring of pride. “We’d appreciate it.”
Zipping up his coat, Tino shot them a lopsided grin. “I expect a recommendation. Who knows, I might have found a new career. God knows art doesn’t pay anything.”
“Where’s that stack of missing persons reports?” Nick asked when Tino was gone. “We can search this UCanModel site using the missing-persons names that fit the girl’s profile, then compare the photos to Tino’s drawing.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Monday, January 15, 9:55
P.M.
Nick tossed the missing persons printout to Vito’s desk in disgust. “That was the last one.” He glared at the UCanModel site on the computer screen. “She’s not in there.”
“Or she’s not in there.” Vito pointed to the printout. “Maybe she wasn’t declared a missing person. Or maybe she’s not local. Just because Warren was from Philly doesn’t mean she was. I’m not ready to give up yet.”
“Fuck,” Nick grumbled. “It would have been so sweet to find her fast.”
“Go home,” Vito said. “I’ll keep searching while I wait for Jeff’s computer tech to comb Sherry’s hard drive. I’ll check each model face by face if I have to.”
“There have to be five thousand names in there. You’ll be here all damn night.”
“Maybe not.” Vito ran the cursor over all the drop-down menus. “I can’t imagine that photographers looking for models are gonna scroll one picture at a time. They’d want to be able to look at all the blondes or brunettes, short or tall. Whatever.”
Nick sat up a little straighter. “So you could narrow the field. You know she was a brunette, five-foot-two, with short hair and blue eyes.”
“The eyes and hair are changeable. She could always wear contacts or a wig. But the height doesn’t change.” Vito squinted at the screen. “You can search, then sort by physical characteristics. So we search for five-foot-two and sort by hair color, then eye color.” He filled in the fields and clicked search. “You go home, I’ll stay here.”
“Hell, no. It’s just getting interesting again. Besides, you could find some cute girls on this site. They even list their bra size. What more do you want?”
“Nick.” Rolling his eyes, Vito shook his head.
“Hey, I’m single again and I don’t have time for bars.” His expression went sly. “Nor do I have the likes of Sophie Johannsen interested in me.”
She was interested. Vito swallowed hard. If she’d been any more interested he would have needed CPR. But she didn’t want to be. She’d turned him down, yet again. Last night it had been a misunderstanding. Tonight he suspected she understood all too well, even if he didn’t. So he ignored Nick and stared at the screen. “Only a hundred results. Her being short was good. Most of the models are tall.”
“Like Sophie.”
“Nick,” Vito gritted. “Shut up.”
Nick gave him a puzzled look. “You’re serious, aren’t you? I just assumed-”
“Well, you assumed wrong. And I’m not going to push this time.”
Nick seemed to chew on that for a minute. “Okay. Then let’s work.”
Vito clicked through each model’s portfolio, then stopped and blinked. “God, Tino is good.” The face staring out at them was the exact image of Tino’s drawing.
“I’ll say.” Nick leaned in for a closer look, very sober now. “Brittany Bellamy. Hell, Chick. She wasn’t even twenty. Click ‘contact.’”
Vito did, but it was an e-mail form. “They don’t give phone numbers or even geographical info, and I don’t want to send an e-mail. If we’re right, she won’t answer.”