Vito chuckled. “Jen, have your handwriting guy compare that writing to the signature on the letter, too. It’s numbers versus letters, but maybe he can match something. Good job, Brent. What else?”
“The church. You know how Simon mentioned a church on the tape? Well, after the fight scene where Bill Melville dies, it goes to a cut scene. You go into a crypt and see two tomb effigies. Woman’s hands folded in prayer, the man holding a sword.”
“Warren and Brittany,” Vito said. “What then?”
“Well, you’re in a crypt, which is attached to a church. And from the church you descend to the dungeon.”
Vito sat up. “You mean he shows the church?”
Brent winced. “Yes, but no. The church itself is a model of a French abbey, a famous one. Simon doesn’t create, but he does one hell of a copy job.”
“So is he killing in a church, or were his references on the tape just symbolic?” Vito asked. “Thomas?”
“I’m betting they’re symbolic,” Thomas said. “Most churches around here wouldn’t have the look he wanted anyway, he’s so stuck on authenticity. And anything that big is going to be in a neighborhood or close to people. People would hear, and he said ‘no one can hear you.’ But, on the off chance I’m wrong, we could check churches that are built in areas on Jen’s USDA soil map.”
“Okay.” Vito considered. “We have our next steps. Exhume whoever’s buried in Simon’s tomb, just to be sure it’s not him. Get Simon’s records from Dr. Pfeiffer. Find that second blackmailer. Check out Sophie’s student and the churches on Jen’s map. And find Van Zandt. He was on the turnpike in Pennsylvania yesterday, and according to Charles and Carlos, he hasn’t come back to his place in Manhattan yet. They put an APB on him, including all the airports, in case he tries to skip the country.” Vito looked around the table. “Anything else?”
“Just that Kay Crawford sends her thanks,” Brent said. “She doesn’t know much about the investigation, but she knows enough to understand she barely escaped from something very bad. She wanted me to tell you all thank you.”
“And did she thank you?” Liz asked him, mild amusement in her eyes.
Brent tried to bite back his smile but wasn’t successful. “Not yet. She asked me to dinner and I told her I’d go when this was all over. Hey,” he protested when Nick snickered, “how else would a guy like me get to go out with a hot six-foot-tall blonde?”
Vito’s smile disappeared. “What?”
Brent looked around. Everyone was frowning. “She’s a tall blonde. What did I say?”
“Do you have a picture of her?” Nick asked.
“Just the one on the UCanModel site.” Brent pulled it up and Vito’s heart stopped.
“Oh my God,” he whispered.
“What?” Brent demanded.
Nick’s face was grim. “She looks like Sophie Johannsen.”
Jen looked ill. “Now we know why Simon’s lost interest in this model.”
“Because he’s picked Sophie instead.” Katherine’s voice trembled. “Vito.”
“I know.” Vito swallowed back his fear. “Liz, we-”
“I’ll send a uniform to the museum,” Liz said. “Sophie will have 24/7 protection until we have Simon in custody. He won’t touch her, Vito.”
Shakily, Vito nodded. “Thanks. Let’s go. Stay safe. And let’s find him. Please.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Friday, January 19, 9:30
A.M.
Sophie.”
Sophie looked up from her computer to find an irate Ted the Third standing in her office doorway. “Ted.”
“Don’t you ‘Ted’ me. What’s this all about?” Ted demanded. “Cops dropping you off at work is one thing, but now cops are in my museum. What the hell is going on?”
Sophie sighed. “I’m sorry, Ted. I didn’t know about this until a half hour ago myself. I’m helping the police with a case.”
“By answering their history questions. Yes, I remember.”
“Well, somebody didn’t like me helping them. They think I might be in some danger. So they sent someone to watch over me. It’s only temporary.”
Ted expression swung from ire to concern. “My God. That’s why they’ve been driving you around all week. Your car and bike are fine.”
“Well, my bike’s not. Somebody dumped sugar in my tank.” But Amanda Brewster had been smart enough to wear gloves. The police hadn’t found a single print.
“Sophie, don’t try to distract me. What does this person look like?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sophie.” Ted’s brows snapped together. “If someone’s threatening you, that puts this whole museum at risk. Tell me.”
Sophie shook her head. “I would if I could. But I honestly don’t know.” He could be young, old. He could be any face in any crowd. He’d stalked his own sister for a year and she hadn’t recognized him. A chill ran down Sophie’s back. She could be looking right at him and not have a clue. “If you want me to leave, I will.”
Ted blew out a breath. “No, I don’t want you to leave. We’ve got four tours scheduled today.” He looked at her with wry affection. “This isn’t an elaborate ploy to get out of being Joan, is it?”
She laughed. “I wish I’d thought of it, but no.”
Ted sobered. “If you’re in danger, scream for us.”
Another chill ran down her back, harder this time, and she felt her smile slide right off her face. “Okay. I will.”
Ted glanced at his watch. “Unfortunately, the show must go on. You’re the Viking queen at ten. Better get into makeup.”
Atlanta, Georgia, Friday, January 19, 10:30
A.M.
Frank Loomis met them at the airport. “I’m so sorry to hear about your parents.”
“Thanks, Frank,” Daniel said. Susannah said very little. She looked fragile. After finding out Simon had been stalking her for the past year, both of them were on edge.
“I have to tell you, Daniel, it didn’t take much for word to spread through town that we’re diggin’ up Simon’s grave. Y’all need to prepare to face some reporters.”
Daniel helped Susannah into Frank’s car. “When will they start digging?”
“Sometime after two, most likely.”
Daniel got in the front passenger seat and turned to check on Susannah, only to find her lifting the top off a copy-paper box. “What is it?”
“Your parents’ mail,” Frank answered. “I went by the post office and picked it all up this morning. There are another three boxes in the trunk. I had Wanda do some sorting, so most of the non-junk mail is in that box you have there, Suzie.”
“Thank you.” Susannah swallowed hard. “Welcome home to us.”
Philadelphia, Friday, January 19, 10:45
A.M.
Vito leaned into the sign-in counter. “Miss Savard.”
“Detective.” Pfeiffer’s receptionist looked at Nick with interest. “And this would be?”
“Detective Lawrence,” Nick answered. “Can we talk to Dr. Pfeiffer?”
“He’s with a patient right now, but I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Pfeiffer himself came to the waiting room door. “Detectives.” He led them back to his office and shut the door. “Did you find the person who killed Claire Reynolds?”
“Not yet,” Vito said, “but another one of your patients has come up in the course of our investigation.” They all sat down, Pfeiffer with a sigh.
“I can’t discuss my live patients, Detective. As much as I’d like to help you.”
“We knew that,” Nick said. “We came with a court order so that you could help us.”
Pfeiffer’s brows went up. He held out his hand. “Well, let’s have it.”