'Is nothing sacred any more?'
'Doesn't seem so. Some of my colleagues in public health discovered that the kids over there were pulling skulls out of the earth, cleaning them up and selling them in street markets.'
'So you thought that might have been the case here? Another field of Golgotha?'
'Right up until we confirmed the burning and breaking of the bones. That changed things a little.'
Sylvia waved her torch at the crime scene. 'This isn't the kind of place many people would come at night. I don't see our guy killing his victims out here, do you?'
Jack shook his head. It was really off the beaten track. Secluded. Miles from anywhere. 'I agree. This isn't the kind of place you can build a pyre, tie someone to a stake and set them alight. Too risky. Too open.'
'And anyway, I guess it'd be too awkward to bring her up here, control her and kill her in that kind of way?'
'Absolutely. He had somewhere else. Somewhere private. Some place no one could see the fire. Or if anyone did see it, then they would never think anything sinister was happening.'
Jack pictured Francesca being burned alive. Imagined her killer standing back and watching her die. Was he smiling? Laughing? Masturbating? He turned slowly. The bleached white beam of his flashlight played over the bushes and into the trees. If he killed her some place else, then why bury her here? Why not drop the bones down some distant drains? Scatter them in far-off garbage sites. Dump them in the nearby bay. What was the significance of this place? 'We seem to have stopped climbing. Am I right?' Jack queried.
'Well, if you'd have come in daylight,' she teased, 'then yes, you would instantly have noticed that this area is flat – or, at least, flatter than most of the land.' She pointed her beam of light into the distance and it flashed like a Star Wars light sabre. 'The ground climbs just a little over there. I wish you could see clearly because there's a wonderful view of Vesuvius from here – in the daylight, that is.'
Jack looked troubled. 'The volcano, this parkland, they have a special meaning for the killer, or his victims. Do any of the women have any ties to this area, any links that I should know of?'
Sylvia shook her head. 'None that we know of. We've only just started looking at the cases, but certainly Francesca didn't have any real links to this place.'
'Then it's the killer. The place holds some special significance for him.'
Sylvia turned in the dark towards the black peak of Vesuvius. 'What significance? I guess it's too early to hope you have any idea?'
Jack gazed into the distance. Tried to fish a connection out of the darkness. 'That's the mystery we have to solve. And we have to do it quickly. Like we said, this is the worst kind of killer. And the worst kind not only kills again, it always happens sooner than you expect.'
35
Campeggio Castellani, Pompeii Rosa Novello snuggled up to her boyfriend's arm as Filippo Valdrano drove his father's barely roadworthy old Fiat to the back of the campsite. He had the perfect spot in mind. A place where they could be alone. Away from the prying eyes of their parents.
The two families had been holidaying together for years, and since he and Rosa had become engaged their parents' attention had been suffocating. It was a relief to be on their own.
'Here's okay. Don't you think?' He drew to a halt and pulled up the handbrake. 'It's near the woods we walked in the other day.'
'It's just fine.' She leaned over and kissed him as he turned the engine off.
Filippo swooned, slipped down the straps of her pink top and nuzzled her neck.
'Wait!' she said playfully. 'Let's at least put the radio on. Get romantic. We don't have to rush.'
'Oh, baby. You don't know how wrong you are. I need to rush. I really need to rush!'
She pushed him away and twirled the dial, her heartbeat as loud as the crackling FM static.
Filippo pulled his T-shirt over his head and she instantly gave up on the music. God, he was hot! Muscled shoulders, rippling abs, not a pinch of flab. She pushed her mouth against his again and felt her breath escaping.
He pulled away. 'Wait! Hold on, wait!' He was teasing now, pulling away from her.
She stared at him. 'Oh, you really want to wait, do you?'
He tried to look disinterested as she slowly peeled off her top and then slowly released her pale-yellow, front-fastening bra.
All his coolness disappeared.
He lunged forward to put his mouth to her breasts.
'Oh, no, no, no!' She pressed the flat of her palm against his forehead and held him back. 'You said wait, so you can wait.'
Christ, he wanted her, ached for her. 'Let's push these seats forward and get in the back.'
'Now, that's the best idea you've had,' grinned Rosa. She kicked off her gold pumps, unzipped her white jeans and wriggled out of them. She arched her back to slip off her pale-yellow panties and, as she did, he kissed the flat of her stomach. She smelled of coconut body lotion. He cupped her buttocks with his hands and kissed and licked the inside of her thighs.
Rosa wriggled free, laughing as she climbed into the back. Filippo tugged off his shoes and pants. The heat from their bodies was already steaming up the car. 'I'll open the window a little,' he said. He rolled down the passenger side and felt her hand gently rubbing his balls. Her fingers slipped inside his Calvin's and he gasped as she held him.
'Jesus, let me get back there!' Filippo caught a foot on the handbrake as he climbed over but he was beyond feeling pain. Right now there was nothing in the world that could keep him from his woman's body. Or so he thought.
36
Campeggio Castellani, Pompeii A shrill scream scythed through the woods. It flew, unseen, like a bat in the blackness of the winter night. Then it thudded to its death against the misted windows of Filippo's father's car.
'Ma che cazzo e? What the fuck was that?' Rosa pushed Filippo away.
They froze. Stared silently at each other. Afraid to move. Then another chilling cry ripped the night apart.
'It's a woman screa-'
Filippo never finished. The next noise was even more distinct and terrifying.
It was a bullet.
Gunfire.
Filippo slid naked into the driver's seat and turned on the engine and the lights. Whatever was going down was happening close, real close. Too close.
The car's wheels spun on the soft wet grass. There was no traction. Mud sprayed as the old Fiat lurched forward. The wheels wallowed in the earth as he tried to make a full U-turn. Tried desperately to head back the way they'd come. The car carried on drifting. He straightened her up and turned the beams on full.
Right ahead he could see something. A light of some sort. Safety!
Another gunshot rang out.
A God-awful loud bark. So loud it seemed to bite a lump out of the sky.
It had come from near the light, now less than twenty metres ahead of them.
Filippo slammed on the brakes. The car went into an uncontrollable slide.
'Fuuck! ' shouted Rosa as she was thrown against the back of the driver's seat.
He wanted to reach out and help, but he couldn't. The car was skidding towards a deep dip in the field. Sliding into a pit filled with fire.
Filippo jerked the handbrake up as hard as he could. Rosa crashed into a rear window. He twisted the steering wheel as far as it would go. The skid seemed to last an eternity.
Finally, the old car rocked to a stop. They were less than a metre from the edge of the pit.
'You okay?' He put his hand on his girlfriend's naked shoulder.
Rosa rubbed her head. She'd have an ugly lump there in the morning. 'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Let's get out of here. I'm scared.'
Filippo nodded. The car had stalled. He jammed it into neutral and quickly turned the key. The engine chugged but didn't catch. 'Flooded. I'll try again.' Clutch in, foot flat on the accelerator. He did everything he'd seen his father do. Turned the key again and prayed.