Viper

Gina put her arm around her father's waist, hugged him and then rested her head on his left shoulder. 'I still miss her too, you know.'

'I know you do, sweetheart.' He kissed the top of her head. 'All these years, and the loss still hurts like it was yesterday.' He moved half a pace away from Gina and took her hand. 'Anyway, let's not be sad. We have happy memories and happy things to look forward to.' He lightly patted her tummy. 'Any more grandchildren for me?'

Gina was horrified and her father couldn't help but notice it. 'Papa, I don't want to have another child. I know you expect Bruno and me -'

He cut her off by raising his hand. 'Then don't.'

She tried to calm herself. 'You're not mad?'

'No, my sweet, not at all.' He smiled at her. 'Come and walk with me. It's going to rain soon, let's make the most of the dry weather.'

The garden was nearly an acre. In summer the orchard was lush with apples, cherries and pears, but now the dark leafless trees looked as sad and sombre as Fredo's daughter. 'I know things are not good between you and Bruno, haven't been good since he came out of prison.' He stopped and turned to face her. 'But tell me honestly, Gina, just how bad are they?'

She felt ashamed. Personal failure was something she hated. 'He doesn't love me, Papa.'

'You're sure?'

'I'm sure. He's told me as much.'

Don Fredo flinched at his daughter's pain.

'He says I am fat and ugly and he will take his pleasures elsewhere. The marriage is a sham, Papa.'

Finelli pulled her close to him. 'Oh, baby. My poor baby.' He held her and felt anger boiling inside him. 'This man is not good enough for you. We have our customs, but this cannot be tolerated. You and Enzo must come and live here with me, while we sort this out.'

Gina felt tears welling in her eyes. Tears of relief. Tears of shame. 'The other day, in the house, he beat me. And then – then, he raped me.'

Fredo Finelli clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. He spoke softly but there was a hardness in his words. 'I will kill him, Gina. For this alone, I will kill him.'

Gina was silent for a second. She hung on to her father, just as she'd done as a child when she was hurt and worried. 'I hope so, Papa. I really hope so.'

And then she shut her eyes and prayed to God that she'd done the right thing.

68

Parco Nazionale del Vesuvio Jack felt he was getting to know the park's 130 square kilometres better than most locals. As well as his visits, he'd studied maps and websites in every spare moment he'd had. He'd memorized its nine main footpaths and how they lifted people to more than 1,200 metres above sea level. He'd studied its flora, fauna and geology. Soon – very soon – he hoped he'd know the area as well as the man he was hunting.

'Buon giorno! ' shouted Sylvia, as he completed the last bit of the climb after the carabinieri car had dropped him. 'Sorrentino, the big guy over there, was called by his team. They've found more fragments of bone. As I said on the phone, they're sure it's another body.'

Jack looked across the site as they walked together. The unearthed graves of Francesca Di Lauro, the still unidentified second victim and now the third and newest victim were all so close together that there was a danger of the scenes being cross-contaminated. Access planks and grid lines only went so far in protecting multiple-victim scenes, and Jack could see workers struggling not to step into each other's territory. Sorrentino was now on his knees in the third site, sifting soil, shouting and pointing at people.

'Let me introduce you to him.' Sylvia wiped strands of wind-blown hair from off her face. 'His English is good and lately he's been behaving himself.'

'No leaks to the press?'

'None. Maybe the Great Lion is tamed.'

'Good.' Jack noticed she was missing her trusted sidekick. 'Where's Pietro?'

'He's still interviewing Antonio Castellani. He might join us out here if he finishes in time.'

'Any news on the grandson – Franco?'

'No. We've still got cars out searching. He has no wheels, so he can't be far.'

'And his cousin?'

'Paolo. There's news on him. Forensics don't put him at the pit. Or near the car in which Rosa and Filippo were killed, or in contact with the underwear or trophies we found. We'll take DNA for further comparison tests, hold him until nightfall, then have someone re-interview him before we let him go.'

They gingerly made their way along the last narrow plank to the newest site.

'Bernardo, this is Jack King, an American psychological profiler who is helping us with our case.'

Jack held out his hand but Sorrentino didn't take it immediately. His brain had to absorb the fact that there was someone around who might, just might, be more interesting than himself. 'Bernardo Sorrentino, Professore Sorrentino.' He stressed his title as he finally took the profiler's hand.

Jack nodded at the hunched figures toiling in the dirt. 'Looks like a major job. You got any pattern yet?'

Sorrentino unveiled his most patronizing of looks. 'Aah, I wish it was that easy. This is not a structural burial. There are no rooms, no underground chambers, and no buildings of any kind that can provide us with the type of design that would make discovery easy.'

'Rough time frame?'

'Francesca we dated around five years. The second is more like six. And I'd say the third is the same – maybe even a little older.'

Jack's mind wandered to the killer. How had he carried the victims' remains here? Sacks, bags, buckets? What had he used to get his bearings? A compass or just strong memories? Why had he buried them apart – was it by accident, or out of respect? Did he have some twisted, fractured but still prevailing sense of decency deep inside him? Or did he want them to have separate graves for other reasons?

Sylvia and Sorrentino were talking Italian now. She was asking whether the new bones would yield DNA and Sorrentino was hopeful. She was pushing him for dates on when it would be done – when she could expect results. As he wandered away, Jack smiled at the hard time she was giving Sorrentino. He liked women with ambition, dedication and determination. Liked them professionally, liked them personally.

The profiler stopped and banged a heel into the ground. The earth was as stony as hell. The killer wouldn't have been able to dig exactly where he liked, so he would have had to have chosen softer ground. He eyed the bushes, the brambles, the patches of overgrown grass and the trees, the circle of pines and cypresses that stretched out their roots like tentacles. Jack had soon walked a full twenty metres away from the others and was now entering a copse of trees south of where Sylvia and Sorrentino stood. From here he looked back on the steel poles that had been driven into the ground. They were labelled UNO, DUO and TRE – like the numbers of a clock.

Like a clock face.

Of course. It all seemed so obvious now.

So simple.

Jack hurried back and interrupted Sylvia and Sorrentino. 'I think our killer's been burying the bodies in a circle. Look back at the poles on the graves of what you've called Victims One, Two and Three. You can see the start of an arc, like the circumference of a clock.'

Soft rain fell as their gaze moved over the site. The curve soon became apparent. Sylvia was the first to grasp the full significance. 'If you're right – if he has buried them following the numbers on a clock face – then it would be logical that his first victim was buried as due north as he could guess at.'

Jack looked again at the steel poles jutting out of the ground. 'Which is nowhere near where you found Francesca, the area you've marked as Victim One.'

'That fits with our science,' added Sorrentino. 'Timewise she looks like at least the third victim in the sequence that we've already identified. If we discover more bodies – earlier victims – then chronologically she moves further down.'

Jack nodded. He could already tell that Francesca's burial site wasn't due north, nor was Victim Three.