She exhaled as quietly as she could. Get a freakin’ grip, Sophie. She was seeing threats that didn’t exist. “Over here. I think these are from Ted the First’s travels to southeast Asia. I’m thinking about an exhibit about the Cold War and communism and wanted to include his artifacts from the Korean peninsula and Vietnam.”
Theo Four came into the light, his dark eyes oddly amused. “Ted the First?”
Sophie’s cheeks heated. “I’m sorry. That’s how I think about all you Theodores.”
“I thought you were going to do an interactive exhibit. A dig.”
“I am, but this warehouse is big enough for three or four exhibits. I think this Cold War exhibit will touch people deeper. You know. Freedom isn’t free.”
He said nothing more, but stripped the tops off the crates as if they were crepe paper instead of heavy wood. “There. It’s done.” He then left as silently as he’d come.
Sophie shivered. That boy was either deep or just plain off. How “off” could he be? How much did she know about Theo or Ted, for that matter?
She laughed at herself. “Get a grip, Sophie,” she said out loud. It was time to go anyway. Liz had said her ride would be at the museum at six. It was almost that now. She locked the warehouse door and stood inside the front door waiting, then laughed again when Jen McFain approached with a grin.
“Good night, Darla!” Sophie called, then pushed the door open. “So you’re my bodyguard?” she asked, looking way down at Jen.
Jen looked way up. “That’s right, Xena. You got something to say about it?”
Sophie zipped up her coat, chuckling. “It seems silly. I should be protecting you.”
Jen pulled back the lapel of her jacket. “A nine-mil adds a lot of inches, Xena.”
“Stop calling me that,” Sophie said as she got into Jen’s car. She waited until Jen was in and buckled up. “‘Your majesty’ will suffice.”
Jen laughed. “Then let’s go, Your Majesty. Your prince awaits.”
Sophie couldn’t stop the smile that warmed her whole face. “Vito’s back?”
Jen’s smile went grim. “Yeah, they’re back.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The two guys they went looking for are missing, but they ID’d another one of the bodies from the graveyard. And…” Jen blew out a breath. “They found someone who can ID the motherfucker who started all this.”
Thursday, January 18, 6:25
P.M.
“Tino.” Vito gripped his brother’s arm in an abbreviated hug. “Thanks again.”
“No problem. You get anywhere with the picture of the old man from the bar?”
Vito shook his head. “I haven’t even seen a picture of the old man yet. Nick and I just got back from New York fifteen minutes ago.”
“Here’s another copy. I went home and did some more work, shadowing, hatching. It’s a better representation than the quick sketch I did for your lieutenant this morning.”
Vito stared down at the man who’d met Greg Sanders on Tuesday afternoon. “Man, he really is old. Hunched. It’s hard to believe.”
“That’s how the waitress saw him, but you know how accurate eyewitnesses aren’t.”
“Yeah, but I really want her to be right. But I may have something better-I brought back a guy from New York who knew the artist that made the cut scenes in Behind Enemy Lines. He’s waiting in the conference room. I was hoping you could…”
Tino grinned. “Lead the way.”
Vito took him to the conference room where Nick waited with Tony England. “Tony, this is my brother Tino. He’s a sketch artist.”
“I’m a sketch artist,” Tony said with frustration, “but I can’t get any more from my mind than that.” He pointed to a paper on the table. “My mind is frozen or something.”
It was a bare-bones sketch that could be almost anyone. Additionally, it had a cartoon quality that made Vito remember what Brent had said about Harrington’s expertise-cartoons and dragons. Van Zandt had brought in someone more skilled than he at the game physics. Perhaps he’d chosen this Frasier Lewis because he was more skilled at faces than Harrington and England.
Tino opened his sketchpad. “Sometimes it takes telling it to somebody else.”
Vito left them with Nick and went back to his desk. Jen and Sophie were back, he saw as he entered the bullpen. Jen had gone into Liz’s office and Sophie stood at his desk, her back to him. His heart thumping like a teenager’s, he quickened his pace, intending to surprise her with a kiss to the side of that long neck of hers. She liked that, he’d found. In two nights he’d found a lot of places she liked to be kissed. She jumped when he touched his lips to her skin, then settled back against him, like warm honey.
“You okay?” he murmured.
“Yeah. I’ve been good, stayed with my bodyguards. Even Thumbelina over there.”
Vito chuckled. “Jen’s little, but she’s feisty.” He drew back reluctantly. “Wait here. I need to go talk to Liz for a minute, but I’ll be right back.” He’d gotten a few steps away when she called his name, her voice suddenly strange.
“Vito, who is this?” She was holding the sketch Tino had made of the old man.
Dread gripped his gut. “Why?”
His dread became her fear. “Because I’ve seen him. Who is this?”
Jen had been standing in Liz’s doorway and turned at the panic that had crept into Sophie’s voice. A moment later Liz was at Jen’s side, watching with concern.
“We think that’s the man who met Greg Sanders on Tuesday,” Liz said slowly.
Sophie sank into the chair at his desk. “Oh, God,” she whispered.
Vito crouched down in front of her. “Where did you see this man, Sophie?”
She raised her eyes to his, green and horrified and his blood ran cold. “At my museum. He was at the Albright. He stopped me and asked for a private tour.” She pressed her lips together hard. “Vito, he was as close to me as you are now.”
Breathe. Think. He took her hands in his. They were ice cold. “When, Sophie?”
“Yesterday, after I’d finished the Viking tour.” She closed her eyes. “I had a feeling, a creepy feeling about him. But I laughed it off. He was just an old man.” She opened her eyes. “Vito, I’m scared. I was nervous before. Now I’m terrified.”
So was he. “You don’t leave my sight,” he said harshly. “Not for a second.”
She nodded unsteadily. “Okay.”
“Vito.”
Vito twisted to see Tino rushing into the bullpen. He was holding his sketchpad out so that Vito could see the picture he’d drawn. “Vito, Frasier Lewis is the old man. The eyes are the same as the old man the waitress saw with Greg Sanders.”
Vito nodded. It felt like every breath had been sucked from his lungs. “I know.” He stepped aside, revealing Sophie who still sat behind him. “This is Sophie. The old man visited her at her museum yesterday.”
Tino let out a breath. “Shit, Vito.”
“Yeah,” Vito muttered. He looked over at Liz. “Encore?”
Liz shook her head, grim. “I don’t think my heart could take another curtain call.”
“Where’s Tony England?” Vito asked his brother.
“On his way downstairs with Nick. Nick’s gonna get him a cab to the train station.”
Liz perched on the side of Nick’s desk. “Let’s call the troops together, Vito. We have some debriefing to do. But first, everybody take a deep breath. Sophie’s safe and we now know the face of our killer. That’s a hell of a lot more than we had this morning.”
For a full minute everyone did as she asked, breathing and focusing. Then once again the peace was shattered. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Lieutenant Liz Sawyer.”
A couple stood in the doorway. She was five-three and dark. He was six-four and blond. The man had spoken.
Liz lifted her hand. “I’m Sawyer.”