I glanced in the side mirror at the car a short distance behind that had mimicked Giovanni’s every move. It had been that way for the past two miles or so.
Giovanni looked over at me and then in his rear view mirror.
“Don’t worry about them,” he said. “They’re with me.”
“They were around the last time we spoke as well. What are they, some sort of protection?”
“You could say that,” he said.
“Are you always this elusive?”
He laughed.
“Do you always ask so many questions?” he said.
“Yes.”
“I have eyes and ears everywhere. I make it a point to know what I need to know when I need to know it.”
In a way, he’d answered my question, but in another way, he hadn’t answered it at all.
“Talk to me about this case,” he said, “about Sinnerman. I want to know all about him.”
“I’m not sure why you’re interested,” I said.
His face looked stern, but he didn’t seem dismayed by my comment.
“Let me ask you something—do you believe I can help you?” he said. “Is that why you called me?”
I thought about it for a moment, but it wasn’t necessary for me to answer. From the first moment I’d laid eyes on him when we met, I knew he was a force to be reckoned with, a man in some kind of powerful position. My gut instinct gave me a good idea of what that was, but I didn’t want to believe it. I took a deep breath in and when I exhaled, out came the entire backstory of my sister, Sinnerman, the latest slayings of more innocent women—all of it.
When I finished he said, “What is it you would like me to do?”
It was the moment of truth.
“I hoped you could help me nail the son of a bitch.”
“And when I do—what then?”
“You’re very sure of yourself,” I said. “No one got anywhere close to figuring out who this guy was last time. He knows what he’s doing.” “So do I, and you didn’t answer my question.”
Inside my head the question had already been answered, a hundred times over—maybe more. But to say it out loud? I wasn’t sure I could do it. My job had always been to bring people to justice, find the bad guy and let the cops do the rest. But this was different—it was personal, and now I didn’t just have sympathy for all the families of victims whose lives had been lost for no reason, I had empathy. And empathy wanted a lot more than a lifetime in prison. Empathy wanted revenge.
I’d been so caught up inside myself I hadn’t noticed my finger and the incessant tap dance it was doing on the armrest of the car door. Giovanni took notice and placed his hand on my shoulder. It stopped me right in my tracks.
“Leave everything to me,” he said.
“But you don’t even know me. Why would you—”
“I learned all I needed to the first time we met. There’s something different about you, Sloane Monroe. You have a drive that most people never possess, and you’re selfless. What you did for my sister proved that, and I am in your debt.”
“Honestly, you don’t owe me anything. I don’t view it like that, I never have.”
“Then try to see it from a different perspective,” he said. “I’m doing this because I want to.”
Giovanni turned and parked in front of the police station.
“Why are we—”
He didn’t respond. He exited the car and came around to my side and opened the door for me. It felt weird. The last time anyone had grabbed the door for me was on the night of my senior prom, and he only did it because he had one thing in mind at the time, and it wasn’t dancing.
Giovanni stretched out his hand to me.
“Come with me,” he said. “It’s about to get interesting.”
CHAPTER 19
All eyes were on the two of us when we walked through the station doors. Nick’s in particular. I felt like the main event at the Circus, the one the audience waited all night to see. Nick leaned over the side of his cubicle and stared Giovanni down like a lion sizing up his opponent before they battled to determine who would be the one true king. Giovanni didn’t seem to notice. Either that or he didn’t really care.
The chief was in a glass-enclosed room off to the side with a few other people. He stood when he saw me and opened the door.
“Sloane, in here,” he said.
I walked past Nick’s desk and couldn’t hide the smirk I was sure I had on my face. It felt good to be a part of the “in crowd.” I entered the room with Giovanni, and we took a seat. The chief looked at both of us and didn’t seem the least bit concerned about who Giovanni was or why he was there.
“Sloane, this is Special Agent Luciana,” the chief said with his thumb bent toward a man in a navy suit that I’d never seen before in my life.
If I had a drink I was sure I would have choked on it.
“Did you say Luciana?” I said.
The man stood and exchanged glances with Giovanni. They smiled at one another like they were part of a covert society, and I waited for a secret handshake to take place. When it didn’t, he turned his attention to me.
“Special Agent Carlo Luciana. And you must be Miss Monroe.”
I took his hand and shook it. It was cold, but firm.
“It’s Sloane,” I said.
“I hear your grandfather used to be in the FBI.”
“He did,” I said. “He was a good man.”
“You look confused,” Agent Luciana said. “Let me explain.”
I was, but not just about why he was there.
“Effective immediately, my team is taking over this case,” he said. “I have a group of other agents I’ve brought along to assist me, and we will work together with everyone here until Sinnerman is caught and put away for the rest of his life. I want this to be a team effort with your chief and myself exchanging information. My hope is that the process will run in a cohesive manner.”
“I’m a PI,” I said. “I don’t work for the department so I’m not sure why you’re telling me all this.”
“I understand our serial has been in contact with you—left notes, and that sort of thing.”
I nodded.
“Have you heard from him since your birthday party?” he said.
I shook my head. Giovanni slanted his eyes at me but didn’t utter a word or change the relaxed expression on his face. Was it possible he knew about the note I’d found earlier that day?
Agent Luciana continued.
“I understand your sister was the last of his first series of victims a few years ago,” he said.
“That’s right.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard on you,” he said.
“It won’t be once he’s stopped.”
“Trust me when I say that we will do everything we can to do just that.”
Agent Luciana looked at the chief.
“I’d like to have a few minutes with Sloane alone,” he said.
The chief nodded and he and Giovanni exited the room.
Once the door closed, I turned toward him.
“You said your last name was Luciana,” I said.
“That’s right.”
“I assume when Giovanni picked me up, that was your doing?” I said.
“I needed to speak with you, yes.”
“And the two of you are somehow related?” I said.
“I’m supposed to be the one asking the questions, Miss Monroe.”
He sounded just like Giovanni, the way he spoke to me in his calm, collected tone of voice, and in the manner that he constructed his comments. And his eyes, while softer than Giovanni’s, had the same dark sheen to them. I was convinced they were connected somehow.
“I have a right to know what’s going on here,” I said, “and if you want me to answer your—”
“Fair enough,” he said. “No need for you to get all worked up. Giovanni is my brother.”