killer.
“I didn’t see a way out. Once, a long time ago, I had told a cop I was certain Haydon had had something to do with a death. The cop all but laughed at me and implied I was jealous because he was seeing another girl. That didn’t go over so well with Haydon.” A shiver went through her. “I had to have proof and I never got it. He never once admitted to doing anything wrong.”
She looked Art straight in the eyes. “I thought killers liked to brag. That’s the way they’re portrayed in the movies. He never did. He would throw out scary lines, like it would be terrible if anything happened to you, or to them or to that dog, but he never said anything that I could record or admit anything that would help me convince the police he was guilty. I wouldn’t have even been able to tell them where to find him.”
Vittorio could see she was just about done. The pain meds were wearing off and she was struggling a little with breathing, although he thought that was more emotional than because she’d been exposed to too much gas. They’d gotten there quickly. Phillips had started the gas and then when the alarms went off, he must have taken off and left the hospital. Vinci had twice given Vittorio the signal to stop Grace from saying anything more. His cousin wanted time to talk to her first and go through everything that she could say and caution her how to say it.
“Grace needs to rest now.” He turned on the oxygen machine and fit the mask over her mouth and nose. “She’s going home today.”
Art’s eyebrow shot up. “To her apartment?”
“Of course not. She’s coming home with me,” Vittorio said. “All along we were planning to move in together eventually. This just sped up the process. We knew we couldn’t keep our relationship out of the tabloids forever, but we liked having privacy.” Again, he curled his fingers around her wrist and brought her knuckles to his mouth, distracting the two detectives. “Dr. Arnold is adamant that she not move around too much, although later she’ll need aggressive physical therapy. He wants another week before she gets active, which means it will be difficult for her to answer more questions at the police station, but you’re welcome to come to my home.”
“That’s a good thing, Vittorio, because the killer left behind a photograph of you. He dropped it right in the middle of what was left of Ale Sarto’s chest.”
Grace gasped, a sound much like a hurt animal might make escaping. Vittorio stood up and when he did, Ricco did as well. Every bodyguard was already on their feet.
“That was unnecessary,” Vittorio said, “and just lost you all cooperation. You can talk through Vinci. We’d like you to leave now. This conversation is over.”
Art hesitated, but Vittorio refused to look away. It was a bullshit move and the detective knew it. Jason went through the door first and Art followed him, leaving him with a very distraught Grace.
CHAPTER FIVE
This conversation is over.”
Vittorio had said it decisively, in that same low tone, but it carried command, so much so that the detectives had left, and Grace didn’t dare bring the subject up. His lawyer had followed the police detectives out and the next thing she knew, the surgeon, Dr. Arnold, signed her release papers and talked with Vittorio about her care. Then she was wheeled out, surrounded by the Ferraro family and bodyguards. She heard cameras flashing and people calling out as they made their way to the waiting car, but in the middle of the moving group, protected from everything, she didn’t see much.
Grace looked over at Vittorio. She sat right where he’d put her, on the cool leather seat of a very expensive car and somehow, she’d just let him take her over. She knew exactly what that photograph pinned to a dead man’s chest meant—it was a warning to her.
“Mr. Ferraro.” She started with his name. She had to take charge of her life. Her mind still felt a little woozy, and her shoulder hurt beyond anything she’d ever felt before. The way they had immobilized her shoulder and arm made her feel awkward and clunky, almost frozen and unable to move, making it difficult to think properly. “We have to discuss what I’m going to do.” She poured firmness into her tone, even though it was an effort and she would