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“He took two bullets to the chest,” Domic explains.
“What’s your theory?” Matteo asks him.
“Too early to tell exactly, but it’s not a professional hit.”
“It’s too sloppy for a professional hit,” I say, looking at the two bullet holes splintered into the doorjamb and another stuck in the bulkhead above the door. “They were startled by Tony.”
Domic nods. “I think the suspect walked up the stairs, and encountered Tony in the doorway, and just started firing.”
“Tony was coming out of his room when he was shot,” I say.
“Yes, but I don’t think this started downstairs. I think it started in the pool house.”
“Then let’s see the pool house,” I say, turning around to walk down the stairs.
We have to pass through the dining room again to access the door leading outside.
We take the pathway leading from the main house to the pool area, lit by a row of solar lights. Halfway along, Giulio Vinocelli, Tony’s oldest son, lies dead on the ground.
He’s on his back, arms at his side, two bright red stains spread across his shirt. Inches from his right hand is a gun.
“He had his gun in his hand,” I note.
“I think he heard what was happening in the pool house and went to inspect it when the suspect ambushed him here.” Domic points to a shattered tree branch in the magnolia tree along the path. “Again, the suspect fired off a couple of shots before hitting Giulio. Whoever they are, they have experience with guns but not enough to be a hired gun.”
“This is personal,” I say, standing over Giulio’s lifeless body. His eyes are half open and staring up into a new dawn, early morning light slanting across his face.
“You want to see personal? Follow me.”
We leave Giulio and follow Domic as he leads us into the pool house where Fausto Vinocelli lies dead amongst a sea of broken glass. He has three bullet wounds to the chest and one to the face. When he fell, he crashed through the glass coffee table.
“He’s been shot more times than the others,” I say.
“Looks like overkill. Makes me think he was the target.”
But I disagree. I think they were all the target, and as Matteo and I leave the crime scene and head back into the city, an unease tightens in my gut.
“What’s the theory?” Matteo asks.
“Someone is cleaning house. I think they killed Harrison to keep him quiet because he knew their identity. They killed him in a way that would throw suspicion on the Vinocelli by using Fausto’s signature shot. It was a good plan. Throw heat onto gangsters well-known to law enforcement, while they disappeared with all the money. But then Bianca asked me for help, and when they found out about it, they panicked and killed the Vinocelli—who didn’t even realize they were caught up in this scenario.”
I don’t know any of this for certain. But I’m rarely wrong.
And my gut tells me Bianca is next on their list.
“Dead?”
I see the color drain from Bianca’s face as the news of the Vinocelli massacre sinks in.
“Yes. Someone shot them.”
We’re standing in the kitchen, and she eases down on the stool by the counter. She looks dazed and scared, and when she lifts her watery gaze to me, I see the terror in her eyes.
And damn if I don’t want to fix that.
“Who did this?” she whispers.
“You don’t need to worry.”
“Don’t do that,” she snaps. “Don’t start lying to me. You think whoever killed Harrison and the Vinocelli is after me, don’t you? I can see it on your face, Massimo.”
I want to lie to her because I don’t want to frighten her. But she deserves the truth. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re looking for your money and they don’t want you to.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because they killed Harrison when you came to me for help. Now they’ve killed the Vinocelli. It’s a message. Stop looking.”
I walk around the counter and pull her into my arms. I hold her against my chest, and I can feel the rapid beat of her heart, and I know I will stop at nothing to make this right.
I lean back and take her face in my hands. “I’m going to keep you safe. Do you trust me?”
She nods. “Yes.”
“Good. Now I need you to pack a bag.”
“Where are we going?”
“Misty Lake Mountain. I have a cabin there, and you’ll be safe.”
39
BIANCA
Misty Lake Mountain is as picturesque as it sounds. Miles and miles of alpine forests. Low cloud cover. A stunning lake that’s so still it looks like glass. For the most part, we’re on even road, but when we turn off onto rockier terrain, Massimo navigates it with ease.
As I take in the sweeping views and foggy mountain beauty, I try not to let my fear get the better of me. But it’s hard not to, considering the way Massimo hustled me out of the city. He thinks someone is going to kill me, and damn if that doesn’t frighten a girl.
