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“The volcano is Mt. Vesuvius. Pompeii was the city it destroyed. It’s only a twenty-minute cab ride from here. I thought we could go and do some sightseeing. What do you say?”
“I’m game,” she said.
Two hours later, she and I walked through the ruins of the city, the cobblestone streets beneath our feet, her hand in mine as we strolled past the Temple of Venus. While she took a few photos, I double checked my phone, ensuring the person I was looking for had indeed redeemed their ticket for today. Sure enough, he had checked through the gates twenty minutes earlier.
“I have a little game I want to play, my dear.”
Dahlia glanced back and raised an eyebrow, looking at me skeptically. “What kind of game would that be?”
Gesturing toward the ruins, I said, “As much as I love history, my true purpose for coming here was not to relive the tragedy of this city.” I slipped my backpack off and took out a folder and handed it to her. “In that packet, you will find some basic info on a man named Marco. He is what we’d call a not nice man.”
She took the folder, and the two of us walked over to the shadows beneath a column. She flipped through the pages I’d printed. No picture. Simply the listing of his crimes and a short synopsis of my profile I’d made of him. Dahlia read for several minutes flipping through the few pages quickly, then rereading them again. I’d spent years creating a database of hundreds and hundreds of names. Molesters, Rapists, drunk and high drivers who’d killed innocents, murderers, abusers, and child pornographers. It was both a hobby and a calling. My system had never let me down, and now, I would teach Dahlia how to hunt. She would learn how I began. With bare information and then scouting it. At this point in my life, I could spot a target in a few minutes. There was a darkness in the eyes of people who did the things we punished for. The average person couldn’t see it. People like John Wayne Gacey and Ted Bundy cruised through life because no one saw the monsters lurking beneath. I did. Maybe because deep down I was a monster too. Like recognizes like.
“Marco Laurent,” Dahlia muttered as she read the pages again. “French national. Accused of spousal abuse seven years ago. Number one suspect in wife’s murder four years ago.”
“He got off on a technicality,” I offered. “He moved to Morocco and changed his name to Marco Sevantes. His current wife is a nineteen-year-old Moroccan resident. From what I’ve discovered, he may have begun his relationship with her online prior to his wife’s death.”
Dahlia’s jaw fell open in disgust. “So she was what? Fifteen when he started grooming her?”
I nodded and pointed to the files. “Actually, from the math I did, she would have been fourteen. The parents approved of the marriage as soon as he moved here. Though, some digging did find a hefty deposit of fifty thousand Moroccan Dirhams into the family’s bank account a week before the wedding. Marco came from money, you see.”
“The rich fuck bought a goddamned child bride?” The virtual anger in Dahlia’s voice caused my cock to stir. Her passion was almost too much for me to take at times.
“Technically, she was an adult when they married, but we’re talking semantics now. Your job is simple. I found him with a very interesting tracking software I had developed. He purchased tickets to Pompeii two days ago. For today’s date.”
“He’s here?” Dahlia gasped. “Now?”
The grin on my face told the truth before I could speak. “He is, indeed. Your job is to see if you can spot him.”
“But there’s no physical description here,” Dahlia said, shaking the now closed folder at me. “Not even an age or race. It says he has a dragon tattoo on his forearm. That’s it.”
I took the folder and tucked it back in my bag. “That, my dear, is the game.” I pulled her close, lowered my head to her neck, and gently kissed the soft skin there. “You don’t like things that are too easy, do you? From what I recall,” I whispered. “You like them hard.”
Dahlia sighed against the side of my face. “Let’s get this fuck. Are we gonna make him pay?”
“There may have been some plans made in that vein.” I held up a finger. “Before that, we must find him.”
Dahlia took my hand and led me back to the major tourist areas of the Pompeii village. We weaved our way through the dozens of stalls. Villagers all trying to tempt us into buying their wares. Gelato, jewelry, small shops selling every imaginable bit of souvenir one could imagine. She’d learned a lot in her time with me. She was able to hunt and search without making people too uncomfortable. Could follow others without them knowing it. We weaved our way through the different displays and locations using the small map we’d received when entering the site. The way she hunted through the crowds reminded me of the evening all those months ago as I stalked her through the streets of Savannah. Even then, I could see she was special. A powerful and dangerous flower, wilted by circumstance and history. All she needed was someone to tend to her needs and show her what she needed.
“What about them?” Dahlia said after an hour. I gazed out toward the area she was pointing at.
Beyond a plexiglass display of human forms forever encased in calcified ash, a small group of people stood listening to a tour guide. The man, roughly my own age, stood with a protective arm around a younger woman. She appeared cowed and even from this vantage her face showed the unhappiness she felt with her life. Along with the man and woman, two other gentlemen lurked nearby. One wore an obnoxious short sleeve floral button up. The other had a tee shirt that read: Pompeii. Below the words a red cartoon volcano was erupting, spitting green, yellow, and purple lava into the sky.
“Who do you think those two are?” I asked, nodding toward the two random men standing nearby.
“Bodyguards?” Dahlia offered. “You said this Marco guy had money, right?”
Despite my best wishes, I couldn’t keep the smile off my lips. “You, Dahlia, are one hell of a detective. I thought it would take you at least the rest of the day to find them.”
Her cheeks flushed as she shrugged absently. “He sort of looks the type. The cocky way he carries himself, as though nothing can happen to him. Plus, the girl with him doesn’t look happy to be there. There’s tension between them. She’s cowed and scared, but in a sort of hidden way. Anyone unaware or not paying attention would think she was just irritated or depressed, but I’ve been that girl. I can see what’s hidden behind her eyes. As soon as I saw her it was like a flashing light started strobing above her head. I just knew. The last nail in the coffin was the security detail.”
A warm and tingly sensation drifted up through my chest as Dahlia spoke. A pride and excitement that knew no bounds. She was evolving and growing at an exponential rate. In a few months she might even be better than me. She was a natural.
Across the square, the man in question said something to his woman. She answered, but whatever she said must have pissed him off. He grabbed the back of her neck and leaned in close, hissing angry and quiet words into her ear. As he grabbed her, his sleeve slid back, revealing the tattoo that was in the dossier. A bright red and black dragon circling his forearm and wrist.
“Bingo, you fucking prick,” Dahlia said, gazing at them.
“We need to move,” I murmured. One of the bodyguards was giving us a quizzical look. Not worried yet but wondering. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”
