Viper - Michael Morley [56]
It was raining again by the time she walked the last half-mile back to the barracks, but she was so focused she didn’t even notice. By early afternoon she had the inquiry team fired up again and locked into the drudgery of sifting statements and checking information. Patience and precision were Sylvia’s key tools. Never rush. Never miss anything.
Jack arrived for the three p.m. briefing and afterwards retreated to a spare office to make his daily call home. No matter where he was, or what he was doing, Jack always broke from events to phone home and speak to his wife and son. Last year’s ordeal with the Black River Killer had been a stark personal reminder of how precious his family was, and how much the young boy needed regular contact with his father.
‘How you doing, big guy? You been having fun with Gramps and Grandma?’
Zack’s voice was full of excitement. ‘Guess what? Gramps took me to play baseball. He says Santa might bring me a real pitcher’s glove and real bat for Christmas. D’you think he will, Daddy? Do you?’
Jack told him there was a real good chance that Santa would do that. He flexed his left hand as they talked and felt an ache run from the palm to the elbow. Nerve damage that still hadn’t healed properly. Another souvenir from his hunt for the Black River Killer. A twinge that always returned whenever he was tired and stretched. ‘Has Mommy been good, or has she been spending money again?’
‘She’s been spending. And she and Grandma have been drinking wine too.’
Jack laughed and thanked his small snitch for the inside info before asking for the phone to be given back to his mom.
‘So, how are you holding up?’ asked Nancy. ‘You sound tired.’
You sound tired. His wife’s diplomatic way of delicately reminding him of the burn-out that had once almost killed him.
‘I’m okay, honey; just things are a bit more complicated than I thought.’
‘They always are, Jack,’ she replied tersely. ‘You going to make it back sometime soon?’
He flinched. ‘Not so soon. I’m sorry. I think I’m going to have to be here a few more days yet.’
Silence fell. Then she drew a deep breath and let fly. ‘Jack, you said four days tops. Please don’t mess us all around on this. I’ve got Christmas coming up, your son is bursting to see you, and my mom and dad were expecting to share a little time with you as well.’
The telling-off lasted several more minutes before he invented a white lie that there was a car downstairs waiting for him and he had to go. ‘Love you, sweetheart. Kiss Zack for me.’
‘I will. We love you too.’ She meant it, but her voice was strained, not only with annoyance and disapproval but also with worry.
Jack tried to banish the loneliness creeping up on him. Zack had sounded so beautiful. So young. So pure. Pure.
The word cannoned around inside him. He’d become so obsessed with Vesuvius and Hercules and the geography of the place, he’d forgotten the deep importance of fire. It made things pure. In religious rites, pagan rites and all magical rites since time began, fire was always a way of cleansing impurity.
But what impurity?
What had the women done?
What was their crime against the killer?
45
Bar Luca, Napoli
They ate steaks and salads for Sal’s birthday lunch. From a distance it looked like they were all having a ball. But everyone around the table knew that soon – maybe sooner than even they thought – either Salvatore Giacomo would kill Bruno Valsi, or vice versa.
As far as Pennestri and Farina were concerned, they would try to avoid picking sides right up until