Dead Ringer Read online

  Thomas grabbed his umbrella and charged into the police station, Fergus right behind him. “I’m Thomas Wallace. Captain Galluzzo is expecting me.”

  The man behind the desk nodded. “Si, he is waiting in his office.” He picked up the phone and within minutes, the captain entered the reception area through security doors to the left.

  Thomas met him halfway. “I want to see my son.”

  The captain offered his hand. “Perhaps we should talk about your wife first, before you see the boy.”

  He gave the man’s hand an absentminded shake and then waved at Fergus. “This is my security chief, Fergus McFadden. What about my wife?”

  “Come back to my office. I’ll fill you in on everything we know. You can read the note.”

  The office was small, with well-used wooden furniture. A desk, two chairs, and a file cabinet. A single window provided a view of the bay, the scene gray and hazy through the fogging casement.

  “How did my son escape?”

  “From what he told us, your wife let him out a porthole, and he swam to the nearest boat. He’s a very brave boy. The note was tucked into his life vest. He gave it to the people who rescued him. They contacted us immediately. We had copies of the abduction notice, and we brought him here.”

  He pushed his glasses up on his prominent Roman nose. “Doctors have examined him. He seems to have suffered no physical damage from his experience.”

  One sheet of paper lay in the center of the desk.

  The captain’s hand shook slightly as he handed Thomas the note.

  Thomas scanned the paper. He didn’t move except for the rise and fall of his chest.

  Mercy had put Daniel’s life before her own safety.

  His actions since he’d taken her from Bermuda had been less than gallant. Now, he prayed he’d get the opportunity to say he was sorry.

  “Why didn’t you rescue my wife?”

  “It was a hostage situation, Mr. Wallace, or so we thought. We couldn’t charge in and put her life at risk.”

  “What do you mean, you thought?”

  A shadow passed over Captain Galluzzo face. “We were watching the boat when we received this.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a fax sheet. “Is this your wife?”

  Thomas took the sheet. It was a morgue photo of a dead woman. Lead settled in his chest and choked off his breath. Skin ashen, hair tangled, it was Mercy. Still lovely, even in death.

  A chill spread through his gut. When he could finally speak, he laid the picture back on the desk. “How is that possible? She wrote the note...?”

  “We haven’t received the coroner’s report. They’re faxing the autopsy results here.” The captain hesitated for what seemed an eternity, and then said, “I assume that after the boy escaped they decided to kill her.”

  The Italian shifted, making the chair springs squeak. “After we found your son, we sent out pictures of your wife. The police in Capri found this.” He tapped the morgue shot. “The body was unidentified until they received our inquiry.”

  Beside him, Fergus clasped his shoulder, his brown eyes suddenly pooled.

  Thomas stared at the picture. It was easy to recall her face in life. Soft, warm, and beautiful. He stood and gave the chair a violent shove. Had she suffered? She’d needed him and he wasn’t there. How could he ever tell Daniel? The boy had just found the woman he thought was his mother only to lose her again.

  He’d been married to the wrong woman seven years and had only begun to realize the happiness possible with Mercy. Now it was too late. If he’d left her in Bermuda, she’d be alive.

  She had died because of the pictures Traci had taken. And where was Traci? Obviously, in hiding somewhere. But where?

  Thomas gazed across the desk at the captain. “What will you do about Rossellini?”

  The captain held up his hand. “Don’t do anything hasty, Mr. Wallace. Rossellini’s yacht left port around eight o’clock tonight. Our navy is watching the yacht’s movements. We lost visual sight in the storm, but they’ve tracked the boat on radar. It seems headed for Capri. Now that we know your wife isn’t aboard, we can send a tactical force in and arrest him for murder and kidnapping.”

  Ricco Rossellini killed Mercy and kidnapped Daniel. He wouldn’t escape judgment in a justice system gone mad.

  Thomas would see to that. He took another long look at the morgue picture, etching it in his memory. He wanted it there when he came face to face with her killer. He rose and turned to the door. “I’d like to see my son now. I’m going to send him home.”

  The captain walked Thomas to the door. As they stepped into the hallway, a clerk handed the captain an envelope, and he passed it on to Thomas. “Your copy of the death certificate.”

  Thomas slipped it into his pocket and went to get Daniel. He wasn’t going home.

  Daniel would get on the plane with Fergus for safekeeping while Thomas took the high-speed ferry to Capri. He could be there in a little more than an hour.

  The Wallace jet in Naples would serve as a good alibi if needed.

  He had information the police didn’t have. Yet. The location of Ricco’s villa on Capri.

  

  Capri, Italy

  Friday, July 7

  Inside the cabin, the motion of the sea’s turbulence paralleled Mercy’s emotions. Wind lashed waves against the porthole. Rain pounded the deck above her head. She sat on the sofa, Lorenz across from her in the chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles, never taking his eyes off her.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  He stared, never blinking. “You’ll know when we get there.”

  “Your English is very good. Did you spend time in the States?”

  No reply.

  She tried a friendly smile. “Why don’t you just let me go? The police are looking for the yacht, even now. They know Ricco abducted me. Think about it, Lorenz. As long as you hold me, they will put forth all their efforts to rescue me. Make your escape plans, leave me on the boat or wherever, call and tell the authorities where I am. All their manpower will come to find me, giving you a better chance of getting away.”

  He laughed. “Are you worried about me? I’m touched.” He was enjoying this. “We’ll get away, whether we let you go or not. Besides, Ricco has plans for you.” He propped his feet up on the coffee table. “You found out about dear Edda, I understand.”

  Mercy didn’t expect that. “Edda? You knew—Of course, you did. She worked for you.”

  “Very clever of you to figure that out. She was really quite easy to seduce, a middle-aged woman looking for romance.”

  “And you’ll let her go to prison without a backward glance.”

  He snorted. “Why should I care? I originally recruited her to find the pictures at the villa. But when Ricco decided he would rather have you dead...Edda stepped in. She didn’t like you, anyway.”

  “You were the shooter on the ridge.”

  “Is this true confessions time?” Lorenz shrugged. “I wouldn’t have missed if it hadn’t been for that meddling old man.”

  The yacht’s motors slowed and then stopped. The unmistakable sound of the anchor dropping into the sea filtered into the cabin, followed by the splash of the launch as it hit the water, and then bounced against the yacht’s port side.

  She stiffened as her nerve endings sparked. She didn’t want to die.

  Lorenz sat like a cat watching a mouse hole, waiting for her to try something.

  In a battle of strength, she would lose. She motioned to her ripped shirt. “I need to change.”

  He nodded. “Leave the door open. Hurry. We’ll be leaving soon.”

  Leaving for where?

  Gait unsteady, she crossed to the bedroom and opened the closet. She quickly slipped into a long sleeved sweater and took down her purse. She needed a weapon, something to give her an edge.

  She scrambled through the bag’s contents and pulled out a metal fingernail file. Not m
uch, but it might work. She slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. In the bathroom, she found a small trial-size can of hairspray, and stuck it into her purse.

  Movement made her glance into the mirror. The Italian henchman loomed, staring. He leaned against the doorjamb. “Looking for something?”

  She ran a nervous hand through her hair. How long had he been watching her? “Yes, my toothbrush.”

  He chuckled and placed his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her back into the sitting room. “I don’t think you’ll need to worry about a toothbrush.”

  Minutes later, she was on deck. Despite an umbrella, the storm soaked through her clothing as the wind whipped rain sideways. The downpour ran into her eyes, blurring her vision.

  Lorenz pushed her in front of him and started her down the ladder.

  Ricco waited in the launch. Halfway to the bottom, Ricco put both hands around her waist and lifted her into the bobbing vessel.

  Lorenz and two men from the crew followed her onboard.

  Fighting the waves and swells, the small boat made its way towards the pier. Fifteen minutes later, they reached the dock where a car waited.

  Forced into the backseat between Ricco and Lorenz, she couldn’t see through the dark, rain soaked windows but sensed they were climbing into the hills. Her wet clothes stuck to the leather seats, and she shivered.

  Ricco fingered the wet sleeve of her sweater. “You’re cold, cara mia. My apologies. I would give you my jacket, but it is equally wet. You’ll find warm clothes at the villa.”

  Her teeth chattered. “Y-your villa. Is that where we’re going?”

  He pointed at the windshield. “Yes, it’s just ahead. Traci loved it here.”

  30

  Isle of Capri, Italy

  Friday, July 7

  It was after midnight when they approached a white stone wall that seemed to encompass the property. The rain had slowed to a heavy mist, but exterior lighting brightened the night, framing the view in a foggy haze. The second floor was visible above the high fence.

  The man next to the driver got out and opened a heavy iron gate. The car moved up the illuminated drive and stopped under the portico at the villa’s entrance.

  Ricco turned to Lorenz. “Take her to Traci’s room. I’ll join you there.”

  The cold-eyed thug clenched his hand around her arm and pulled her from the car. He led her inside and up to the second floor. He stopped at the first door on the right, and shoved her inside. He held up his hand. “Wait here.”

  He peeled off his wet jacket and tossed it on a chair. His gun was tucked into a shoulder holster. Moving across the room, he checked the door leading to the balcony and then opened one of the window blinds and looked outside. From there, he moved into the bathroom.

  Her hands trembled as she stood in the bedroom doorway. Some instinct warned her this man was infinitely more dangerous than Ricco.

  The bedroom, like the 18th Century palazzo, was furnished with a Tuscany motif. Decorative tile floors and massive dark furniture filled the space. A king-size bed with an enormous carved headboard sat centered on the wall. Bed coverings were in earth tones of deep brown and red. A large wrought iron chandelier with simulated candle lighting, hung from the beamed ceiling. Gold, ruby, and brown damask fabric covered pillows on the tan sofa and love seat in front of a stone fireplace. So much splendor. So much evil.

  Lorenz came back into the sitting room. “Get changed. The closet is just off the bathroom.”

  Hoping there might be a window, she was disappointed to find only a large glass-block wall that allowed in light, but no egress.

  She found jeans, a thick pullover, and dry tennis shoes in the walk-in-closet, glad for the warmth they provided.

  Traci seemed to have left clothes everywhere she stayed for any length of time. The scattered wardrobe had served her well.

  Taking a handful of tissues from the box on the vanity, Mercy wrapped them around the file’s blunt end, and placed it into her jeans hip pocket, then tucked the hairspray canister into the hand warmers sewn into the front of the sweatshirt.

  When she returned to the bedroom, Ricco had already arrived.

  He set a pot of tea and three cups on the coffee table. “I brought you some hot tea. I also brought brandy you can add if you like, or drink it straight. It will take away the chill. Sorry I can’t provide a snack. The villa has been closed for the summer.” He shrugged. “I have no staff here at present.”

  She shook her head, refusing the cup he offered.

  “It’s safe to drink, cara mia. I’m not an ogre. I don’t use drugs to capture a woman’s affection.” He offered the tea again.

  This time, she took it. The hot, sweet liquid stopped her trembling and gave her a boost of energy.

  Ricco walked across the room and placed one hand on the hearth, the other held his tea. He turned to face her. “You must be wondering what’s to become of you.” He didn’t wait for her answer. “I’ve decided to release you, let you return to wherever you call home.”

  Before she could absorb his words, Lorenz jumped to his feet. “You can’t do that, Ricco. She knows who we are.”

  Ricco shook his head. “The police know who we are, and will soon know about this place. The moment the boy reached safety, they knew.”

  “They don’t know me. Look, I’ll take care of her, just as I did Traci. Consider it a parting gift.”

  Too much information came at Mercy too fast. Her gaze darted from Lorenz to Ricco. “He killed Traci? Daniel’s mother is dead?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry to say. You won’t believe it, but I truly am sorry.”

  “How? When?”

  Ricco shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  Lorenz gave a tight smile. “I took care of Traci months ago, although I guess you could say she committed suicide. She ran from me and fell off the cliff. Your demise will be handled more efficiently, I assure you.”

  “It’s over, Lorenz. I’m going into hiding in Pakistan or Syria.” Ricco shrugged. “Not my preference, but it probably had to happen sooner or later. You’re welcome to come along, but a man with your impeccable taste would probably find it rather crude.”

  The assassin looked at her. “No, I’ll stay here. I have other plans.”

  Ricco walked across to where she sat and cupped her face in his hand. “I’m truly sorry to have put you through all this.” He gave a short laugh. “It really is too bad you’re not Traci. It would make the desert nights much more bearable. Ciao, cara mia.”

  He shot Lorenz a hard glare. “Let her go.” He walked to the door, and his hand reached for the doorknob, just before the back of his head exploded.

  Mercy screamed, staring at the gun in Lorenz’s hand, momentarily frozen. She was so scared she hyperventilated. From somewhere she found the strength to run, but he stood between her and the doorway.

  He stepped forward, his gaze never leaving hers. He re-holstered the gun and never paused as he closed the gap between them. His arm snaked out and grabbed her left wrist.

  She twisted free, feeling pain radiate up her arm into her shoulder. Her legs came against the bed behind her. She twisted, leaped onto the bed, and moved back against the headboard. Her legs wobbled as her feet sank into the mattress, but she retained her balance.

  If he leaped on the bed, she could go off either side and make a dash for the door.

  A macabre dance ensued. He moved to one side, she in the opposite direction. At the side of the headboard, she grabbed at the post and the round ball came off in her hand. If her aim was true, perhaps she could stun him long enough to get the gun.

  Lorenz stopped and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “What? You think you can harm me with that? You can’t escape, you know. Do you want me to shoot you?”

  “That wouldn’t be my first choice,” she said with a boldness she didn’t feel, “but I figure it’s in your long range plans.”

  Lorenz eyed her up and down. “Not right away. It
would amuse me to tame some of that spirit. Who knows? You might convince me not to kill you.”

  She lifted the wooded ball and hurled it with all her strength. It found its mark, bounced off his head and rolled away. As soon as the object left her hand, she made a dash for the door. She almost made it.

  His hand grabbed her hoodie and slammed her back against him. The assassin shoved her back towards the bed.

  She couldn’t win this fight.

  He had a gun and strength on his side.

  God, help me.

  When she hit the bed, she rolled to the side and bounced to her feet. Before she could run again, he caught her left arm, causing her to wince in pain.

  He turned her to face him. “You want to make this a fight? OK by me.” He leaned towards her, pulling her closer.

  Mercy grasped the hairspray canister inside the shirt pocket and placed her finger on the nozzle. As he bent forward, she blasted both his eyes with the alcohol and hydrocarbon liquid.

  He roared with rage, cursing. Clutching at his eyes, he released her.

  Grasping the nail file from her pocket, she stabbed his right hand, and bolted for the door.

  She bounded over Ricco’s body in the doorway, and ran down the stairs.

  Screaming curses followed her. “You’d better run fast, little girl. Because when I catch you...” The sounds of breaking glass and crashes told her he would soon follow, and the grounds’ exterior lights would make it difficult to hide.

  Outside, the fine mist offered no concealment. She did a three-sixty turn. Which way to run? With a snap decision, she ran towards the garage. Please Lord, let there be a car with keys in the ignition.

  Two vehicles sat side-by-side, a sports car with the top down and no key, and the Jaguar sedan they rode in to the villa. Please, please let there be keys.

  Jerking the driver’s door open, she scanned the ignition. Nothing.

  Lorenz’s voice sounded outside in the quiet night. “Mercy, I’m coming. Playing hide and seek will make it more fun when I catch you. And make no mistake, I will find you.”