Shadow Warrior (Shadow Riders 4)

Phillips had made himself at home up there. There was furniture, overstuffed chairs and a low couch that had seen better days. Food wrappers were scattered on the floor, and a half-opened cooler had food items in it. Water bottles full and empty were near the couch. Phillips lay on the sofa with his back to Vittorio, curled almost in the fetal position.

Vittorio stepped from the mouth of the shadow he was in to a smaller one that took him right up to the sleeping serial killer. This man, wrapped in rags, had killed several people, torturing them first. He had impacted Grace’s life severely, terrorizing her deliberately. Vittorio stood in the shadows, hearing the sounds of the outside world, the cars going by. A lawnmower. Someone calling out a greeting to someone else. The world kept moving, but here in this attic, time had slowed.

He studied Phillips. He wasn’t moving at all. Not a single muscle. There was no restless turning over. Strangely, he’d just arrived, not more than a few minutes before Vittorio and yet he was already asleep. Soundly. Vittorio started to move forward out of the mouth of the shadow, but an alarm skittered down his back and he locked himself into position, carefully studying the body.

The body. Phillips was dead. There was no rise and fall of the rags around him to indicate he was breathing. There was no sound to give it away. Vittorio took a careful look around the attic. There was no one else there, he was certain of it. He was alone with the body. He rode the shadow that would take him closest to Phillips. Out of habit, he didn’t step from the mouth of the shadow, not wanting to leave any trace of his existence there behind.

He got very close, but stayed concealed, taking his time, examining the body. He leaned over it. Phillips’s face was grizzled, his jaw covered in gray and black stubble. Lines creased his skin. Wrinkles. His nose was large and mottled from far too much alcohol. Vittorio’s heart jumped. This man was definitely not Haydon Phillips. More, he had just died.

Haydon Phillips had known the photographs he’d sent to Grace would lead back to his hideout. He was certain the police would find his home in the Fieldses’ attic. He had deliberately lured a homeless man to the house and then killed him, leaving the body for the police to discover when they got there. He had no idea the Ferraros were the ones tracking him.

He’d been there minutes before Vittorio, waiting for the homeless man, leading him up to the attic and then killing him quickly. Vittorio smelled blood mixed with alcohol. He leaned closer and immediately saw that blood had pooled beneath the victim, soaking into the couch cushion. His throat had been cut. Caught between his right sleeve and the back of the sofa was something that looked like a piece of paper, or a photograph. Vittorio debated, but then, because he wore gloves, removed the item.

Flipping it around, his heart dropped. The photograph had been taken at the Ferraro Hotel. It was taken in the foyer of the penthouse. Stefano’s penthouse. Haydon Phillips had been inside Stefano’s home.CHAPTER EIGHTEENIdon’t like this,” Vittorio said for the tenth time to Emilio. “There are too many people and no way to cover everyone.”

Emilio looked at him with cool eyes. “My worst nightmare,” he admitted. “I don’t like that Stefano insisted I come to help protect the family here, when he’s a sitting duck with Francesca in the hotel. She can’t move fast. I doubt she would agree to make a run for it. And where is safe? That little bastard seems to be able to go anywhere he pleases without getting caught.”

Vittorio took a slow look around him. Midnight Madness felt just as if it had been aptly named. The huge ballroom was decorated like the outdoors, the ceiling covered in stars, the heavy drapes covering the walls midnight blue with stars scattered over the tops of them like gems in the night sky.

Doors stood open in order to allow guests to spill outside onto the enormous patio where food and drink had been set up. The inside and outside areas merged seamlessly, and the music poured into both spaces without intruding. Vittorio knew it was that way because Grace had spoken to the band several times until she got exactly what she wanted.

Couples danced under the artificial stars with their luminous lights beckoning. He wasn’t entirely certain how Katie and Grace had pulled it off, but the décor was elegant and beautiful, carved ice sculptures and flowing waterfalls with the same luminous lights as the stars had pouring into fountains.

The event was in full swing. Vittorio recognized most of their guests, celebrities from movies and television to powerful political figures. The Saldis had a presence. Of course they’d been invited. Midnight Madness was an annual charity event that raised several million dollars each year. Teodosiu Giordano was there as well, but he had merely said hello and drifted off with the lady he’d brought with him. Eloisa wouldn’t leave out major contributors, although Giuseppi and Greta couldn’t come due to Greta’s illness taking such a toll on her.