Acts of Mercy (23 page)

“I’m just curious why numbers are assigned like that.”

“So that you can look at the field and even if you don’t know the players, you know what positions are on the field and you have an idea of what kind of play might be called.”

Fiona shrugged. She supposed his explanation made about as much sense as anything else.

“Boy, I haven’t been back here in years.” Sam looked around with a sort of wonder on his face.

“Tommy said you played, too?”

“Yeah. My brother played but he broke his arm his sophomore year and he just wasn’t the same after that. I was lucky—I never had any serious injuries and I was recruited to play in college.” He smiled wistfully. “Man, we had some times here in this stadium. We played some football here.”

“I thought that was you.” A figure slipped into the empty space next to Sam.

“Hey, Drew!” Sam greeted an old friend. “I was just thinking about you. It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too. How long’s it been?”

“Too long.” Sam turned to Fiona. “Fiona, this is Drew Novak. We went all through school together. Kindergarten through high school. Drew, this is Fiona Summers.”

Fiona smiled and took the hand Sam’s friend offered.

“What brings you back, man?” Drew asked.

“Just wanted to see the family.” Sam turned his attention to the field where the team was lining up for a play. “My nephew Tommy’s out there somewhere.”

“He’s number eighty-three,” Drew told him. “My son Jake is the quarterback. They hang out together a lot.”

A smile crossed Sam’s face. “Eighty-three is my old number.”

“I know. I told Tommy if it was available he should ask for it.”

“Nice of you to remember.”

“How could I ever forget?” Drew laughed. “Those were our glory days, pal.”

“You had your share of glory in college, as I recall.”

“It wasn’t the same. High school, now that mattered.” Drew glanced around the stands. “You, me, Steve, Vic, Blake—we mattered.”

“I know what you mean.” Sam nodded. “The five of us were together all those years.”

“Steve and Blake are around somewhere.” Drew
scanned the crowded stands. “I saw them both earlier but I don’t know where they are now.”

“They’re still in the area?”

“Some of us never really left, Sam. You’re the only one who did.”

“Do you still see those guys? I mean, on a regular basis?” Sam asked.

“Pretty much. Some of us drifted back after college and settled down. Brought our brides with us from school or married someone from town. Me, I married Jessie Makefield. Remember her?”

“I sure do. Prettiest girl in the class two years behind us.”

“Yeah, Jessie’s still the same. We have three kids. Jake’s the oldest.” Drew patted Sam on the arm. “I heard about your wife. I’m real sorry. I should have called you but …”

“It’s okay, Drew.”

“Well, it’s nice that you’re seeing someone.” Drew nodded in Fiona’s direction. Sam could have corrected him, but didn’t. He merely smiled.

“How long are you home for?”

“Just a few days.”

“If you find yourself with some spare time, give me a call, okay? I’m in the book.”

“I’ll do that.”

“I better get back down there, gotta keep an eye on my boy. He’s going to ask me when he gets home how I thought his arm looked.”

“It’s looking damned good to me.”

“I’ll tell him you said so. You’re still a legend around here, you know.”

“Oh, Christ.” Sam grimaced, and Drew laughed.

“Good to meet you, Fiona,” Drew said as he went down the bleachers to the bottom row.

“A legend?” She smiled. “Sam DelVecchio, local legend?”

“It was all a long time ago.”

“Not in the minds of some.”

Sam turned to look around the crowd. Here and there he saw once familiar faces. Steve Molino, one of his best friends all through high school, was seated on the top row. Farther down and close to the middle sat Blake Carter, another old buddy. Down on the field stood Billy Finnegan. Finn hadn’t changed much at all, Sam mused. He wondered what he was doing with himself these days.

“You said Tommy was number eighty-three?” Fiona poked him in the ribs.

“Yes.”

“He’s on the field now.”

Sam stood with the rest of the crowd to watch, his arm around Fiona. The quarterback—Jake Novak, Drew’s son. Sam shook his head. It was almost surreal to him. His nephew, Drew’s son … probably the sons of other old friends out there, too, he thought. I’ll have to ask Tommy if he has a copy of the roster.

The crowd ooohed as the lofting pass sailed into Tommy’s hands and he sprinted down the field toward the end zone.

“The boy’s got some speed,” Sam noted.

“Is that family pride I hear in your voice?”

“Damn right. He’s going to be good.”

“As good as you?”

“Better.”

They watched the entire practice, and when it was over, applauded the effort along with everyone else.

On the way back to the car, Sam encountered a number of people he knew from his past. Several classmates, even some old teachers, caught up with him in the parking lot.

“I don’t know why I stayed away so long,” he said to Fiona when they were on their way back to Andrea’s. “It’s so good to see everyone again.”

“Well, it was good to see who’s still around,” she told him. “I think it will help in the long run to identify the killer.”

“Are you serious? You’re talking about people I’ve known all my life.”

“One of them is a killer, Sam.”

“Why does it have to be one of them? Why not someone else from around here?”

“Someone random?” She shook her head. “You know better than that. It’s someone you’ve known, someone you’ve been close enough to that he’d know things about you. Like your birthday. Like the day your wife was killed.”

Sam frowned. “How would someone from here know the exact date? The Bureau kept the story out of the news as a courtesy to me, and I know neither my brother nor my sister talked it up around town.”

“That’s a good question. Maybe we ought to think about that.”

“What are you saying? You think this guy … this guy we’re looking for killed Carly?” He looked at her as if she’d just sprouted a second head. “Are you crazy? We know who killed her, Fiona.”

“I’m just saying, maybe we should consider—”

“No. It isn’t possible.” Sam waited in line for his chance to pull out of the parking lot, his jaw set, his eyes avoiding hers. “Christ, you sound like Mancini.”

“Sam, like it or not, we’ve already agreed that someone from your past—my guess is someone you considered a good friend—has set this all up to bring you back here. You even agreed that it was someone—”

“That was before I came back and saw people again. You just met a couple of my best friends from growing up. Seeing them … I can’t believe that any of them could have killed anyone. I can’t think of one reason why any one of them would have cause to hate me so much.”

“Sam the legend. Sam the great football player. Sam the college star. Sam who got out of town and made it big as an FBI profiler.” She leaned back in the seat, her arms crossed over her chest. “Should I go on?”

“No. You’re wrong. It isn’t one of my friends.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” she said quietly. “You of all people know better.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

H
e sat on the hard metal seat, his feet on the row in front of him, his arms resting on his knees, a smile on his face.

He was so damned smart. He couldn’t get over just how smart he was. All those years, everyone thought DelVecchio was the smart one. Man, if they only knew how he’d been outsmarted—his mind had been played with all these years.

If they could only know how much he’d taken from Sam … how many sleepless nights he’d caused him … how much pain.

Plenty more where that came from
.

It had all been so very simple, so easy. Even now, he marveled at how easy it had all been, how clever he’d been, right from the start.

Of course, his very cleverness was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because no one—no one—could ever guess the lengths he’d gone to over the years to break Sam DelVecchio. A curse, because, well, because the very nature of the game ensured that no one could ever know,
would
ever know, how he’d bested the best over and over. But it was okay, he
assured himself, because in the end, in the very end, Sam would know all, and he’d understand that the price that was exacted was merely what was due.

Sam had ruined his life. It was only fair.

He watched Sam move through the crowd, his arm around the pretty woman with the long black hair. She might do, but he really didn’t like dealing with women. It just didn’t seem quite right. But then, there was the boy. Sam was obviously very fond of him. Of course, there’s the brother …

So many targets to chose from, only one act left. Well, two, actually, but the last was going to be very special, and that was reserved for Sam.

Oh, yes. Payback was a bitch.

W
hat do you mean, Tom left?” Sam frowned at his sister after she’d given him the news. “When did he leave?”

“Around three. He said he was going to watch Tommy’s football practice and would try to meet up with you there. From there, he said he was going home.” Andrea was tall and slender and in midpregnancy with her third child. “And before you start yelling, keep in mind that Tom is older than you and he’s very stubborn, and he’s going to do what he wants.” She held a hand up in protest when Sam started to speak. “What he wanted to do was watch his son on the football field, then go back to the farm to see how his hired guys were getting along. He was bored out of his mind here today. And yes, I tried to explain to him that you were going to be annoyed but as usual, that really wasn’t much of a deterrent.”

“Is Kitty still here?”

“No. She went with Tom to the field. They were going to pick up Gil from school on their way back to town.” She glanced at Fiona and said, “This is a sorry
introduction to Sam’s family. This is merely the usual DelVecchio drama.”

It was apparent to Sam that Andrea was reading more into Fiona’s presence than there was, but he did nothing to correct her. Instead, he kissed his sister on the cheek, patted her growing tummy, and said, “It’s not your fault. Tom is who he is: one stubborn cuss. I should have known he wouldn’t be able to hang around for a whole day doing nothing. It isn’t in his nature.”

He assured Andrea that the police car would remain on the scene for as long as they needed it, but didn’t really think she’d be in any danger.

“This guy has never gone after a woman,” he told her. “I think there will be two more targets, the last one probably being me. The next one … I’m not sure who that’s going to be.”

“You think it could be Tom,” Andrea stated.

“I think there’s a chance it could be him,” Sam replied slowly. “I’m thinking the killer’s going to go after someone close to me. Why else draw me back here unless to heighten the threat? I could be wrong about that, but I don’t think I am. My instincts are telling me he wants to close this out soon.”

His sister’s face had gone completely white, and he realized how insensitive he’d been in speaking so candidly.

“On the other hand, Sam could be completely off base about all of this. And as much as I hate to be the one to break this bit of news, he really isn’t infallible. His read on this could be all wrong,” Fiona hastened to tell her. “Let us worry about it, okay? You have
enough to deal with here. But be assured that your home and your family will be protected.”

“I’m not worried about me,” Andrea told her. “I’m worried about Tom. If you think the killer is going to go after someone close to you—most likely a man, you said—then who is going to be protecting Tom?”

“I will be,” Sam said.

“That’s great, Sam.” Andrea stood with her hands on her hips, clearly not impressed. “But who’s got your back?”

“I do,” Fiona told her. “I’ve got Sam’s back.”

“Well,” Andrea said, “let’s hope that’s enough.”

“It will be,” Sam assured her. “Fiona’s got a reputation as a real marksman.”

Fiona drew back one side of the big shirt she wore partially buttoned over her tank top.

“I don’t leave home without it.” She tapped on the small handgun in the black holster that rode her waist on the right.

“I was raised around guns. I have a lot of respect for them,” Andrea told Fiona before kissing her brother good-bye. “Be careful.”

He hugged her again and promised, “I will be.”

Once they were back in the car, Sam’s temper—stifled for the sake of his pregnant sister—erupted. “I’m going to rip him a new one.”

“Let it go, Sam. From what you and Andrea both said, Tom isn’t likely to change. You said it yourself: he’s going to do what he wants.”

“Kitty’s too young to be a widow. His kids need him.” His eyes shielded by his sunglasses, he pulled away from the curb with enough speed to catch the
attention of the police officer who sat in a car across the street. Sam waved as he passed by.

“You need to get a grip,” she told him. “Scaring the crap out of your entire family is not going to help the situation.”

“My family doesn’t react to anything unless they’re scared shitless. They all think they’re immortal.”

“Like you do?”

“I’ve seen too much. I know I’m—”

“Oh, can it. You’re running around as if you don’t have a target on your back.”

“He’s saving me for last, Fiona. He’s not going to come after me until he’s finished with the sixth act.”

“That may be the most likely scenario, but you don’t know that for certain. And you don’t know that he hasn’t killed that last victim already. Maybe there was one—one other one—that we didn’t find, Sam. Someone we hadn’t heard about. Maybe he’s on his last one already and we just don’t know it.”

When he didn’t reply, she continued.

“I’m calling John, and I’m going to ask him to send out some backup. The farm is too big and fronts onto several different roads. Two people cannot possibly ensure that no one gets close to the house. If you want to ensure that Tom and Kitty and the kids are safe, we need more people.”