She looked up at him with her clear, far too intelligent green eyes. “Do you expect company?”
“Not that I know of, but it is possible.” He waited. She would be part of their world and that meant secrecy at all times. She couldn’t tell a soul anything he told her. Trust worked both ways and he was trusting her with his life and the lives of his family members.
Grace was used to keeping secrets and she nodded slowly. “Just be safe, Vittorio.”
“Always.” He bent down and kissed her gently.
Grace kissed him back, surrendering immediately, giving him everything he could ask for. He tasted passion, but more importantly, he tasted love.
He turned away from her and went back to his room and changed his clothes from the casual ones he wore in the house, although those clothes were made of the same materials as his suits. No Ferraro would be caught out in public in casual clothes. He caught the nearest shadow that would take him, like a thoroughfare, into the city. The tube was fast, and he barely could make out the various branches he had to dive into in order to reach his destination.
He had to use smaller shadows for a short while, moving from one to the other until there was a large one he could take that led to the suburbs. The address was in a nicer part of the city. It was a gated community, which Vittorio found rather ironic since the family had a serial killer living in their attic. From what Rigina and Rosina had written in the report Stefano had sent to each of their burner phones, some of the pictures had been taken in other residences within that same small community. The residents thought themselves safer behind that gate, but they weren’t.
He spotted Raimondo just down the street. How he had gotten through those gates was anyone’s guess, but he was trained by the best and it would have been easy enough for any one of their bodyguards to find a way in that appeared legitimate should the cops ask any questions.
Standing across the street, Vittorio studied every shadow leading to the house. The dog had settled down and was very quiet. He didn’t want to chance disturbing it. Sometimes, when they moved past, even though an animal couldn’t actually see them, the sensation was so disturbing, the dog would bark ferociously, or in some cases, fearfully.
There were several shadows leading to the front door. He couldn’t chance being seen; he would have to ensure whichever shadow he took would take him into the house. The blinds were drawn so there was no way of seeing inside. From across the street, inside the mouth of the tube, he couldn’t hear anything that was going on in the house.
Making up his mind, he took a breath and stepped into the largest shadow cast from a tree in the front yard. At once the tube pulled him into what felt like pieces, his body flying apart. The sensation of the dark cylinder spinning around him, over his head and under his feet as he streaked through, added to the sickening feeling.
He shot through the tube, the speed hurling him through so fast it was difficult to see. They’d trained from the time they were little to see under dizzying conditions, a glimpse enough for their brains to catalogue and sort out where they were and what they actually saw. Right now, he was across the street, over the lawn, up the side of the porch to the front door and inside. Abruptly the shadow ended, and he was forced to put the brakes on too fast as he was nearly hurled onto the floor of the front room.
Vittorio waited until his body adjusted to the motionless position after the wild ride. He listened for a moment. The house was eerily silent. Once he heard a creak, but it wasn’t overhead, as it should be. The noise sounded like it came from the back of the house. It was possible Phillips was moving around, making himself at home, now that the family was gone.
Vittorio stepped into a shadow that led from the front room to the hallway. The tube extended nearly to the back of the house, thrown by an overhead light left on, illuminating the way. He rode the shadow as far as possible and took one that brought him to the kitchen. The room was empty, but he could see this was where one of the entrances to the attic was. A trapdoor was built into the ceiling overhead. He could see the frame cleverly concealed by the design painted on the ceiling.
Vittorio took his time, ensuring that Phillips was in the attic and not somewhere in the house itself. He had already chosen his entry point for the attic and it wasn’t from inside the house. He retreated, going back to the front and then traveling around the house to a side yard, away from the dog and herb garden. A tree cast a perfect shadow going up the side of the house to a large grate that vented the attic. He rode straight up and into the large area without hesitation.