Taviano and Emmanuelle arrived almost instantly. Emmanuelle rushed to Eloisa with a little cry. Taviano stood back waiting for Vittorio to tell him what he wanted done, but his gaze was on his mother’s body.
“Is she alive?”
“Barely. She needs to get to the hospital. I’ve texted Stefano. He’ll meet you there. I want you with Grace at all times. I don’t care what crap they give you, don’t leave her side.”
Taviano nodded. “Good hunting.”
“I won’t miss.”
He stood up and as he did so, he brushed a kiss on his sister’s cheek. “She’s strong, Emme. She’ll pull through.”
Vittorio went to Grace and crouched down. “Taviano will be with you. I’m going after Haydon.”
“He’s dangerous, Vittorio. He might turn back and hunt you. That’s the kind of thing he does.”
Vittorio kissed her gently, cognizant of her injuries. When he rose, he glanced around, saw Emilio and Enzo closing in. He stepped into the nearest shadow. It swallowed him up, pulling apart his body brutally, tearing at him, but he controlled the ride and forced his eyes to watch for signs of passing.
Haydon had to have gone straight out to the front gate. A fence surrounded the property. It was ornate, made of wrought iron, the spikes twisting high into the sky like braided spears. He could see faint streaks of light as if the man had left behind prints. They didn’t appear like footprints, there were mere faint bluish lights, more of a blob-line than a print, but every person left them behind and from shadows he could see them. He couldn’t spot the imaging once out of tube, but the shadows acted as if he was seeing through a thermal lens.
Haydon’s prints, like every individual’s, were unique. Vittorio knew he would always be able to spot them. The heat images faded fast, so he had to ensure he was close on the killer’s heels. Sometimes, if they were lucky, a person left behind skin cells, evidence of their passing that could be used, but they were much harder to spot when riding the faster tubes.
Vittorio stepped from one shadow to the next, following Haydon as he ran down the street leading to the main highway. Haydon had slowed his run, Vittorio could tell by the length of his strides. He went from one parked car along the street to the next, clearly looking for one to steal.
Vittorio deliberately chose a smaller shadow. They were much faster and harder on the body, ripping him apart and hurtling toward the end of the street where the blue, blobbish streaks seemed to suddenly disappear. He could see faint imaging indicating a body moving around the corner in a vehicle. He followed, jumping from one shadow to the next, finding several that took him almost to pace alongside the car, so he could make sure he was following the right man.
Haydon Phillips drove at a reckless speed, clearly furious, off his usual cool and deliberate game. He depended on Grace. She was, in essence, his family. He needed her, and in his sick fantasy, she was part of his world. She supported him, just as they’d supported each other when they were children together. He might get angry at her, but in the end, in his mind, it was the two of them against the world.
He drove too fast and carelessly, weaving in and out of traffic. Vittorio twice tried to find a shadow that would take him directly into the vehicle, but even going beneath the glaring streetlights, and using the fastest tubes, it was impossible. He couldn’t do anything but keep up with him.
With a sinking heart, Vittorio knew the inevitable happened. The siren sounded faint at first, a strange, waffling noise heard as more of a muffled wap wap wap inside the fast shadow he rode. The red and blue lights cut through the dark of the night as the law enforcement vehicle cut through the cars on the road to settle behind Haydon’s stolen car.
There was no way to warn the policemen that the man they were pulling over was a very desperate serial killer. Haydon glanced in his rearview mirror, cursed and spat, then hit the steering wheel several times. He slowed the car and began to pull to the side of the road. The police car behind him slowed as well and pulled to the slower lane in order to get directly behind Haydon’s car again.
Haydon suddenly accelerated and took the first exit available to him. His car fishtailed and then raced around the long curve leading back to a heavier-trafficked area. Vittorio was forced to step out of the small shadow and catch another to reverse his direction. The police car followed, but now they were a distance behind.
Haydon rounded the corner so that for a few seconds he was out of sight of the patrol car. He slammed on the brakes, opened the door and jumped onto a grassy section of the sloping embankment. The car continued forward at a rapid speed, gaining momentum as it rolled down the hill toward the traffic.