/> In Catania Vittorio met with the American private investigator at his office. It was nine o’clock and the office was closed, all lights off except for the executive suite that housed Vittorio’s office.
The detective, a former FBI agent, sat across the desk from Vitt, a notepad open on his lap, telling Vitt everything he’d discovered.
He’d discovered a great deal.
It required all of Vitt’s self-control to remain seated with his expression neutral while the detective revealed everything he’d discovered about Vittorio’s new wife.
April Holliday wasn’t Jillian’s only alias. Jillian Smith was an alias, as well. There were three other aliases before she had become Jillian Smith at age sixteen.
She’d been in the U.S. government’s witness protection program for fourteen years, had moved numerous times and changed her looks and name repeatedly because her family’s safety had been repeatedly compromised.
“She had four different identities on file with the government,” the detective said, glancing briefly at his notes. “She was creating that fifth one—April Holliday—when we located her in Carmel. But April Holliday wasn’t a government-issued identity. It was one she’d created on her own to hide from you.”
Vitt’s brow lowered. “Is she still part of the witness protection program?”
“She is supposed to be. The rest of her family still is.”
“Where is her family?”
“Parents are in Florida. The exact location isn’t known.”
“Who are they?”
The detective shook his head. “That is the one piece of information missing from her file.” He leaned forward, slid a sheet of paper across the desk toward Vittorio. On the paper he’d listed all of Jill’s aliases, including her schools and studies and the different addresses from the time she was twelve until now. “There is nothing I could find that gives her birth name, or her parents’ original names. Like Jillian, her family goes by Smith, and has used Smith for a number of years. We do know that the entire family, a family of four—mother, father and two daughters—was placed in the program fourteen years ago but we don’t know why.”
Vittorio calmly studied the paper in his hand, his relaxed features revealing none of his inner tension. There was a reason Jill had run from him in Bellagio. She’d heard the word Mafioso whispered and disappeared like a thief in the night. And she’d kept running until he’d found her. But she remained terrified of him. She’d made it clear she didn’t trust him, or believe that he wasn’t connected to the mafia. She’d said so several times.
She had to be linked to the mob herself. Had to have insider knowledge. Why else would she be so completely unable to trust him?
“There is nothing here of her original identity,” he said, glancing at the former FBI agent. “According to this paper, she didn’t even exist before she was twelve.”
“That’s right. Everything in her file that would link her to a birth name, birthplace, or birth date was completely erased.”
Vitt kept his expression neutral. “Is this normal protocol for the United States’ protection program?”
“No.”
“But you’ve seen this before?”
The detective hesitated. “Yes. There are two incidences when I’ve seen this happen—when the government is protecting a foreign spy, or a high-ranking member of an organized crime family.”
There it was. The connection to organized crime. Vitt had known it in his gut, but wondered why it’d taken him so long to see it.
“So what do you think we’re dealing with?” Vitt asked, sounding bored.
“She’s the daughter of an American mob boss.”
Vitt felt hard and cold all the way through. It’s what he’d been thinking, but somehow it sounded a thousand times worse spoken aloud. “Are there many in the American government’s witness protection program?”
“A half dozen.”
“Anyone you view a particular threat?”
“One or two, although Frankie Giordano is the one the government is most protective of. He sold out the entire Detroit operation, and Detroit was linked to nearly every other operation.”
Vitt nodded slowly. “Which means Giordano gave up everyone.”
“Yes.”