Maurizio glanced uncomfortably around the room and nodded towards the door.
“Let’s discuss it over coffee,” he said.
—
He led them from the station onto the noisy throughway of Via Medina. In a piazza on the back side of the station, they found outdoor seating at a café.
“Valerio’s been on administrative leave since the Mancusi shooting,” Maurizio told them. “That means nobody’s very worried about him being out of comms. I talked to my boss this morning, and played him the voicemail. He isn’t convinced it means anything.”
“Valerio’s in danger,” Orlanda insisted. Her voice was tight and unsteady. “He certainly thinks the kids are. Why else would he tell Giorgia to leave town?”
Nikki weighed in with what Valerio had told her about Silvestri and Errichiello, and showed the photograph of Yasen Lazarov, the Bulgarian Ghost. She felt guilty repeating this. Valerio must have had his reasons for telling her and not his partner or sister. She hoped he would forgive her.
“Valerio told me about surveilling Silvestri,” Maurizio said. “I looked into him, but he’s clean. And I searched the pictures Valerio took, including this image of—this Ghost—but I couldn’t get a hit. Now that I have a name—Yasen Lazarov—I’ll see what we have on him.”
Orlanda, who had been pinching her fingers, leaned forward and grabbed Maurizio’s arm.
“Can’t you get a warrant for this guy—Silvestri?” she asked.
Maurizio shook his head. “There’s not really enough to convince a magistrate, even if I can confirm the identity of this Ghost. Valerio didn’t tell me what he was doing, and he hasn’t been missing long enough to get anyone here worried. I’ll get some local cops over to the property, knock on the door, see if there’s anything I can put on the warrant. If I’m successful—and that’s a bigif—it would be at least twenty-four hours before we could get inside.”
Nikki’s stomach turned. She looked at her watch: 17:31. Eleven hours since Valerio’s voicemail. A lifetime, if he was in trouble.
“Did Valerio tell you anything?” she asked Orlanda. “Anything Maurizio can use to get a warrant?”
“No!” Orlanda started crying. The emotion seemed to make her angry and she pressed her palms to her eyes. “He’s such an idiot. He doesn’t tell me anything. What ifIgo to Silvestri’s house? What if I bang on the door and make him let me in?”
Maurizio said gently, “That could put you in harm’s way. Valerio wouldn’t want that.”
She shoved the tears back. Her eyes narrowed.
“There was a man,” she said. “He came looking for Valerio atMamma’s house, the morning after that woman was killed in the church. Could he have anything to do with this?”
“Did he give a name?” Nikki asked.
“Federico…yes. That was it. Federico.”
Maurizio seemed to think. “Tall skinny guy? Old? Glasses?”
She nodded.
Maurizio exhaled. “I may know who he is: an old addict Valerio helped a long time ago. I’ve met him a few times. He owns a shop not far from here.”
He turned to Nikki. “I’ll text you Federico’s address. You start there. I’ll head back in the office and see what I can do. It’s the end of the day, and Valerio gave me a big fatnothingto go on, but I’ll see whether I can get a magistrate to issue a warrant.”
—
“Is there someplace you can go?” Nikki asked Orlanda after Maurizio left. “If Valerio was worried about Giorgia and the kids, you may also be at risk. You should take your mother someplace.”
Orlanda glanced around, as if the threat was lurking around the corner.
“I’m not sure where we could go,” she said.
Nikki dug in her bag, and pulled out her house key.
“Take her to my place until we find Valerio. I’ll call you when I know anything.”
—
