Amanda nodded.
Wow. That's amazing. Tony shrugged and smiled. Well, I didn't do it. Besides, you're forgetting that Cardoni admitted framing Justine by planting evidence at the farmhouse. That proves he was at the scene of the crime.
Ah, but it doesn't prove he committed the crime. Cardoni claimed that he framed Justine because he believed that she framed him four years ago.
Why would Justine do that?
Clifford Grant made a deal with Martin Breach to deliver a heart that was supposed to be transplanted into a wealthy Canadian. The police raided the airport when Grant arrived with it, but Grant escaped with the money and the organ. Grant had a partner. Breach didn't know the partner's name. The partner killed Grant to keep him from talking and buried him at the cabin. Cardoni's story is that the partner created a fall guy to throw Breach off the scent. With his addiction to cocaine and erratic behavior, Cardoni was the perfect patsy. Cardoni thought Justine was Grant's partner, so he framed her to get even. Now he claims that you were Grant's partner.
Of course he does. With Justine dead, he couldn't very well carry on with his ridiculous story that she framed him.
Oh, it's pretty clear that Cardoni was framed.
Yeah? Tony said as he dropped several handfuls of pasta into the boiling water.
Cardoni didn't know about the farm until shortly before he framed Justine. I talked to Mary Ann Jager, the lawyer who bought the property. She said that Cardoni showed up at her office a few days before Justine was arrested and tried to find out who owned it and how it had been purchased. Why would he do that if he already owned it?
Tony clapped his hands and laughed. Very impressive, Amanda. You're a terrific lawyer. You almost have me convinced that I killed everyone.
That's why I get paid the big bucks, Amanda said, making a small bow.
Still, when you add everything up, your case against me is purely circumstantial and pretty skinny.
I've won with less, she answered with a confident smile.
Tony sighed. Are you taking me in before dinner or do I get a last meal?
Amanda pointed to the skillet. That smells too good to waste. I think I'll wait until after we eat to bring you in.
Here's a reward for your kindness.
Tony secured a slender piece of veal on the tines of a fork and held it just out of reach of Amanda's lips.
Take a taste, he said, feeding the slice to Amanda. As soon as it was in her mouth, Tony swung his fist as hard as he could and caught Amanda flush on the jaw. She staggered. Tony pulled her to the ground and applied a choke hold. Amanda was unconscious in moments.
How about opening the wine? Tony said as he pressed tape over Amanda's mouth. He kept up a dialogue about his day at work, interspersed with cooking instructions, while he searched Amanda for a wire. If she was here on her own, he had no problems. If she was wired or the police had gotten into the house and planted listening devices, he would have to disappear. He didn't think the police were watching him on a concealed camera because they would have moved as soon as he hit Amanda.
Amanda began to stir. Tony rolled her over and secured her hands behind her back with a set of plastic restraints. He hastily scribbled a short note and took a sharp knife out of a drawer while regaling Amanda with a funny story about a screwup by a new intern. As soon as Amanda's eyes opened Tony pressed the knife to her throat and held up a note: one sound and i will blind you.
Amanda's eyes showed her fear, but she did not make a sound. Tony motioned her to her feet. Amanda scrambled up and stood unsteadily, still groggy from being rendered unconscious. Tony had removed all of her clothes during the search, but she was too terrified to be embarrassed. He pointed toward the basement door with his knife. Amanda hesitated, and he stabbed her in the arm. Amanda gasped. Tony put the knife to her eye and she stumbled down the hall.
Is that a great Chianti or what? Tony asked cheerfully.
Chapter 65
Something's wrong, Mike Greene said. He, Alex DeVore, Sean McCarthy and a technician were squeezed in the back of a van jammed with electronic equipment.
They're talking, Alex DeVore said.
No, he's talking. She hasn't spoken in more than five minutes. I put a watch on them. She's got to be nervous. Hell, she's got to be terrified. Someone in that state should be talking a blue streak. It's her only contact with us.
Mike might be right, McCarthy said.
If we send the men in now, we blow it, DeVore cautioned.
If we don't and something happens to Amanda, I
Hold it, the tech interrupted. They're in the basement. I can hear them going down the stairs.
Send the men in, now, McCarthy yelled, ripping off his headset.
DeVore yanked the mike from the tech's hand.
Go, go, go, he yelled. They're in the basement.
SWAT team members rose from their positions in the woods surrounding Tony's house and moved in. The first group went in the back door and the second through the front. When they experienced no resistance, the first group opened the cellar door. It was pitch black. The first man through the door crouched low and scanned the basement with night vision goggles. He edged down the stairs, weapon at the ready. Two other SWAT team members followed. They fanned out when they were in the basement. There was little to see: a floor-to-ceiling wine rack, the furnace, a water heater, a racing bike.
Lights, the team leader ordered. The men removed their goggles and the man at the top of the stairs flipped the switch.
Where are they? one of the men asked.
There has to be another way out, the team leader said. Find it.
Over here, one of the men yelled. He was kneeling next to a trap door that was flush with the floor. It had been covered with a rug. Three of the men surrounded the door and aimed their assault rifles at it. The fourth man opened the door in one smooth movement while the team leader looked on. There was a narrow depression in the earth no wider or deeper than a coffin. There were blood spots on the dirt. A rank smell issued forth.
The basement is deserted, the team leader reported to the men in the van.
So is the rest of the house, the tech in the van answered. The second team had already briefed him.
We found a hidden trap door covering a coffin-size hole with what appears to be dried blood and excrement in it. He may have been holding people down there.
Keep looking for another way out, McCarthy said. If there's one hidden door, there might be another.
Tony Fiori had met his first victim on the slopes of the Ghost Lake resort. He had taken her to the family cabin, tortured her to death and buried her in the woods. Everything went so smoothly that Tony gave no thought to being caught. Teenagers don't do much planning, anyway. Tony's luck held with his second victim. Then Dominic Fiori walked in on his son in the act of torturing victim number three, and it suddenly occurred to Tony that it would be wise to take precautions.
Tony had enough money from his father's estate and life insurance to secure a private place to conduct his experiments in pain, and he soon developed a foolproof technique for purchasing his research facilities. Then he studied forensic techniques to avoid detection by police specialists. Finally he created an escape plan if the worst- case scenario occurred.
As soon as they were in the basement, Tony placed a hood over Amanda's head, slid the moveable wine rack aside and pushed her into the escape tunnel. A flashlight hung on a hook just inside the door. Beneath it was a backpack with a pistol, cash, a change of clothing, materials for a disguise, a fake passport and other false identification.
Tony barred the entrance to the tunnel from the inside, grabbed the flashlight and located the backpack. The tunnel extended a quarter of a mile under the woods behind his house. Amanda ran stooped over because of the low ceiling. Stones and roots cut her bare feet; her buttocks and the backs of her thighs bled from gashes made by Tony's knife as he jabbed her when she slowed. A half mile from the tunnel exit a car purchased with false ID was
