Last to Die

Killing is easy. All you need is access and the proper tool, whether it’s a bullet, a blade, or Semtex. And if you plan it right, no cleanup is necessary. But extracting a man like Icarus, who’s alive and resisting you, a man who surrounds himself with family and bodyguards, is a far more delicate process.

Which is why we devoted most of that June to surveillance and reconnaissance and dry runs. The hours were long, seven days a week, but no one complained. Why would we? Our hotel was comfortable, our expenses covered. And at the end of the day, there was always plenty of alcohol. Not mere plonk, but good Italian wines. For what we were required to do, we believed we deserved the best.

It was a Thursday when we got the call from our local asset. He worked as a waiter inside the restaurant La Nonna, and that night two adjacent tables had been reserved for dinner. One table was for a party of four, the other for a party of two. Bottles of Brunello di Montalcino had been requested, to be opened immediately for proper airing upon the patrons’ arrival. He had no doubt for whom those tables were reserved.

They arrived in separate vehicles, one right behind the other. In the black BMW were the two bodyguards. In the silver Volvo, Icarus was at the wheel. It was one of his quirks: He always insisted on being his own driver, on being in control. Both cars parked directly across the street from La Nonna, where they would be in view throughout the meal. I was already in position, seated at an outdoor cafe nearby, sipping espresso. From there I had a front-row view of the precision ballet that was about to unfold.

I saw the bodyguards get out of their BMW first, and they watched as Icarus emerged from his Volvo. He always drove a Volvo, an unexciting choice for a man who could afford a fleet of Maseratis. He opened the rear door, and out climbed one of the reasons for choosing such a safe vehicle. Little Carlo, the younger son, was eight years old, with large dark eyes and unruly hair like his mother’s. The boy’s shoelace had come loose, and Icarus bent down to tie it.

That was the moment Carlo noticed me, sitting nearby. His eyes fixed on mine so intently that I felt a dart of panic. I thought: The boy knows. Somehow he knows what’s about to happen. I did not have children; no one on our team did, so children were a mystery to us. They were like little aliens, unformed creatures who could be ignored. But Carlo’s eyes were luminous and wise, and I felt stripped of all pretense, unable to justify what we were about to do to his father.

Then Icarus stood up. He took Carlo’s hand and led his wife and older son across the street, into La Nonna for their supper.

I breathed again.

Our team moved into action.

A young woman approached, pushing a baby carriage, her infant hidden under layers of swaddling. The baby gave a sudden wail; the woman stopped to fuss over him. I was the only one close enough to see her slash the tire of the bodyguards’ vehicle. Her infant fell silent, and the woman continued up the sidewalk.

At that moment, inside La Nonna, wine was being poured, two little boys twirled spaghetti, and platters of veal and lamb and pork emerged from the kitchen.

Outside, on the street, the jaws of a trap were about to close. Everything was proceeding as planned.

But I could not shake off the image of little Carlo’s face, staring at me. A look that reached into my chest and clawed at my heart. When you feel a premonition as powerful as that, it should never be ignored.

I am sorry that I did.

SEVEN

 

MAURA DROVE WITH HER WINDOWS OPEN AND THE SMELL OF SUMMER blowing into the car. Hours ago she had left the Maine coast behind and headed northwest, into gently rolling hills where the afternoon sun leafed hay fields in gold. Then the forest closed in, the trees suddenly so dense that it seemed night had instantly fallen. She drove for miles without passing any cars, and wondered if she’d taken a wrong turn. Here there were no houses, no driveways, not a single road sign to tell her whether she was headed in the right direction.

She was ready to turn around when the road suddenly ended at a gate. On the archway above it was a single word, spelled in gracefully entwined letters: EVENSONG.

She stepped out of her Lexus and frowned at the locked gate, which was flanked by massive stone pillars. She saw no intercom button, and the wrought-iron fence extended deep into the woods in both directions, as far as she could see. She pulled out her cell phone to call the school, but this deep in the forest she couldn’t get a signal. The silence of the woods magnified the ominous whine of a mosquito, and she slapped at the sudden sting on her cheek. Stared down at the alarming smear of blood. Other mosquitoes were closing in on her in a hungry, biting cloud. She was about to retreat into her car when she spotted the golf cart approaching on the other side of the gate.

A familiar young woman stepped out of the golf cart and waved. In her early thirties, dressed in slim blue jeans and a green windbreaker, Lily Saul looked far healthier and happier than the last time Maura had seen her. Lily’s brown hair, pulled back in a loose ponytail, was now streaked with blond, and her cheeks had a healthy glow, so different from the pale, thin face that Maura remembered from that blood-splattered Christmas when they’d met during the course of a homicide investigation. Its violent conclusion had nearly claimed both their lives. But Lily Saul, who’d spent years running from demons both real and imagined, was a canny survivor, and judging by her happy smile Lily had finally outrun her nightmares.

“We expected you here earlier, Dr. Isles,” said Lily. “I’m glad you made it before dark.”

“I was afraid I’d have to climb this fence,” said Maura. “There’s no cell signal out here, and I couldn’t call anyone.”

“Oh, we knew you’d arrived.” Lily punched in a code on the gate’s security keypad. “There are motion sensors all along this road. And you probably missed them, but there are cameras as well.”

“That’s a lot of security for a school.”

“It’s all about keeping our students safe. And you know how Anthony is about security. There’s never enough.” She met Maura’s gaze through the bars. “It’s not surprising he feels that way. When you consider what we’ve all been through.”

Staring into Lily’s eyes, Maura realized the young woman’s nightmares had not entirely been laid to rest. The shadows still lingered.

“It’s been nearly two years, Lily. Has anything else happened?”

Lily pulled open the gate and said, ominously, “Not yet.”

That was just the sort of statement that Anthony Sansone would make. Crime left permanent scars on survivors like Sansone and Lily, both of them haunted by violent personal tragedies. For them, the world would always be a landscape riddled with danger.

“Follow me,” said Lily as she climbed back into the golf cart. “The castle’s another few miles up the road.”

“Don’t you need to close the gate?”

“It will close automatically. If you need to leave, the keypad code this week is forty-five ninety-six, for both the gate and the school’s front door. The number changes every Monday, when we announce it at breakfast.”

“So the students know it, too.”

“Of course. The gate isn’t here to keep us in, Dr. Isles. It’s to keep the world out.”

Maura climbed back into the Lexus, and as she drove past the twin pillars, the gate was already starting to swing shut. Despite Lily’s assurance that the gate wasn’t meant to lock her in, the wrought-iron bars made her think of a high-security prison. It brought back the sound of clanging metal and the sight of caged faces staring at her.

Lily’s golf cart led her down a single-lane road carved through dense woods. In the gloom of those trees, a shockingly brilliant orange fungus stood out, clinging to the trunk of a venerable oak. High in the forest canopy, birds