Page 4

CHAPTER 4

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Wednesday, March 30, 6:30 a.m.

Charlotte stumbled into her kitchen, grateful for programmable coffee machines. It was her favorite blend, guaranteed to wake her up.

She’d slept badly, tossing and turning, startling at every little sound. She’d come out of the restaurant with Tino the night before and had gotten the same weird feeling that she’d had before going in. Like someone was watching her.

Just my imagination.

Unless it wasn’t. It wasn’t paranoia when people really wanted to hurt you.

I should have gone to a hotel like Tino said.

But this apartment was her new home. Even though it didn’t feel like it. Not yet, anyway. She’d been back in Philly for less than six months. She was still unpacking boxes. But she’d get everything unpacked and put away and then it would be home.

A warm body wound around her legs, and she scooped her cat into her arms. “You’re here,” she said to Mrs. Tripplehorn, rubbing her cheek against the cat’s soft fur. “So it’s home.”

She’d fed the cat and poured herself a cup of coffee when she heard voices outside her door. Angry male voices.

And one was familiar.

She checked the peephole and, sure enough, Tino Ciccotelli stood on her doorstep, hands up as if to placate the man shouting at him.

She recognized the man, who lived three doors down. He held a cell phone to his ear, pointing a finger at Tino.

Making sure her robe was firmly tied, she opened the door. “Good morning,” she said, raising her voice to be heard. “What seems to be the problem?”

Both men turned to look at her. “He was sleeping on the damn floor!” her neighbor shouted.

She stared at Tino. Sleeping on the floor? Why?

Oh. She’d thought he’d accepted her decision not to go to a hotel way too easily. She’d been right.

More neighbors had started peeking into the hallway and Charlotte needed to shut this confrontation down. Now.

“Tino, did you forget your key again ?” she asked, grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket and yanking him into her apartment. “I’m so sorry,” she said to the neighbor. “It won’t happen again.”

Because I’m going to read Tino Ciccotelli the riot act.

“This is a respectable building,” the man said. “We do not allow homeless people to set up camp.”

Charlotte frowned. “He’s not homeless.” She held out her mug of coffee. “Have you been caffeinated today, sir? Feel free to take my coffee if you need it.”

Several neighbors laughed and the man’s expression became thunderous. “Watch your step, missy,” he snarled. “The condo board can take legal recourse against you.”

What an asshole.

Tino opened his mouth to speak, but she yanked him farther into her apartment. “No,” she hissed to him, and he wisely closed his mouth. “Sir,” she said to her neighbor, “are you threatening me? Please consider your answer carefully. At least one of our neighbors is recording this on her phone. I don’t think you want to go viral on the internet. This can be over right now. I apologized. I said it wouldn’t happen again. Let it go.”

The man scowled. “Trashy bitches,” he muttered as he turned on his heel and stomped back to his apartment, scowling at the young woman who was openly recording the entire exchange. “Delete that.”

“Oh, I will,” the woman said sweetly, rolling her eyes as soon as he’d slammed his apartment door. “Oh, I won’t,” she called to Charlotte. “I’ll hold on to it. If you want me to send the video to you, just let me know.” She waved merrily, going back into her apartment.

“We’re not all assholes,” another woman said. “He’s been a grouch from day one. Just ignore him.”

Another woman smiled at Tino. “Next time you forget your key, knock on my door, honey. I’ll let you in.”

The other neighbors groaned good-naturedly and returned to their apartments.

Charlotte closed her door and leaned against it, cradling her mug in her hands, half tempted to toss it at Tino for causing such a fuss.

“Did you sleep on my doormat?”

“I did. It’s scratchy.”

“I have several. The cat likes to sharpen her claws on them.”

Tino’s lips twitched. “Is that a threat?” He looked down and his lips curved into a full smile. “Oh, aren’t you pretty?”

“Don’t try to pick her up,” Charlotte said. “She doesn’t like strangers.”

But he’d already picked the cat up and was giving her head scritches. “Yes, you are a pretty girl. Listen to you purr. Like a motorboat. And your mom says you don’t like strangers. Silly Mom. What’s your name?”

Of course her cat had fallen prey to Tino’s charm. “She’s Mrs. Tripplehorn. She had that name when I got her. You want some coffee?”

“Yes. Please yes.”

Sighing, she filled a mug for him and started another pot. She allowed herself two cups in the morning, and she wasn’t giving up her second cup for anyone. Not even the man who’d slept on her doorstep.

Which should be making her so angry.

But it really wasn’t.

It was Tino. Taking care of me. Affection warmed her from the inside out.

“How did you get back into the building? I watched you get into the elevator last night.”

He gave Mrs. Tripplehorn another stroke before setting her on the floor. “I got to the lobby and the security guard was snoring. I figured you had shit security, so I came back up. Nobody even noticed me until Mr. Congeniality came out this morning and started screaming at me.”

“That’s not good,” she said. “I’ll report it. Just...don’t do that again, okay?”

“I was worried,” he said, suddenly more serious than she’d ever seen him. “You thought someone was watching you, before and after dinner. What if you were right? If you’re not going to listen to your gut, I will.”

She wanted to kiss his cheek but patted it instead, his stubble scratchy against her palm. She wondered how it would feel against her face if she kissed him full on the mouth. Which she really wanted to do, but she pushed the desire down.

That ship’s sailed. He’s only your friend.

“Thank you,” she said. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“I’m not promising anything.”

Because he wasn’t the kind of man to lie. It was one of the things she’d loved about him back in the day.

“Well, at least I can make you some breakfast. Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at her, and her heart fluttered in her chest. He was unfairly beautiful, even after having slept on her doorstep all night.

She began gathering ingredients. “French toast and bacon?”

The groan he made was utterly sinful and had her thinking once again about all the things she should not be thinking about.

Which was the other reason she’d tossed and turned. Every time she managed to doze, she’d dreamed of Tino, waking up hot and bothered.

Lonely and needy.

“Yes, please,” he said. “Bacon makes everything better.”

“It does. What did you tell the neighbor before I opened the door?”

He grinned. “That I forgot my key.”

They’d always been in sync. She’d forgotten that. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You’re not the first to say so, and I doubt you’ll be the last.”

She laughed. “You’re such a bad boy.” Then she winced. “And I’m bad, too. I haven’t called the hospital to check on Dottie yet. My brain cells don’t wake up until my second cup of coffee.”

“She’s fine,” Tino said. “I called this morning before the Good Humor Man started yelling at me. She had a good night and her vitals are stronger this morning. Breathing is better. They think the antibiotic is fighting her respiratory infection.”

Charlotte exhaled, relieved. “Good. Maybe they’ll move her to a regular room soon.” She finished making breakfast and set it in front of Tino with a flourish.

He dove in, inhaling the entire platter of French toast.

His obvious delight made her smile. “I like cooking for people who like my food.”

“Then you should love cooking for me, because this is amazing.” He cleaned his plate and sat back with a satisfied expression. “You made me French toast once.”

She startled, then remembered. “Oh right.” She grimaced. “I’d kind of blocked that out.”

He chuckled. “I blocked out what happened after your parents came home unexpectedly early from their trip and found us eating French toast in our underwear.”

“At least we were wearing that much,” she said dryly.

“You were afraid to cook bacon in the nude. Said it would pop and burn you.”

It had been the first time he’d stayed over. The night she’d lost her virginity. He’d been so sweet. Bumbling, but sweet. It had been the first time for both of them.

“You always took such good care of me,” she murmured.

He sobered. “Then why were you so anxious to leave? Why didn’t you want to stay?”

She opened her mouth, but no explanation came forth. And then she was rescued by the ringing of her doorbell.

“Excuse me,” she said, placing her napkin on the table and heading for the front door. “I hope it’s not that neighbor.”

“If it is, we’ll call the cops,” Tino said, right behind her.

Because of course he’d follow her to the door.

Keeping me safe.

It was hard to be angry with him about that.

A glance through the peephole had her relaxing. “Just a kid I know.” She opened the door, smiling at the thirteen-year-old girl who held a large shopping bag. “Kayla, honey, I didn’t expect you so early. You want to come in?”

Kayla nodded. “If it’s okay. I wanted to bring your bowls back before I went to school.” She held out the bag. “I washed them myself, so they’re all clean. Thank you so much. My mom says you’re the best cook.”

Charlotte ran her hand over the girl’s hair. “You are so welcome. If you come by tomorrow, I’ll have more food made up.” She looked over at Tino, who was watching with interest. “Tino, this is Kayla Lewis. Her parents run the corner store. Her dad was shot recently. Her mom has been so busy taking care of the family and the store that she doesn’t have time to cook. Kayla, this is my friend Tino.”

Kayla looked up at Tino, her smile strained. “Hi.”

“Kayla,” Tino said warmly. “I’m so sorry about your father.”

“He’ll be okay,” Kayla said, her voice shaky, because it had been a close call. “We’re the lucky ones.”

“There’s been a rash of robberies on the street,” Charlotte explained. “A man shot three store owners in one night. Kayla’s dad was the only one who made it.”

“He’s still in the hospital,” Kayla said, her eyes filling with tears. “He hasn’t woken up yet, but the doctors say that he will. It’s an induced coma, so that he can heal.”

“Wow, that’s a lot for your family to go through,” Tino said. “I’m so sorry.”

Kayla nodded. “Thank you.” She drew a breath and faced Charlotte. “I was wondering if you’d show me how to cook. You can’t help us forever, and my mom is so stressed out. She cries all the time and...” She blinked, her own tears spilling down her cheeks. “I have to do something . I take care of my little brother and sister, but I have to do more.”

“I absolutely will,” Charlotte promised. “We’ll start simple, and I’ll show you how to make meals that will be nutritious and yummy. I’ll call your mom and set up the times for you to come over. Okay?”

Kayla wiped at her eyes. “Thank you. You’ve been so nice to us. To the other families, too.” She looked at Tino. “Charlotte cooks for all of us, all three of our families. One lost their grandma. She ran the dry cleaners. The other lost their grandpa. He owned the pizza place. He was closing up when the man came in with a gun. It’s been bad.”

Tino slowly blew out a breath. “I read about the violence. I didn’t realize it was this neighborhood. I’m glad Charlotte is helping you.”

Kayla’s smile was wobbly. “Me too. I have to go to school now. Can I come over tonight?”

“Of course. I’ll clear it with your mom.”

Kayla threw her arms around Charlotte, her tears becoming sobs. Charlotte hugged her back, letting the girl hold on as long as she needed to, stroking her hair and saying nothing at all.

Words didn’t really help. She’d learned that after the car accident all those years ago and again after the attack. Actions were important.

Actions like sleeping on a person’s doorstep to keep them safe.

She gave Tino a helpless look. He returned it, fetching a box of tissues from the coffee table. He pushed a handful of tissues into Kayla’s hand, and the girl wiped at her face before stepping away.

“I’m sorry,” Kayla said, embarrassed.

“You hush right now,” Charlotte said. “You’re fine, and any time you want to cry, you come on up. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kayla sniffled. “I’ll see you later. Nice to meet you, Tino.”

“Same,” Tino said and walked her to the door. “Are you going to be safe going to school?”

“Yes. My cousin is waiting for me in the lobby. He drove my mom to the store this morning and he’ll take me to school. I have to go or I’ll make him late.”

Tino closed the door, his expression hard to read.

“Tino?” Charlotte prompted.

“Were you a customer of all the places that the gunman hit?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because I don’t like coincidences. How do you pay when you go to these places?”

“Cash.” Because a credit card left a paper trail, and she was terrified to let that happen again. “Why?”

“Did any of the places have your address?”

“Both the pizza and the dry-cleaning place do because they deliver. Tino, you’re scaring me.”

There was an intensity to his gaze that had her shivering, and not in a good way.

“You’re a common denominator, Charlotte. I don’t like that. I’m going to let Nick Lawrence know. It might be nothing, but I want someone checking into it.”

“Okay.” Charlotte’s stomach was clenching and she needed to be alone for a few minutes. “I’m going to get dressed.”

Tino nodded as he made his call. “Nick, it’s Tino.”

She closed the door to her bedroom, muting his voice, and sat on the edge of her bed. It couldn’t be connected. That was simply ridiculous.

She looked up at the knock on the door, startled. She hadn’t gotten dressed. She hadn’t even moved from where she sat on the bed and ten minutes had passed.

“Tino?”

“Yeah, can I come in?”

He sounded...upset. She wanted to tell him no, to go away, that she didn’t want any more bad news. But that would be foolish, and Charlotte prided herself on not being foolish.

“Yes.”

He entered, stopping a foot inside the door. “I remember that quilt.”

She ran her hand over the old fabric. “My grandmother made it for me.”

“It was on your bed when you lived at home.”

“One of the only things I took with me. Tino, what did Lieutenant Lawrence say?”

“First, he hadn’t put together that the murders happened on your street. The case is being handled by my brother Vito’s department. Nick’s going to see if your aunt’s case connects.”

“Okay. What’s the second thing?”

“He got a call from the prison in Memphis this morning. The man who attacked you is dead. He was stabbed in the prison exercise yard two weeks ago. No one is sure who did it. It’s still under investigation.”

Charlotte’s mouth fell open. “Why didn’t they tell me?”

“I don’t know why someone in Memphis didn’t call. Nick was going to call you after eight to tell you. He didn’t want to wake you up.”

“What am I supposed to do next?”

“We’re going to see Vito. I called him after I was done talking to Nick. My sister-in-law is pregnant, and yesterday her doctor put her on bed rest. Vito took today off, so we’re going to his house. I want his opinion on all this.”

Charlotte nodded numbly. “Okay.”

* * *

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Wednesday, March 30, 8:15 a.m.

Tino brought his car to a stop in front of Vito’s house, then turned to face Charlotte, who’d been silent throughout the entire drive.

“Vito...” Tino sighed. “He was the one I talked to when you left. He was the one who got my life moving forward again.”

Charlotte still stared straight ahead. “He’s still angry with me.”

“A little.” He winced. “Maybe a lot. But he’s a good guy. A great cop. He’ll do his job. He’ll find out who killed the two shop owners on your street, put a third in critical condition, and potentially beat your aunt and left her for dead.”

“ If they’re connected.”

“If,” Tino allowed. But it was possible. They at least had to check it out.

“Then let’s get this over with so your sister-in-law can rest.”

“That’s going to be a challenge. Her resting, I mean. Sophie’s like the Energizer Bunny, always doing something. She makes me tired just watching her.” He got out of the car and went around to open her door, his heartbeat accelerating when she took the hand he offered.

It’s what friends do , he reminded himself. Friends.

She squared her shoulders and started walking. “Time to face the music.”

“Charlotte.” He tugged on her hand until she looked up at him. “You’re not on trial here. If he brings up the past, I’ll shut him down. You’re here to offer him information about the shop owners who were targeted. He’ll want to know your routine, any messages you’ve received, anything that might help him connect these cases, if there is a connection. But you’re not here to answer for the choices you made twenty-four years ago. Okay?”

Her smile was wobbly. “I believe you. Not sure about Vito’s reception, though. He let me know in no uncertain terms what he thought of me back then. If he’s still harboring even a fraction of his anger, it’s still going to be uncomfortable.”

Tino frowned. “He talked to you then?”

“Yes. Came to my house.” She looked away. “Yelled a lot. Wanted to know if I’d been cheating on you. If I had someone else waiting. I didn’t. I don’t think he believed me, but that’s the truth, Tino.”

“I believe you, and for now, that’s all that matters.” He led her to the house that had belonged to Sophie’s grandmother. She’d left it to Sophie when she died, and Sophie and Vito had made it a real home.

Tino wasn’t jealous.

Okay, maybe a little jealous. But it wasn’t like he didn’t want Vito to have this. He just wanted the same for himself.

He loved his brother. He really did. But if Vito hurt Charlotte’s feelings today, or made her feel even a little bad, Tino was going to have words with him.

And that Vito had gone to Charlotte’s house back then? That he’d accused her? Tino couldn’t think about that right now. He might say something to Vito that he couldn’t take back. He’d process later, then figure out what, if anything, he needed to address.

It had been twenty-four years. If Vito backed off his attitude toward Charlotte, Tino could let Vito’s interference go, too.

He’d lifted his fist to knock when Vito opened the door, his brother’s eyes shadowed and worried.

Because Sophie was on bed rest. Tino wanted to kick himself for forgetting about that for even a moment.

“How’s Sophie?” he asked.

“She’s fine!” Sophie called from the living room. “Come in.”

Vito held the door open wider so they could enter. “What she said.” He closed the door, letting his gaze drop to the hand Tino pressed at the small of Charlotte’s back before meeting her gaze squarely. “Welcome to our home, Charlotte.”

Charlotte blinked, startled. “Um...thank you.”

Tino lifted his brows in question, and Vito shrugged. “Sophie threatened to kick my ass if I didn’t let old grudges go. So they’re gone. Come into the living room and make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

Tino wanted to laugh. Sophie must have really gotten serious about kicking Vito’s ass. He was being super polite.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Charlotte followed Vito into the living room where Sophie lay on the sofa, a pile of pillows at her back.

She looked pale, with dark circles under her eyes. Tino felt a shaft of fear pierce his heart. “Soph.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. Blood pressure’s a little high.”

Vito huffed. “Preeclampsia. Mild, which is the only reason she’s here and not in the hospital.”

“I’m at thirty-six weeks. If they can get me to thirty-seven or thirty-eight, all will be well. I’m being a good girl.” She looked around Tino to Charlotte, who’d hung back. “Please come closer, Charlotte. I’ve wanted to meet you since Tino said you’d come back to Philly.”

Tino remembered his manners. “Charlotte, this is my sister-in-law, Sophie. Sophie, this is Charlotte Walsh.”

Charlotte approached, her trepidation clear. “I’m so sorry to be disturbing you.”

Sophie smiled. “You’re not. Sit, please. All of you. I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.”

Tino gestured to a loveseat and Charlotte joined him there. “What do you know about the crimes on Charlotte’s street, Vito?” he asked, getting down to business. This wasn’t a social call. Not with Charlotte so tense and Sophie needing her rest.

“Not much,” Vito admitted. “The killer of the shop owners used a gun with a silencer, and Mrs. Johnson’s attacker didn’t. We never considered that the cases could be connected. I’m still far from convinced that they are, but we need to at least explore the possibility.”

“Especially since we have a sketch of Mrs. J’s attacker,” Tino said. “I sent it to Nick last night.”

Vito nodded. “He sent it to me while you were driving over. Mrs. Johnson’s sketch and the one you did based on the neighbor’s eyewitness account. You didn’t recognize him, Charlotte?”

Charlotte shook her head. “I didn’t. I mean... To be honest, I was just concerned with whether or not he was the same man who attacked me. I can look again.”

“Not right now,” Vito said. “Tell me about your relationships with the victims on your street.”

“Well, there’s Mr. Lewis who runs the convenience store. He’s the one who’s in critical condition.” She grimaced. “But you know that already. Sorry.”

“Charlotte,” Sophie said quietly. “Breathe. We’re here to help you and nothing more. If you need to ramble, my husband will deal. He’s used to it, because I ramble when I’m stressed, too.”

Charlotte sucked in a desperate breath and let it out. “Okay. Mr. Lewis isn’t usually on night duty at the store, but he was that night. His regular night clerk was sick. He’s a nice man, and I hate that this happened to him and his family. They’re just trying to make a living. And if this is connected to me...”

“If it is, it’s still not your fault,” Vito said firmly. “It’s the fault of whoever shot him. Did you know him well?”

“Not that well, no. We were acquaintances, mainly. I know his wife better. But I know he likes hockey and football and that he’s so proud of his children. He works hard to give them a good life. He talks about them to whoever will listen.”

“And you listened?” Vito asked.

“I did. I was new in the neighborhood and he made me feel welcome. Told me where to get the best pizza and where to get my dry cleaning done.” She stopped abruptly. “They pushed each other’s businesses. The three of them kept business cards and posted flyers for the others’ stores.”

“Just those three?” Sophie asked. “Or did they push the other businesses on the street, too?”

“Just those three. They were friends. Mr. Lewis in the corner store, Mr. Lombardi who owned the pizza place, and Mrs. Fadil who owned the dry cleaner’s. If I asked about a certain service, like fresh flowers, they’d name a few places, but there was no feeling behind it, no real recommendation.”

“Interesting,” Vito murmured. “Nobody’s brought that up yet.”

“I’m new to the neighborhood,” Charlotte said. “Maybe the people you talked to had been there long enough that they didn’t remember.”

“Possibly. Go back to what you know about the victims, please.”

“Mr. Lombardi’s sons worked for him, all but the youngest. Mr. Lombardi said he was okay with it, that his son was following his dreams, but he was worried about him. The son’s a schoolteacher in one of the more...troubled schools.”

“He was afraid his son would be hurt,” Sophie said.

Charlotte nodded sadly. “Mr. Lombardi was terrified there would be a school shooting. But then he himself got shot.” She dabbed at her wet eyes with a tissue. “Sorry. I really liked him. He was jolly, with a big laugh, and he always had a smile for me. The neighborhood won’t be the same without him.”

“And Mrs. Fadil?” Vito asked.

“She was an American citizen. She was so proud of that. Had a flag on the wall and everything. The first time I took my clothes to her store, she told me that she’d gotten her citizenship fifteen years ago. Told me about building the business with her husband, who died a few years ago. Cancer. She told me about her children and her grandchildren, who all live in or around Philly. She told me about her parents, who still live in Morocco. We talked a lot about cooking. When I told her I knew how to cook with a tagine and owned three of them, she came around the counter and hugged me. Then she gave me her mother’s recipe for kefta. I made it that evening and...” Her voice broke. “I took her some.”

“You knew them all quite well,” Vito said, sounding surprised.

“I just listened. All three of them were friendly and I...I just listened.”

“No ‘just’ about it,” Sophie said. “Not everyone listens.”

Charlotte wiped her eyes. “I guess I was lonely. I came back home, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing was really the same. I think they knew — the three storeowners — that I needed the connection.”

“When did you come back? And why?” Vito asked, but there was no accusation in his tone.

Tino would have put a stop to it if there had been.

“I came back about six months ago. I got out of the hospital in Memphis and I couldn’t sleep in my bed. Literally.” She glanced at Tino. “The man who attacked me had destroyed the mattress and punched holes in the wall.”

“Sonofabitch,” Tino muttered. “I’m sorry.”

Her smile was small but genuine. “Thank you. Me too.” She sighed and turned back to Vito. “I felt terrified to enter my own home, Lieutenant.”

Vito flinched. “You don’t have to call me lieutenant. I’m just Vito. Please.”

She dropped her gaze to the tissue she held in her fisted hand. “Okay. Anyway, I couldn’t go home. I rented a furnished apartment where I could recuperate and figure out my next steps. I realized how alone I was. My ex-husband got our friends in the divorce, and my real name was now associated with my pen name because of the news reports on my attack. There were reporters on my doorstep and letters in my mailbox from angry restaurant owners I’d given bad reviews to in the past. Then there were the emails.” She grimaced. “A lot of people thought I deserved what I’d gotten. Even my ex’s family. It was isolating. I couldn’t breathe. And Aunt Dottie is getting up in years. I decided to come back to Philly and take care of her.”

“And did you?” Vito asked. “Take care of her, I mean.”

Charlotte frowned. “Of course I did. I know you don’t like me, but I’m not a bad person.” She threw a pained glance at Tino. “Not anymore, anyway.”

Vito shook his head, speaking before Tino could say a word. “You misunderstand my question. I meant, were you a constant presence at her house? Was it just taking her out to dinner once a week, or were you there every day?”

“Oh.” Charlotte exhaled, looking both sheepish and relieved. “Not every day, but if I wasn’t in New York or Baltimore doing restaurant reviews, I was at her house. I didn’t realize how lonely she’d become, too. She hid it from me whenever I called her. My uncle is gone and a lot of her oldest friends are, too. So I was there at least four or five times a week. Sometimes we’d go out, sometimes I’d bring a p—” She stopped abruptly, her eyes going wide with horrified realization. “Pizza. I’d bring her pizza from Lombardi’s. If someone was watching me...” She covered her mouth with her hand. “They started killing that night at Lombardi’s. The man started there, then went to Mrs. Fadil’s dry cleaner’s and then to Mr. Lewis’s convenience store.”

Tino hadn’t known the order of the murders, but Charlotte was right. That the owner of the pizza place was first was too much coincidence.

But then Charlotte shook her head. “God. I sound crazy. I’ve been paranoid since my attack. This is not connected to me. It can’t be.”

“I’d completely agree with you,” Vito said, “but it appears that your aunt’s attacker came back to her house. That she’s in the hospital has been on the news. Her attacker knew she wasn’t there. We can’t ignore the possibility that he could have been looking for you.”

Charlotte swallowed hard. “But why?” she asked, her wounded tone hurting Tino’s heart. “I didn’t do anything to anyone. I mind my own business.”

“Except when you’re criticizing people’s restaurants,” Vito said, then held up a hand when Tino opened his mouth to protest the words. “I’m not saying she deserves it, Tino. She most certainly does not deserve it. I’m only saying that her profession has the potential of making her a target.”

It was fair, Tino thought, but he frowned as he nodded.

Vito turned back to Charlotte. “Tino said that your Memphis attacker got your address from the newspaper’s office using your tax information and that you’re still reviewing under your old alias. If your real name and your alias were linked in Memphis, how do you know someone hasn’t tracked you here?”

“I don’t, I suppose,” she murmured. “But I’ve been really careful not to leave a trail for another stalker to follow, either electronic or paper. I’m not writing for a paper anymore, so I’m not on anyone’s payroll. I started a blog and used some of the notoriety I got after the attack as free advertising, to be honest. I gave a few interviews to reporters I trusted. I let people know I was still reviewing, but I’d be a traveling reviewer. I’ve done reviews in restaurants in Atlanta and St. Louis along with the New York and Baltimore restaurants.”

“But if someone still wanted to find you, they could,” Vito said gently. “Do you have an apartment here in the city? There will be rental records or property records. Mortgage information. Lots of ways someone could find you if they really wanted to.”

She shook her head. “I bought my condo with cash and in the name of a corporation I formed so that my name wouldn’t be in the property records. I’ve made it as difficult as I can for someone to find me.”

Vito’s brows lifted. “Cash? In Rittenhouse?”

She lifted her chin. “I got the house and half my ex-husband’s assets in the divorce. Then I sold my house in Memphis, plus I got a settlement from the newspaper in exchange for not suing them for giving out my personal information. I used it to buy the condo. I figured I was paying for security, and that’s more important to me than it used to be.”

“Completely understandable,” Sophie said kindly. “I’d do the same thing.”

Vito nodded, his expression the one that said he was thinking. “Okay, so...let’s assume for a moment that the murders on your street are connected to the assault on your aunt. And that someone saw you bringing pizza from Lombardi’s, which was why they started their murdering rampage at the pizza shop.” He closed his eyes, quiet for a few moments. Then he opened his eyes on a sigh. “Their files were stolen. Lombardi’s and Fadil’s, which makes sense. They do deliveries. They kept addresses of their regulars on file.”

“So a killer might have Charlotte’s address,” Tino said flatly.

“Then why go to her aunt’s house at all?” Sophie asked. “If he had Charlotte’s address, why didn’t he go to her apartment?”

“She has security.” Tino made a face. “Kind of. Not great security at night, but maybe he saw the person at the desk and decided not to chance it.”

Sophie looked skeptical. “Well, why not just wait for her outside her building? And why didn’t he demand to know where Charlotte was when he assaulted her aunt?”

“Good points,” Vito allowed. He picked up his tablet from the coffee table and swiped through several pages. “This is the report on your aunt’s assault. She doesn’t mention that he said anything, but she did say that he searched every room, dragging her along behind him. He even checked the closets and under the beds. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he began to beat her.” He looked up, his expression softening when he saw that Charlotte had paled. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I know this is difficult.”

“He took her phone,” Charlotte said thickly. “He beat her until she told him the password, then beat her some more when he’d searched her phone. But she didn’t have my new address in her contacts. And he wouldn’t have gotten it from either Mr. Lombardi or Mrs. Fadil.”

Tino covered her trembling hand with his. “Why?” he asked gently. “Why didn’t your aunt have your address in her phone?”

Vito put his tablet down, giving her his undivided attention.

She clutched Tino’s hand like a lifeline. “I told Dottie that I’d had some trouble with my ex. That I didn’t want anyone knowing where I lived. To my knowledge, she doesn’t know about last year’s attack. I never told her and she doesn’t go online for news. She knew the divorce had been ugly, so she never asked me any questions, just did what I asked. I’ve brought her to my place a few times. Made supper for her. But ninety-five percent of the time I go to her house because it’s hard for her to get in and out of a car.”

“And Mr. Lombardi and Mrs. Fadil?” Tino asked. “Why didn’t they have your address if they delivered to you?”

“They did, but not under my name. I told them the same thing, that I’d had trouble with my ex and didn’t want to be tracked. Whenever I’d place an order, they’d use ‘Jane Smith’ and I’d pay with cash. They were so kind to me. They can’t have been killed because of me.” Her voice cracked. “They can’t.”

“This is not your fault,” Tino whispered fiercely.

“He’s right,” Vito said. “Not your fault at all. So, once again, if we assume that these cases are connected and that he made the connection to Lombardi’s because you brought pizza to your aunt, that means that he was watching your aunt’s house. How did he make the connection between you and your aunt?”

“I don’t know,” Charlotte said helplessly. “We don’t have the same last name, and I didn’t tell anyone where I was moving when I left Memphis.”

“Your moving company would have known,” Sophie said.

“No, because I moved myself. I only brought a few things with me. Just boxes of documents and records. A few photos. I drove from Memphis to Philly by way of Atlanta. I took the long way, reviewing restaurants along the way.”

“And the man who attacked you in Memphis?” Sophie asked. “Are you sure he’s still in prison?”

“He’s dead,” Vito said.

Sophie frowned. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Vito frowned back. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“He was killed in the exercise yard in the prison two weeks ago,” Tino said. “Nick Lawrence is waiting for more information. The prison is investigating.”

“So this is someone new. Seems like the options are—” Sophie held up her fingers as she counted. “One—another restaurant owner got angry and managed to find out where you moved to, but that still leaves the question of how they connected your aunt to you. Two—could your ex be retaliating for any reason? Or three—this new guy is completely random and unrelated to your job or past.”

Charlotte shook her head. “It’s not my ex. He just wanted me out of his life, and we didn’t have contact after the divorce, not until I was in the hospital. He came to see me, brought me flowers, then told me that he’d told me so, that my reviews would end up getting me in trouble. That I should have listened to him.”

“What a dick,” Sophie muttered.

Charlotte laughed, a slightly hysterical sound. “He is. I don’t think another restaurant owner would be mad at me, at least not based on my recent reviews. I’ve made sure they were all positive. If a review was too scathing, I set the review aside in a special folder. I’m...” She sighed. “I’m too afraid to publish anything negative right now. Maybe forever. Which means I probably won’t be successful when people get tired of A-plus reviews.”

“I’m sorry,” Sophie said softly. “I hate that some asshole has made you afraid.”

Charlotte managed a small smile. “Thank you.” She turned to Vito. “So what’s next?”

“We canvass your street again, take another look at security cameras. Dig deeper. Someone had to have seen something. As for you, be careful. If someone wants to follow you, they might guess that you’ll be at the hospital. They could wait for you there.”

Tino’s gut churned. That someone could even have followed Charlotte last night... He was so glad he’d slept on her doorstep. He stood and went to give Sophie a kiss on the cheek. “You keep being a good girl. My new nephew needs to cook a little more.”

Sophie smiled at him. “I will.” She glanced at Charlotte, then whispered. “Keep her safe?”

“I will,” he whispered back.

He waited until he and Charlotte were back in his car before turning to her. “I don’t want you to stay in your apartment. Not alone.”

She looked out the window. “Are you offering to stay with me?”

“No, I’m asking you to come and stay with me.”

She shook her head. “You’re all the way out in Mount Airy. I need to be closer to the hospital in case Dottie needs me.” She bit at her lip. “I don’t want to be stupid, Tino. I’ll get a hotel room close to the hospital. I’ll get one with good security. You don’t have to feel responsible for me.”

“I don’t feel responsible for you.” Which was a total lie. “Dammit, Charlotte, you need to lie low for a while. Let me help you. Pick a hotel, and I’ll take you to your place to pack a bag. I can get a cot brought in or something. But I don’t want you to be alone.”

She was quiet for a long moment, then surprised him by nodding. “All right. Thank you. I don’t want me to be alone, either.”

He reached over and gripped her chin lightly, tugging until she faced him. She was crying again, and it made his own eyes sting. “Friends don’t let friends be alone.”