Vitucci sighed. “I needed the computer he’d logged in on, and so I paid him a visit. Afterward, I couldn’t risk that Dow would give my name to the police or perhaps go to them to confess what he’d done. I killed him, yes, but the organization would have done much, much worse. You two don’t have to imagine the ways in which they might have exacted revenge once they located the man who hacked their elaborate game.”
A chill went down Noelle’s spine. No, she didn’t have to imagine. But she also didn’t want to think that this man had done Dow a favor by swiftly taking his life.
“When your father had a heart attack, I went to his home and took his laptop and the photos. And when I understood exactly what the situation was, I paid a visit to the man who would be the sponsor I needed to play—Fontane. They don’t just let any old chump join in, after all.” He smiled, and it appeared as serene as his other smiles.
“A sponsor?” Evan asked. “My father? But why? He vouched for you because you had evidence against him?”
“No. He vouched for me because I’d done him a favor in the past and I had an in with the Reno PD and plenty of access. I’d hidden evidence in the case against Noelle’s father. I’d let him pay me off.”
“What?” Noelle breathed. “I thought you were helping my father. Why? Why would you hide evidence for . . . Fontane?”
“I was helping myself, Noelle.”
“But . . . if you had evidence against him, you could have used it to have him arrested.”
“I could have, but exposing Fontane would have meant exposing myself. And I had a bigger goal in mind.”
She thought she might scream. A game. It was all a game, and he was playing a different one, but he was playing one nonetheless.
“I explained to Fontane how I’d come upon the information about the game in a session with Mr. Meyer,” Vitucci went on. “I told him I’d not only take a payout as I’d done before but that I’d like to play. It had appealed to me. By that time, Dow and Mr. Meyer were both dead anyway. All cleaned up. Or so they thought. And so it came to be that I was there to help you both free yourselves, just another compromised player in their vast web.”
Evan raked a hand through his hair. “How do we find these fucking monsters?” he asked. “All of them. I have friends on the police force—”
“I do as well, Evan. Didn’t you hear me? I’m your friend on the police force. And yet, I’ve done so many favors over the years to prove my false loyalty. I’ve made files disappear, hid evidence. All toward an ultimate end, but even so.” He shrugged. “If I have trust issues as far as the authorities are concerned, you’ll kindly understand why.” The professor glanced at his watch one more time and then signaled to a remote sitting on his desk. “If you could do me one final favor, Evan.”
Again, Evan hesitated, but then rose, walking to the desk and leaning in. He picked up the remote. “There,” Vitucci said, pressing some buttons on the open laptop sitting on the side of his desk and then nodding to a television screen on the opposite wall from where they sat. “Turn it on, please.”
Evan looked at Noelle. She imagined her eyes were as wide and shocked as his. He gave her the slightest of nods, and her breath released. They were together. They could handle anything. Partners.
Evan pointed the remote at the TV and pressed the On button, and the screen blinked to life. For a beat, Noelle didn’t comprehend what she was looking at. She leaned closer as Evan swore under his breath. Both of them stood, walking together toward the screen until they were directly in front of it, as though it beckoned in some silent way. It was a room. And in it were two cages, one containing a young boy, and the other an older man. Noelle stared, her mouth falling open, a wail rising in her throat as she tried desperately to swallow it down.
“An orphaned pickpocket, living off his will alone in a town run by criminals,” Vitucci said. Her eyes moved to the young, skinny boy. He was just a kid. A sob choked her, and she let out a stuttered breath. “And an ex–border guard who ignored the pleas of the woman he fell in love with in that sad, poverty-stricken town, who asked him to bring her across the border. He followed the law back then, and so she took matters into her own hands and was killed when she attempted to cross with their daughter. He blames himself. He tries to make amends by living solely outside the law now and drinking himself to death. For her.” Noelle looked at the older man, who was wrapping a piece of fabric around his bloody wrist. He had no hand. Oh God.