He jerked the truck to a stop in front of her store, deciding to make the rounds of all the shops. He got lucky on his eighth stop, at the Bakitchen lunch counter. Myra, the proprietor, gave him a smile.

“Hi, Jack. Coffee?”

“Not now. Quick question, Myra. Do you know where Vivi D’Onofrio is staying?”

“Thought she was staying with you, honey. Had a fight?”

Jack clenched his jaw. The older woman crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, she was in here yesterday morning,” Myra conceded. “Asking about an inexpensive place that would let her keep her dog. The only thing I could think of off the top of my head was Evergreen Acres, but it’s such a dive. It should be condemned. Hope she didn’t go there.”

He tensed. Evergreen Acres? He hadn’t even checked there, it was so unthinkable to him that Vivi be in a place like that. The Acres was an end-of-the-line place, frequented by bums, drunks, addicts, down-and-outs, prostitutes and their clients. Visited often by police cars in the middle of the night. Jesus. Of all places.

“Love problems. That would explain why she looked like she was coming down with the flu,” Myra said knowingly. “Come to think of it, you don’t look so hot yourself. Hope you work it out.”

He barely heard her words. “Later, Myra.” He turned for the door.

“Nice girl, Vivi. Sweet little shop she’s got. Sure is popular today. You’re the second one come in asking for her in the last two hours.”

He spun on his heels. “Who? Who was looking for her?”

Myra smiled, archly. “A man. Not surprising. She’s a hottie. If you’re not careful, some other guy’s going to snatch her right up and—”

“What guy?!” he bellowed. “What does he look like?”

Myra looked affronted. “Do not yell at me, Jack Kendrick!”

His teeth ground. “Sorry. Please. It’s important.”

Myra grunted. “Well, he was no good-looker, I’ll tell you that much,” she said. “Big, heavy guy with squinchy little eyes. He said he’d heard she was opening a shop, and would I tell him where it was.”

“And did you?”

“Of course I told him! She can’t afford to lose any business. She’s just starting out.”

Panic swept up, threatening to engulf him. “Myra, do something for me.” He struggled to control the shake in his voice. “Call the cops. Send them down to Evergreen Acres.” He bolted out the door.

“But why?” Myra shouted after him. “What do I tell them?”

He leaped into the truck, started the engine. “Whatever the fuck you want!” he yelled back. “Just tell them quick!”

His truck surged forward with a roar. The urgency inside him was building so fast, he felt like his chest was going to explode.

Vivi felt strangely calm. Numb, even.

Finally, the other shoe had dropped. There was a sense of colossal inevitability to it all. Like continental drift, this moment had been coming her way all her life. All the anxious scrambling and scurrying in the world could not have stopped it.

“I was wondering when you two gentlemen were going to pay me a visit,” she said. “I was starting to feel left out.”

She was proud of how her voice did not shake. Not yet, at least.

Edna was growling, fangs bared, head down. What a strange spectacle. Vivi had never seen her bouncy retriever in defensive mode.

“Take the animal. Put it in the bathroom,” said the old guy with the accent. Ulf Haupt, she presumed. Just as Nell had described him.

She hesitated, and the other, younger guy pointed his gun at Edna. “Now,” he snarled. “Or I shoot it.”

That broke Vivi’s paralysis. She gripped Edna’s collar and dragged the growling, barking dog toward the tiny bathroom in the corner.

She closed the door. Edna whined and pawed at the door.

“Come back to the center of the room,” Haupt ordered.

Vivi did as she was told. “How did you find me?” she asked.

“With difficulty. But we prevailed at last.” John gave her a wide, manic grin. “We found the shop through your old boyfriend, Wilder.”

“Brian?” She was astonished. “But how did Brian—”

“Your friend, Siebling,” John taunted. “He went to Wilder’s gallery. Told him all about this big, randy stud who’s been servicing you. That you were all pink and juicy, getting it left, right, and sideways ten times a day, huh? Filthy slut. Dirty little cocksucking whore—”

“Enough!” Haupt’s voice was shrill. “Do not get distracted. Please excuse him, my dear. John is a bit single-minded when he gets worked up. I have to constantly remind him, work before play, no? Vivien, your cell phone is in your purse? Give it to John.”

She picked up her purse from where it had fallen and passed it over. She’d turned the thing off the previous day, not wanting to deal with any calls from her sisters. She was too raw to face even them.

John cracked open the shell and ripped the various components apart. He dropped the pieces, and crushed them beneath his boot heel.

“Rafael?” she whispered. “You hurt Rafael?”

“We have someone on it,” John told her. “We’ve hired an army for the endgame. Men are waiting in his condo. I can arrange for them to film the event. Popcorn, beer, arterial gouts, and detached body parts.”

She fought a wave of faintness.

“Wilder’s dead, too” he went on. “You should’ve seen him when I was through. A work of art, quite literally. I took pictures. Want to see?”

John held out the cell. She flinched away in revulsion.

“Focus, John,” Haupt reminded him sternly. The old man stumped heavily over to her, his watery, pink-rimmed eyes shiny with mad cheerfulness. “I think she’s my favorite of the sisters.”

“Her tits are too small, but other than that, yeah.” John licked his lips, his eyes hot. “I like the ones who spit and squirm.”

“I am seldom tempted at my age,” the shambling old horror whispered. He lifted the silenced barrel of his pistol, petted Vivi’s cheek with it. “But you inspire me. Perhaps I will indulge, as well. In my own special way.” He used the silencer to tug down the neckline of Vivi’s shirt, revealing the tattoo. “How pretty,” he commented. “A buttercup.”

“No, actually.” She cleared her throat. “It’s Eranthis hyemalis.”

The gun jabbed her breastbone. “Are you contradicting me?”

Fear was poking through the numbness, big-time. “Um, no.”

He petted the flower tattoo with the gun. “I’ve heard you have tattoos. My father kept a collection of tattoos. He gathered them during the war. I inherited his secret album when he died. There must be fifteen, twenty. Papa did love his trophies, but he had so few people to share them with. People are squeamish, you see. But not me. I treasure it.” He chuckled. “Perhaps I’ll follow Papa’s example. Take your tattoos for mementos. I can start my own album. Never too late, hmm?”

Vivi was shuddering violently. “What do you want from me?”

Haupt sighed. “The usual, my dear. For you to tell me something I don’t know about the Conte deLuca’s hidden treasure.”

Vivi bit her lip, squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

“I understand. You’re as ignorant as your sisters. But the Contessa’s letter suggests that the three of you together have a chance. If Lucia deLuca was convinced of this, then I continue to be optimistic.”

“You’ll never get my sisters,” she said, with quiet conviction.

“No? I’m already planning the hits on your inconvenient future brothers-in-law. As soon as they’re out of the way, we’ll have no problem with your sisters. Particularly after we send them the DVD of John having his naughty fun with you. That will flush them out.” He leaned closer, so she could not avoid his sour smell, and pushed her chin up with the gun. He twisted his hand around her pendant until the chain snapped, and stared at it intently. “Just like the other two. Worthless bauble.”

He opened a briefcase and flung it inside. Vivi saw the gleam of gold, a snarl of chains. Nell’s and Nancy’s necklaces were there, too.