Knight Music Page 14

  She couldn’t quite believe he would harm them. Fencing stolen goods could almost be considered a victimless crime. Not violent, in any case. But the memory of the ease with which he flashed that knife around gave Sonia chills. She continued praying.

  Where was he taking them? Sonia had read thrillers where the victim kept track of direction by counting left and right turns, but she couldn’t do it. She guessed they had left the downtown area, and the continuing stops and starts told her they were stuck in city traffic. So, probably not the highway. He wasn’t headed to some secluded mountain hideaway, but her imagination could conjure a dozen different locations in the city where she had no desire to go.

  What options did they have? Maybe when they reached their destination she could kick her feet out and catch Cipoletti in a vulnerable spot.

  The van stopped—it could have been fifteen minutes, although it felt more like an hour—and Sonia tucked her knees close to her body, ready to kick. But Cipoletti grabbed Lydia by the hair and held her close to his body, his knife at her neck, only the safety catch keeping it from digging into her skin. He gestured for Sonia to get out of the van, and she hung her legs over the edge, almost stumbling in the process. They were in a garage. He opened a door and took them through a laundry room into a kitchen. Sonia’s imagination ran through a dozen potential weapons available in any kitchen, but Cipoletti prodded them forward into the living room. He closed the blinds and faced them.

  “I am going to remove the tape from your mouths in a moment. Don’t think about screaming. This is not a neighborhood watch area. If anyone hears you, they won’t care. There is a chance you will get out of this alive.” He leaned to within an inch of Lydia’s face, and she flinched. His eyes flickered over Sonia, as if daring her to interfere.

  “All you need to do is answer one simple question for me. Who else knows? Who have you told? The cops?”

  I wish we had. Too late for regrets.

  Lydia shook her head.

  Ty knew about Cipoletti. But she hadn’t told him her plans for the day. He had no reason to suspect anything was wrong. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, tell Cipoletti about Ty. She wouldn’t put him in danger. Tears formed in her eyes while she fought the panic clogging her throat.

  “There is someone. You will tell me who it is.” He slid his thumb on the safety catch, and the knife slid forward.

  ❧

  Ty and Joe left the police station, and Ty turned in the direction of the parking lot. Joe shook his head. “We’ll get to the gallery faster on foot.” He moved in the opposite direction and broke into a jog.

  Ty wished he had on running shoes instead of loafers. “Should we tell someone?”

  “Do you want to wait?” Joe sped up a bit.

  Ty considered. “No.”

  “This way.” Joe worked through the maze of streets and after about five minutes reached Larimer Street. “There it is.”

  fCa, in a circle. Cipoletti Fine Arts. Ty could see the sign from several blocks away. They worked their way around a few hearty souls enjoying a cup of cappuccino on an outside terrace when he spotted a familiar Toyota. “That’s Sonia’s car.”

  A parking ticket fluttered under the wiper blade. The parking meter, with a maximum time of two hours, had expired. That suggested they had stopped for coffee before heading to the gallery more than two hours ago. Not good, not good at all that they hadn’t returned to feed more coins into the meter. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  Joe checked the gallery door, but it was locked. A young woman approached the door at the same time. “I’ll let you in.” She took out a key and unlocked it. Ty looked at Joe, and the two of them followed her inside.

  The showroom was empty. The woman called, “Tony?” but received no answer. She reappeared in the showroom, her sales-persona smile on her face. “May I help you gentlemen?”

  Ty looked at Joe. “We’re looking for a friend of ours. Wavy dark hair, pretty, probably wearing a red woolen coat?” He could have continued cataloging her assets but decided that was enough.

  “Sonia Oliveira? Yes, she was here when I left for lunch. I didn’t know who she was until Mr. Cipoletti said her name. I was thrilled. I’m a big fan of—”

  “Cipoletti saw her?”

  “Yes.” She smiled happily, as if imparting good news. “In fact, I think they might have gone to lunch together because she was still here when I left. He told me he might be gone when I got back. I thought he wanted to entertain the artist.”

  Ty drew quick, shallow breaths and imagined possibilities, none of them good.

  “Do you know where they might have gone?” Joe asked.

  “Maybe The Brown Palace? Mr. C likes to wine and dine his clients there sometimes.” The woman giggled. “I can tell her you stopped by when they get back.”

  Joe circled the room and shook his head at Ty. “Do you have any other art for sale?”

  The clerk looked uncertain. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

  “Do you have a Passo?” The postmodern painter. The worst painting in the bunch, as far as Ty was concerned, but unforgettable.

  “You probably should speak with Mr. Cipoletti about that. Here, let me get you his business card.”

  Ty guessed they had the painting, but she had been told not to display it without Cipoletti’s permission. Joe glanced at the card. “Can my friend have one, too?”

  Ty accepted the card from the girl. Business, cell—home phone number. “We won’t bother you any longer.” Once outside the door, he broke into a run.

  “Where are we headed?”

  “Let’s go get the car. We’re going after Kent. He’ll know where to find Cipoletti.”

  ❧

  “I can’t take you to him. He’ll kill me.”

  Ty held Kent at arm’s length, wanting to unleash the anger writhing inside of him. “Better you than two innocent women. Where can we find him?”

  Kent looked at Joe. He stood still, as unmovable as a suit of armor. Neither cousin flexed a muscle or made any threatening move. They didn’t have to.

  Kent wilted, a coward more afraid of the present threat than of possible future danger. “He has a home in Cherry Hills.” Kent rattled off an address. “Let me go, will you? No harm done, right?”

  Joe smiled, a slow, thin smile that had no humor in it. He bounced on his feet, and Ty could see the muscles rippling across his back. “You robbed my store, you sorry piece of work. You can be glad I’m a Christian and I know vengeance belongs to the Lord.”

  Kent turned frightened eyes on Ty. “What are you doing with him?”

  “It’s a long story. One that might teach you something, if you’re willing to learn. But that’s for another time.” Ty grabbed a fistful of his shirt and shook it. “You’re coming with us. If this information is false,”—he gestured with the address—“you will regret it.”

  “He lives there. I promise.” Kent’s voice squeaked. Ty tugged him in the direction of the car.

  “You call the police. I’ll drive.” Joe slammed the door shut and started the engine before Ty had buckled his seat belt.

  Ty reached Detective Torres’s voice mail. He left a message. “She’s off serving that warrant, I bet.” He called 911, but couldn’t get the dispatcher to catch his sense of urgency.

  “What is the nature of your emergency?”

  “I think my girlfriend’s been kidnapped. Can you send officers to this address?” They wanted to send officers to interview him instead of acting now. Red tape.

  “You called the police? I need to get outta here.” Kent fiddled with the door handle.

  Ty twisted in the seat. “The police are the least of your problems right now.” He looked at Joe. “I have an idea. One that involves my one-time partner.” He explained his plan.

  “I can’t do that. He’ll kill me.” Kent didn’t relish the idea.

  “I don’t care. You see, it’s our fault—yours and mine—that the most wonderful woman in the
world is in danger. And I’m not going to let anything happen to her. You will help us.”

  “Recognize this place?” Joe steered the car into a cul-de-sac. “This is the address you gave us.”

  ❧

  Cipoletti looked at Sonia without blinking, as if gauging her willingness to cough up the information he wanted. “I should have expected you to show up when Mr. Jones called to tell me that he had met the Sonia. Quite excited about it, he was. You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”

  Part of Sonia wanted him to remove the tape from her mouth, so she could let loose with the string of epithets she’d composed in her mind. She’d borrowed liberally from the New Testament: Brood of vipers. A blind man leading the blind. Whitewashed tombs. She especially liked that image. She wanted to vent her rage and her fear.

  Her fear presented the most pressing reason to leave the tape in place. As soon as he took it off, he’d expect an answer to his question. An answer she didn’t want to give, but she didn’t know if she could hold out against pain—especially if he cut Lydia again.

  “You’re not thinking about Mr. Jones though, are you? You don’t seem upset when I mention him. There’s someone else.” He tapped the capped end of the knife against his chin and then snapped his fingers. “I know! It must be that fool Kent’s secret partner.”

  Panic flooded Sonia, and Cipoletti laughed. “That’s it, isn’t it? Don’t look so worried, my dear. Kent will give me his name. You don’t have to betray him.”

  The doorbell rang. “Company.” He pushed the women into a bathroom and shoved a chair against the knob. “Don’t try anything.”

  ❧

  Ty and Joe hung back behind the car while Kent rang the doorbell. Cipoletti spoke with him on the stoop before motioning for him to enter.

  Ty dashed for the door at world-record speed, hitting it as the screen began to close. He burst through, Joe close behind. Ty crashed into Cipoletti, sending him to the floor. Ty knocked away whatever the man held in his hand before sitting astride him and pinning his arms to his sides. Joe grabbed his legs and handed Ty the rope he had stored in his trunk.

  “What are you doing? You can’t attack a man in his house—”

  “Where is she?”

  Sirens sounded in the distance.

  Cipoletti glared at Kent, who trembled in a dejected puddle in the corner. Ty heard a thump, followed by a louder thump.

  “They’re here!”

  “I got him.” Joe moved up Cipoletti’s body until he straddled his chest. “You go check.”

  Ty spared a glance at Kent and prayed he wouldn’t do anything foolish. Then he hunted for the source of the thumping, harder to hear now as the sirens grew louder. He found the chair propped against a door. “Are you in there?”

  Thump, thump.

  He yanked the chair away and opened the door. He slashed through the tape that bound the women’s wrists and uncovered Sonia’s mouth. Her eyes filled with tears. “Ty, I knew you’d come.”

  He took Sonia in his arms and held her until the police arrived.

  ❧

  “Chin up. It could be far worse.” Ty held Sonia loosely in his arms, her head tucked under his chin, for a final few minutes before he had to pass through airport security to reach his departure gate.

  Thanksgiving and Christmas had come and gone since the confrontation at Cipoletti’s house. Today was Valentine’s Day, but this wasn’t the way either one of them wanted to spend the day.

  “I know.” Tears turned her eyes into black diamonds. She let go of a shaky laugh. “Not quite the home going you expected when you came to Colorado, is it?”

  “No. It’s better.” He took her hand and walked down the magnificent concourse, past the sculpture of birds in flight. “But it wouldn’t hurt if you said a few prayers that my father sees it that way.”

  She lifted his hand to her lips. “You know you have my prayers.”

  “He won’t be pleased. He sent me out West to become a man, and instead he’s getting back a convicted felon.” In light of Ty’s full confession and his help in bringing Cipoletti and Kent to justice, the judge had commuted Ty’s sentence to two years of probation. He had even agreed to transfer oversight of Ty’s probation to Virginia so that he could return home and attempt a reconciliation with his family.

  “You’re a new man. I’ll pray that your father sees that.” They returned the way they had come.

  Ty looked at the board listing departure times. “I have to leave.”

  “I know.” But they continued holding hands.

  “Sonia, it’s too soon but. . .”

  “Shh.” She put a finger to his lips.

  “I’ll be back for Joe and Michelle’s wedding, after Easter.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Epilogue

  April in Colorado was a chancy proposition, with everything from heavy snow to warm spring days equally possible, but God smiled on Michelle and Joe’s wedding day. It dawned crystal clear, and the skies rang with the cries of ducks as they headed north for the summer. Sonia turned the radio to NPR and heard the strains of Eine kleine Nachtmusik. Perfect.

  Sonia had remained in Ulysses for a few weeks past the official end of her six months as artist-in-residence. Joe had generously offered her the continued use of his studio, and Michelle welcomed her presence at the house until her wedding day. “After all, how convenient is it to have my maid of honor in the house to help with all the last-minute details?”

  Michelle’s choice of Sonia as her maid of honor surprised her. Even knowing the privilege would have gone to Michelle’s long-time friend Carrie Romero—except Carrie had given birth to a baby girl in late March—didn’t dim Sonia’s pleasure.

  Carrie and her family—husband, Steve; son, Viktor; and baby daughter, Lila Pauline—would of course be in attendance, and the couple would provide special music. Judy joined Sonia as a bridesmaid, Pepper served as a junior bridesmaid, and Poppy got to scatter rose petals. All the women had pastel yellow dresses with sprigs of purple. Not Sonia’s favorite combination of colors, but they looked pretty as a group. Pretty as a picture. She giggled.

  Thinking of pictures brought to mind her finished painting, Freedom’s Flight, which had taken the place of Light Shining through the Darkness on Mr. Jones’s wall. A true gentleman, he had agreed to the exchange and had even paid a premium for the new work. “Because you have grown as an artist, my dear. Light Shining was an amazing work of art, but the joy in Flight is stunning.” Light now hung on the wall of Ulysses attorney Stanford Dixon’s office, the man who had purchased it before the robbery. The prints of her watercolor paintings were also selling well.

  Ulysses held so many happy memories and so many people she had come to love: all the Knights, of course, Josh, Max, Hugh Classen and his high school kids, Stanford Dixon, even Nel’s arch nemesis, Esther.

  But the one person she most associated with Ulysses had finally returned a week ago. Ty was both musician and groomsman in the wedding. They had spent every waking hour—more and more each day, as if they wanted to make up for two months’ separation—together. E-mails and video chats helped pass the intervening months, but they couldn’t compare to face-to-face time. Last night Ty had vowed not to call before the wedding. “Unless there’s an emergency.”

  So far, none had arisen, which suited Sonia and Michelle just fine. They had both experienced enough excitement in the past year to last a lifetime or two.

  Last night Michelle stayed with her parents in the local motel, and the house seemed strangely quiet without her. Both the women had packed their belongings, prepared to move out. Sonia had rented an apartment in Denver and would move back to the city, at least for now.

  The clock chimed noon, and she walked through the house, savoring every memory. She touched one of her presents to the couple: the finished fairy-tale puzzle, which she had framed for two friends enjoying their own happily-ever-after. Anyone who lived in a castle would understand. She had given o
ther, practical gifts at the several bridal showers she had attended.

  Perhaps. . .God willing. . .Sonia would have her own happily-ever-after ending as well.

  She closed the door and walked into the future.

  ❧

  Ty picked up his violin and prepared for his solo. He glanced at his parents sitting on the groom’s side of the sanctuary, still not believing they had come. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to the pianist and let the melody soar as a prayer. Joe had requested “The Lord’s Prayer,” in the musical setting composed by Albert Hay Malotte. God had taught Ty so much in such a short time. He rejoiced to return to the place where he had been reborn.

  In a few minutes, once he finished his music and the pianist began the “Wedding March,” Ty would join Joe and Brian at the front of the church and watch for the back door to open. All was as it should be. Joe hummed with anticipation for his bride. Brian’s heart sang for his wife and daughters. But Ty would welcome the best of them all, his Sonia.

  He finished the music and went out the side door, only to return behind Pastor Perkins, Joe, and Brian. Joe was resplendent in his black tux. The groomsmen wore matching tuxes, with the addition of yellow cummerbunds that matched the bridesmaids’ dresses. Ty bet Sonia had suggested that detail. She loved a dash of color.

  The doors opened, and Pepper came down the aisle, followed closely by her mother. Brian’s face beamed, as if reliving his own wedding. She had eyes only for him. When she reached the front, she moved to the left of the pastor.

  Next through the door appeared a vision in satin and lace, dark hair capped with golden lace, hands clasping a bouquet of lavender lilacs. Sonia kept her gaze straight forward until she reached the front and joined Judy. Then she turned her eyes on Ty, luminous joy shining from her eyes. When Poppy joined them at the front, Ty hadn’t even seen her procession.

  At last Michelle entered, tall and slender and radiant in a sheath gown with a train.

  The giving of the bride, the vows, the unity candle, the presentation of the bride and groom. . .the service that took so many months to prepare ended in a short fifteen minutes. Joe and Michelle appeared to float out of the church. Even though Brian was Joe’s best man, they had agreed that Brian should escort his wife and Ty would walk with Sonia. He stepped forward, took her arm, and marched down the aisle with her, tall and proud, a man free at last of guilt and failure.