“None of it’s here now,” Anne said. “He’s taken it. He’s taken everything.”

“You’ve heard about Timothy Ayers’s death. He had to have mentioned it. Where was your husband the night Tim died?”

She looked over at me, no expression. “If asked, I was to say that he was at home, here with me.”

“But he wasn’t.”

“No,” she said. “He wasn’t.”

Anne Spada looked like she was in some kind of trance. There was nothing I could do to lessen her shock. Her entire world had just come crashing down on her. I dug my phone out of my pocket, stepped out into the hall, and called Marta. The good news was I now had the hit woman’s name, which might give her some leverage. I also had another name for Spada, which she needed to check out. The bad news was that whatever his name was, he had a huge head start.

Chapter 47

Chapter 47

I raced down the stairs of the Spada home more than an hour later, and only after I’d made sure there was nothing else in the boxes that could put Spada/Horvat behind bars for good. I was glad to be free of Anne’s misery. She’d finally gotten it together enough to call a friend to come over and comfort her. When the friend had walked in, she seemed surprised to see an unfamiliar black woman holding Anne’s hand, trying to soothe her. Suspicion followed, and I got the distinct impression that she thought I was the help, but I left her to it. I didn’t have time to run it all down for her. I had a murdering psychopath to catch.

I slid into my car, called Marta again, my brain worrying at the edges of a recollection. “Anything?” I asked when she picked up.

“Leave me alone. I’m up to my ass in lawyers.” She hung up on me. I glowered at the phone, then startled when it rang in my hand. It was Barb.

“Jung’s gone.” She sounded hacked off. “After lunch, he went downstairs to take a nap, and when I went down later to see if he needed anything, the apartment was empty.”

I plastered my forehead to the steering wheel, considered banging it, but didn’t. Nick Spada, now Jung. I couldn’t catch a freaking break.

“What time did you last have eyes on him?”

“About three-thirty?”

“Are you down in the apartment right now?”

“I’m standing in the middle of it, next to the air mattress.”

“Look for a note. He’s strange, but he’s not a complete moron. He wouldn’t go off without telling us where.” Except for the last time he did exactly that. “Check everywhere.”

“I’ve checked. No note.”

“Considering this is Jung we’re talking about, try looking someplace dumb.”