The plane's engines roared as it took off. Juliette felt her stomach drop as they left the ground. She was going to Italy. She had no idea what to expect, but she felt a strange thrill of excitement.

  This was going to be an interesting case, that much she was sure of.

  "How are you settling in?" she asked Wyatt.

  Wyatt sighed, looking out the window. "It's been a lot to take in, not going to lie. Moving to a new country, new language, new job. I still feel as if I have culture shock. My wife loves the fashions. She's already a style addict." He made a wry face. "I get the feeling a lot of my next few salary checks are going to be spent on clothes and shoes. Suzy’s already got a part-time job at the local Pilates studio. And our cat loves the apartment. It's on the first floor, with a tiny, paved courtyard that's fully secured. More than she had in the States. She's settled in well. I guess it's just me." He sighed. "I really love America and I guess I'm used to it. It's like, my comfort zone, especially after a few Army years in the Middle East. America's my safe place. But now, I've had to leave it and take a big jump into a new culture."

  Juliette nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy for Wyatt. She knew how difficult it could be to adjust to a new country and culture. She was lucky that she'd always been a nomad and had never gotten attached to anywhere.

  "It's so different here. The food, the habits, the whole ambiance. So I guess in a way it's good." He made a face.

  "How about you, Sierra?" Juliette asked.

  Sierra turned around in her seat, her face alight with excitement. "My commune is great. I'm living with such interesting people. Their Wi-Fi was a mess, but I've sorted it out. And I'm still able to do a lot of work remotely for the States. It means staying up late, but I'm a night owl anyway."

  "And how do you feel about going to Italy?" she asked.

  "This case sounds like a big challenge and I’m waiting to see what I can do from an IT perspective. But just from a travel angle, I can't wait to try the pizza! I hear Naples pizza is the best in the world. I mean, I know we’re on a very serious case, but we still have to eat, don’t we?"

  Juliette laughed, feeling her mood lighten. Sierra had a way of making things seem less daunting.

  As the flight progressed, Juliette felt a sense of anticipation building. She had no idea what they were walking into, but she was ready for whatever lay ahead.

  The flight seemed a lot shorter than two hours, with time passing quickly as they went over the sketchy case details and she caught up with her two team members. She couldn’t believe it when they were asked to prepare for landing, and then the airplane touched down at Naples International Airport.

  It was eight-thirty p.m. in Italy, and Juliette knew they still had a lot to do tonight.

  They disembarked ahead of the other passengers - one of the perks of being law enforcement. Carrying their bags, they hurried through the airport. There, waiting for them in the arrival hall, was the detective that Juliette had spoken to on the phone. He was tall, dark-haired, and in uniform, which he wore stylishly – in fact Juliette remembered reading that some of the modern Italian police uniforms had been designed by the great Armani himself. But despite looking every inch the part, Dario had an air of worry about him.

  "I am Detective Dario," he said in the now familiar accented English. "Welcome to Naples. I am at your disposal if you need anything at all. Where can I take you now?"

  "To the latest crime scene," Juliette said, glancing at Wyatt who nodded confirmation of the plan they’d sketched out in the airplane.

  Dario nodded. "Yes. That will be the victim that fell in the Old Town, in the street of Spaccanapoli. That happened just before I called you. The man died on impact. Nobody saw where he came from. He just plummeted to the ground! Then, earlier today, we had the body that fell at the Pompeii site." As he walked, Dario spread his hands dramatically.

  Juliette nodded, trying to take it all in. She was already forming hypotheses in her mind.

  "So the second death was about three hours ago, literally?" Wyatt asked.

  "Yes. The body has been removed, of course. But there are photos available of this and the earlier crime. They are not a pretty sight." Dario made a face as he led them out of the airport and toward the waiting car. "But perhaps they will tell you something. Let us go to the site. You can see where it happened, and what it looked like."

  "That sounds like a good plan," Juliette said, glancing at the others to make sure they agreed. They both nodded. Wyatt had his game face on, but she could tell he was still overwhelmed by his new surroundings. Sierra, on the other hand, seemed to be adapting very quickly. She looked excited and ready for the challenge.

  “Let me know what help you will need,” Dario offered, and Juliette felt glad that he was cooperating. It wasn’t always a given when a foreign team arrived in town, as she had discovered.

  “We’ll need the use of a car,” she said, and Dario nodded.

  “Of course. Anything more?”

  Glancing at Sierra, Juliette added, “Our IT specialist can translate text most times, but is there someone she can call on if she needs help and she’s working on her own?”

  Dario passed her a card. “This is the number of the translator we use. She is on call, and will be able to help immediately, and she does have knowledge of IT terminology. She has worked for us previously on IT cases.”

  “Thank you.” Juliette passed the card to Sierra, who echoed the thanks. She felt glad that any language difficulties could be tackled on site.

  They got into the car and very soon were winding their way through the narrow, busy streets of Naples. The airport was very close to the city center, and they were soon among the lights and sounds, with aromas of pizza, garlic, and cooking seafood wafting mouthwateringly into the car.

  Juliette had eaten a basic sandwich on the airplane, knowing that a crime scene and most probably a pathologist's office were going to be first on the list of destinations; but even so, there was no way you could breathe in these scents and not feel a pang of hunger. Pushing the feeling aside, she kept her eyes open, taking in the sights and sounds of the city.

  The streets got narrower and narrower, and several times Dario activated his lights or siren to push through seemingly impossible gaps in the clusters of traffic along the winding route.

  He ended up parked outside an old, beautiful looking church on a cobblestoned road, with quaint buildings beyond.

  But that wasn't what caught Juliette's eye.

  There was a small crowd gathered and the police had cordoned off the area. Juliette, Wyatt, and Sierra stepped out of the car and walked towards the police tape.

  Here was where the body had fallen.

  People wanted answers to this seemingly inexplicable crime, and this was the first place she could look for them.

  What would she find, she wondered, striding toward the scene.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Here, in an alleyway off a small square that contained a pizzeria, café, and a wine bar, there were no tall buildings, yet a man had fallen to his death in the most gruesome way. Juliette knew it was up to them to piece together the circumstances behind this seemingly inexplicable crime.

  Normally, she guessed the square would be bustling, but now only three grim-faced police and forensic officers were standing nearby. From inside the café and restaurants, nervous looking men in aprons were peering out. They seemed shocked by what had happened, looking for answers, but also looking anxious to resume their business. The police had cleared the square and the absence of tourists, on a fine summer night, was costing them.

  Juliette's Italian wasn't as good as her French. She spoke French like a local. Italian, she had to focus more, and she knew she had an accent. Even so, she hoped it would be adequate to help them piece together exactly what had occurred in this impossible-seeming crime.

  "Buon giorno," she greeted the police with the Italian traditional nicety for 'good day.'

  "Buon giorno," the closest detective replied, nodding at them.

  "What happened here?" she asked, aware of Wyatt and Sierra behind her, taking in every detail.

  "One of the people in the square, at about five-thirty p.m., heard a bang coming from this alleyway. It sounded as if someone had dropped something or something had fallen from the roof, they said, so they walked over to look and they found a man had fallen. He died on impact, dead immediately as he hit the ground. Broken. There was no chance of resuscitating him, nothing they could do. His skull had split, and there were other injuries also," he said grimly. "Here are the photos."

  Juliette steeled herself, knowing they would not be pretty, as he handed her an iPad. She scrolled through slowly, trying to move past the disturbing sight of the broken body, and looking instead for any possible explanation for how it had landed there.

  There was no harness attached, no safety helmet. The man was fully clothed although missing his shoes. Perhaps they’d been ripped away by the force of his fall. But there were nylon ties around his limbs.

  Had both the men been dropped from airplanes? Here, in the town center with its crowded buildings, people might not have seen a plane. But she recalled that the other body had landed in the amphitheater at Pompeii. A passing airplane would have been noted in that setting. People would have picked up its sound and associated it with the falling body, surely? Or maybe not?

  The police, too, seemed to be at a loss. They had found no trace of any other person or object near the body, she saw from the report accompanying the photos, and no explanation of how it had come to be here.

  At any rate, seeing the landing site showed Juliette one important fact. From the extent of the injuries, this body had fallen from such a height that nobody could have anticipated where it would land. So it had not been intentionally aimed at this square.

  Where the victims had landed was now merely a result of what had happened to them. That, now, needed to be figured out.

  "I think we're finished here," she said, casting an inquiring look at Wyatt.

  "I can't see that anything here will tell us more," he agreed.

  "Sierra?" Juliette asked the young woman, seeing that she was busy on her phone.

  "I'm looking online, and I’m picking up a few chat sites in this neighborhood. A few local groups. I've logged into one and I'm using translate. People are talking about this, full of ideas. A number of them have theorized it's a mob killing," she said in a lower voice to Wyatt and Juliette.

  "I guess this is Naples," Juliette agreed.

  "Nobody in the apartments heard a helicopter or airplane," Sierra confirmed, pressing a few more keys with an intent expression.

  "That's useful to know," Juliette said. Not necessarily helpful, though, as it only increased the mystery of what could have happened.

  Letting out a thoughtful breath, she looked around. This quiet square, steeped in history, was holding onto its secrets. Answers needed to be found, but she knew they would have to look elsewhere.

  "Should we allow the square to be reopened, Agent?" the police asked.

  Juliette reached a decision on that quickly. "Yes. I think people can return to the square. Keep the alleyway closed for now, though."

  "Agreed. We will do that."

  She turned back to Dario.

  "Is the pathologist ready for us?"

  He nodded. "They were also going to do the postmortem of the second victim as a priority. It should be completed by now, or at any rate, mostly finished."

  "Can you take us there, please?"

  "Sure," he said. "I will take you there immediately."

  They got back into the car. Already, as they left the piazza, Juliette saw people trickling in. Some were locals, talking excitedly, peering at the alleyway. Some were visitors with no idea what had happened, photographing the picturesque square before heading over to one of the eateries or the wine bar.

  As for her team, Juliette knew that they would shortly be in a very different setting. They were going to leave the scenic part of Naples far behind, and venture into a part of the city that reflected its reputation as being rough, tough, and dangerous.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, they were approaching a bare, brick-faced building that was located on a side street in a rundown industrial area. It was very quiet here at night. Juliette saw that the fence was topped with barbed wire, and that a security guard in a dark uniform stood outside the gate. Already, Dario was on his phone and Juliette picked up the words 'Dr. Luigi' before he ended the call.

  Pulling up outside the gate, Dario flashed his badge, and the security guard nodded, opening the gate to let them through. They parked the car in a small lot and walked toward the building.

  No smells of pizza here. There was a hint of scorched metal in the air, and from somewhere nearby she could hear a banging and a clanging as if one of the motor workshops or repair centers in the area was still open and racing against a deadline.

  Inside the offices, the cool spring evening gave way to a chilly blast of air, laced with the smell of disinfectant that she always expected when walking into these places.

  Juliette shuddered involuntarily, wondering how anyone could become accustomed to the chill that emanated from the morgue. She pulled her coat tighter around her body, trying to ignore the smell that seemed to cling to her skin. She strode forward, her head held high.

  The pathologist met them in the lobby. He was a short, balding man with a thick mustache that was visible over the mask he wore.

  "Good evening," he greeted them, his voice rough and gravelly. "I am Dr. Luigi, the pathologist in charge of the postmortem. Please follow me."

  "I'm going to wait here, if that’s okay. Unless you need me?” Sierra said, heading for one of the few basic, plastic chairs in the lobby.

  "It’s okay," Juliette said, accepting that Sierra had no background or training in autopsy procedure, and that it would already be quite crowded in the autopsy room. Juliette knew she’d been helping the police with IT in crime investigations for a couple of years, and she didn’t seem particularly put off by her surroundings, but rather as if she was used to this happening – that the police didn’t need her in there, so she stayed behind.

  Walking behind the doctor, Dario led them through a maze of corridors, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the hallways, hearing a couple of muted voices from other rooms as they passed. Juliette felt a shiver run down her spine, a feeling she always got when entering a place of death. She pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

  At the end of the corridor, they entered a room which contained two metal tables. The air was thick with the smell of chemicals. At the entrance, Juliette quickly put on a mask and head cover before walking in. Dario and Wyatt did likewise.

  "Dr. Luigi was responsible for both the postmortems," Dario said.

  “I completed the other one earlier today,” Dr. Luigi explained.

  Juliette nodded. "May we view the bodies?" she asked in what she hoped was passable Italian.

  The pathologist nodded. "Si," he said briefly. He pulled back the sheets and Juliette moved forward, knowing that these were broken and damaged bodies, and that the massive impact of the fall might have obscured any evidence.

  "What are your findings?" she asked the doctor.

  In slow Italian, which she guessed was for their benefit, Dr. Luigi explained.

  "We found no evidence of any foreign substance in either of the victims, although not all the blood results are back yet. But there was significant trauma to the bodies. Both had a lot of broken bones, internal bleeding, and injuries consistent with a fall from a high altitude. Both deaths were caused by the impact of the fall."

  "Do you have any idea how those bodies would have been lifted?" Juliette asked.

  The doctor shook his head. "No. We can only speculate. They could have been dropped from an airplane, or a helicopter, or even raised up in some kind of device. A hot air balloon was something that briefly occurred to me as an idea. As a pathologist, I cannot be certain. However there is something I noticed, on both bodies, that might be significant, and help you to solve this case."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Juliette's eyes sharpened. Looking at the closest body, she thought she could see what the doctor had identified.

  And she agreed. For sure, this was significant.

  "Here?" she pointed, now seeing what the doctor had seen. "The abrasions on the wrists?"

  She felt excited by this discovery. On these bodies, she was looking for something over and above the terrible injuries, something that they had in common and which might point the way to what had happened. And here it was.

  The doctor nodded, looking approving. "Exactly. The wrists, and the ankles too. Both these victims have deep, multiple abrasion marks on the wrists and ankles as a result of those ties. As if they had been lifted by them, or even dangled from them."

  Wyatt moved forward, looking curious, peering down in the direction they were looking. "Is he talking about those wrist marks?" He glanced at the pathologist. "Sorry, doc. I don't speak Italian but my partner will hopefully translate for me."

  "Yes, it’s those abrasions. I’m going to ask the doc for his opinion,” she said. To the doctor, in Italian, she added, “Could it have been due to struggling?"

  "Possibly," the doctor agreed. "But they seem too deep and consistent for that."

  "No sign of anything else that they might have been tied to?"

  The doctor shook his head, looking grim. "I'm afraid not. Whatever was used must have been lost in the fall, or perhaps cut away when they were released. But to fall from such a height, they would lose clothing, shoes, hats, and perhaps whatever had been attached to those ties."

  Juliette frowned, her mind working quickly. Clearly, this was an important clue. What else did they have in common?

  She looked at the victims again. Both were short, slight men. Had they been chosen for that reason or was that coincidental?

 

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