“Take care of yourself.”
“Deal.”
At the FRA headquarters, three men were watching Dana on a big wall television screen talking on the telephone in her hotel room.
“I have two more stops to make,” she said. “I’ll be home in a few days…I’m leaving for Rome tomorrow morning.”
The men watched as Dana replaced the receiver, rose, and walked into the bathroom. The scene on the screen switched to a hidden peephole camera in a bathroom medicine cabinet. Dana started to undress. She slipped off her blouse and bra.
“Man, look at those tits!”
“Spectacular.”
“Wait. She’s taking off her skirt and panties.”
“Fellows, look at that ass! I want a piece of that.”
They watched Dana get into the shower and close the shower door. The door began to steam up.
One of the men sighed. “That’s it for now. Film at eleven.”
The chemotherapy treatments were hell for Rachel. The chemicals Adriamycin and Taxotere were given intravenously from a bag, and the process took four hours.
Dr. Young said to Jeff, “This is a very difficult time for her. She’s going to feel nauseous and drained and she’ll suffer a loss of hair. For a woman, that can be the most devastating side effect of all.”
“Right.”
The following afternoon Jeff said to Rachel, “Get dressed. We’re going for a ride.”
“Jeff, I really don’t feel up to—”
“No arguments.”
And thirty minutes later they were in a wig shop and Rachel was trying on wigs, smiling and saying to Jeff, “They’re beautiful. Do you like the long one or the short one?”
“I like them both,” Jeff said. “And if you get tired of these, we’ll come back and change you into a brunette or a redhead.” His voice softened. “Personally, I like you the way you are.”
Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “I like you the way you are.”
XVII
EACH CITY HAS its own rhythm, and Rome’s is like that of no other city in the world. It is a modern metropolis cocooned in the history of centuries of glory. It moves at its own measured pace, for it has no reason to hurry. Tomorrow will come in its own good time.
Dana had not been in Rome since she was twelve years old, when her mother and father had taken her there. Landing at the Leonardo da Vinci airport triggered a host of memories. She remembered her first day in Rome when she had explored the Colosseum, where the Christians had been thrown to the lions. She had not slept for a week after that.
She and her parents had visited the Vatican and the Spanish Steps, and she had thrown lire into the Trevi Fountain, wishing that her parents would stop quarreling. When her father disappeared, Dana felt that the fountain had betrayed her.
She had seen a performance of the opera Otello at the Terme di Caracalla, the Roman baths, and it was an evening she would never forget.
She had eaten ice cream at the famous Doney’s on the Via Veneto and explored the crowded streets of Trastevere. Dana adored Rome and its people. Who could have imagined that I would return here after all these years, looking for a serial killer?
Dana checked in at the Hotel Ciceroni, near the Piazza Navona.
“Buon giorno.” The hotel manager greeted her. “We are delighted that you are staying with us, Miss Evans. I understand that you will be here for two days?”
Dana hesitated. “I’m not quite sure.”
He smiled. “No problem. We have a beautiful suite for you. If there is anything we can do for you, let us know.”
Italy is such a friendly country. And Dana thought about her former neighbors, Dorothy and Howard Wharton. I don’t know how they heard about me, but they flew a man all the way here just to make a deal with me.
On an impulse, Dana decided to call the Whartons. She had the operator get her the Italiano Ripristino Corporation.
“I’d like to speak to Howard Wharton, please.”
“Would you spell that?”
Dana spelled it.
“Thank you. One moment.”
One moment turned out to be five minutes. The woman came back on the line.