Chapter 26According to the van’s registration, “Vic,” as the drugstore employees knew him, was Victor Rizzo. He had a bit of a rap sheet, mostly minor offenses: assault and battery that were settled out of court, small-time theft, check bouncing, and a DUI from a decade earlier. He was thirty-seven years old, and lived alone in an apartment south of Vegas. It wasn’t until Lumbergh and Holman arrived at the building that they learned through the radio that Rizzo worked at a local locksmith business owned by his father, Victor Sr.
“The older man in Wendice’s video,” Holman had said as they left the car, guns drawn.
They’d pounded on the front door of the unlit apartment until neighbors emerged, one explaining that he hadn’t seen “Vic” all day, and that his van hadn’t been in the lot since
