Kiss The Girls Part 12

She was praying so hard, concentrating, that she didn't hear him at the door. He was always so quiet, anyway. A phantom. A ghost.

"You don't listen don't listen a whit, do you? You just a whit, do you? You just don't learn! don't learn!" Casanova said to her.

He held a hospital syringe in one hand. He had on a mauve-colored mask smeared with thick white and blue paint. It was the most gruesome and upsetting mask he'd worn so far. The masks did did match his moods, didn't they? match his moods, didn't they?

Kate tried to say don't hurt me, don't hurt me, but nothing came out. Only a little but nothing came out. Only a little pff pff sound escaped from her lips. sound escaped from her lips.

He was going to kill her.

She could barely stand, or even sit, but she gave him what she thought was a faint smile.

"Hi... good to see you." She got that much out. Had she made any any sense? she wondered. She didn't know for sure. sense? she wondered. She didn't know for sure.

He said something back to her, something important, something important, but she had no idea what it was. The mysterious words echoed inside her brain... meaningless mumbo jumbo. She but she had no idea what it was. The mysterious words echoed inside her brain... meaningless mumbo jumbo. She tried tried to listen to what he was saying. She to listen to what he was saying. She tried tried so hard... so hard...

"Dr. Kate... talked to the others... broke house rules!

"Best girl, the best! ... Could have been... so smart that you're stupid!"

Kate nodded her head as if she understood what he'd just told her, followed his words and logic perfectly. He obviously knew she had talked to the others. Was he saying that she was so smart that she was stupid? That was true enough. You got that right, pal.

"I wanted... talk," she managed. Her tongue felt as if it were enclosed in a woolen mitten. What she had wanted to say was Let's talk this all out. We need to talk. Let's talk this all out. We need to talk.

He wasn't much into talking on this visit, though. He seemed inside inside of himself. Very distant. The Iceman. Something especially inhuman about him. That hideous mask. Today, his persona was Death. of himself. Very distant. The Iceman. Something especially inhuman about him. That hideous mask. Today, his persona was Death.

He was less than ten feet away, armed with the stun gun and and a syringe. a syringe. Doctor, Doctor, her brain screamed. He's a doctor, isn't he? her brain screamed. He's a doctor, isn't he?

"Don't want to die. Be good," she managed to say with great effort. "Get dressed up... high heels..."

"Should have thought of that earlier, Dr. Kate, and you shouldn't have broken the rules of my house every chance you got. You were a mistake on my part. I don't usually make mistakes."

She knew that the electric shocks from the gun would immobilize her. She tried to concentrate on what she could do to save herself.

She was on full automatic pilot now. All learned reflexes. One straight, true kick, One straight, true kick, she thought. But that seemed impossible right now. She reached deep inside herself, anyway. she thought. But that seemed impossible right now. She reached deep inside herself, anyway. Total concentration. Total concentration. All of her years of karate practice channeled into one slender chance to save her life. All of her years of karate practice channeled into one slender chance to save her life.

One last chance.

She'd been told a thousand times in the dojo to focus on a single target, and then use the enemy's force and energy against him. against him. Total focus. As much as she could right now. Total focus. As much as she could right now.

He came toward her and raised the stun gun to his chest. He was moving very purposefully.

Kate rasped out "kee-ai!" "kee-ai!" or something like that. The best she could manage right then. She kicked out with all of her remaining strength. She aimed for his kidneys. The blow could incapacitate him. She wanted to kill him. or something like that. The best she could manage right then. She kicked out with all of her remaining strength. She aimed for his kidneys. The blow could incapacitate him. She wanted to kill him.

Kate missed the kick of her life, but something happened. She did connect solidly with bone and flesh.

Not the kidney, not even close to her intended target. The kick had slammed into his hip, or his upper thigh. No matter-it had hurt him. The kick had slammed into his hip, or his upper thigh. No matter-it had hurt him.

Casanova yelped in pain. He sounded like a dog clipped by a speeding car. She could tell that he was surprised, too. He took a sudden stutter-step backward.

Then Jack and the G.o.dd.a.m.n Beanstalk Giant toppled over hard. Kate McTiernan wanted to scream for joy.

She had hurt him.

Casanova was down.

Chapter 42.

I WAS BACK in the South, back on this ugly homicide and kidnapping investigation. Sampson had been right-this time it was personal. It was also an impossible case, the kind that can go on for years. WAS BACK in the South, back on this ugly homicide and kidnapping investigation. Sampson had been right-this time it was personal. It was also an impossible case, the kind that can go on for years.

Everything was being done that could be done. There were eleven suspects currently under surveillance in Durham, Chapel Hill, and Raleigh. Among them were a.s.sorted deviates, but also university professors, doctors, and even a retired cop in Raleigh. On account of the "perfect" crimes, all area policemen had been checked by the Bureau.

I didn't concern myself with these suspects. I was to look where no one else was looking. That was the deal I had made with Kyle Craig and the FBI. I was the designated hitter.

There were several ongoing cases across the country at that time. I read hundreds of detailed FBI briefs on all of them. A killer of gay men in Austin, Texas. A repeat killer of elderly women in Ann Arbor and Kalamazoo, Michigan. Pattern killers in Chicago, North Palm Beach, Long Island, Oakland, and Berkeley.

I read until my eyes burned and my insides felt even worse.

There was a nasty case that was grabbing national headlines-the Gentleman Caller in Los Angeles. I pulled up the killer's "diaries" on Nexus. They had been running in the Los Angeles Times Los Angeles Times since the beginning of the year. since the beginning of the year.

I began to read the L.A. killer's diaries. I short-circuited as I read the next-to-last diary entry from the Times. Times. It took my breath away. I almost didn't believe what I'd just read on the computer. It took my breath away. I almost didn't believe what I'd just read on the computer.

I backed the story up on the screen. I reread the entry one more time, very slowly, word for word.

It was a tale about a young woman who was being held "captive" by the Gentleman Caller in California.

The young woman's name: Naomi C. Her occupation: Second-year law student.

Description: Black, very attractive. Twenty-two years old.

Naomi was twenty-two... a second-year law student... How could a savage, recreational killer in Los Angeles know anything about Naomi Cross? How could a savage, recreational killer in Los Angeles know anything about Naomi Cross?

Chapter 43.

I IMMEDIATELY called the reporter at the paper whose byline appeared on the diary stories. Her name was Beth Lieberman. She answered her own phone at the IMMEDIATELY called the reporter at the paper whose byline appeared on the diary stories. Her name was Beth Lieberman. She answered her own phone at the Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times.

"My name is Alex Cross. I'm a homicide detective involved with the Casanova murders in North Carolina," I told her. My heart was pounding as I tried to quickly explain my situation.

"I know exactly who you are, Dr. Cross," Beth Lieberman cut me off. "You're writing a book about this. So am I. For obvious reasons, I don't think I have anything to say to you. My own book proposal is circulating around New York right now."

"Writing a book? Who told you that? I'm not writing any book." My voice level was rising in spite of my better instincts. "I'm investigating investigating a spree of kidnappings and murders in North Carolina. That's what I'm doing." a spree of kidnappings and murders in North Carolina. That's what I'm doing."

"The chief of detectives in D.C. says otherwise, Dr. Cross. I called him him when I read you were involved with the Casanova case." when I read you were involved with the Casanova case."

The Jefe strikes again, I thought. My old boss in D.C., George Pittman, was a complete a.s.shole, who also wasn't a fan of mine. "I wrote a book about Gary Soneji," I said. "Past tense. I needed to get it out of my system. Trust me, I'm-" I thought. My old boss in D.C., George Pittman, was a complete a.s.shole, who also wasn't a fan of mine. "I wrote a book about Gary Soneji," I said. "Past tense. I needed to get it out of my system. Trust me, I'm-"

"History!"

Beth Lieberman hung up on me. Bang!

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h," I muttered into the dead receiver in my hand. I dialed the paper again. This time I got a secretary on the line. "I'm sorry, Ms. Lieberman has left for the day," she said in a staccato cadence.

I was a little hot. "She must have left in the ten seconds ten seconds it just took me to get reconnected. Please put Ms. Lieberman back on the phone. I know she's there. Put her on now." it just took me to get reconnected. Please put Ms. Lieberman back on the phone. I know she's there. Put her on now."

The secretary also hung up on me.

"You're a son of a b.i.t.c.h, too!" I said to the dead phone line. "Dammit all to h.e.l.l."

I was getting noncooperation in two cities on the same case now. The infuriating part was that I thought I might be on to something. Was there some kind of bizarre connection between Casanova and the killer on the West Coast? How could the Gentleman Caller possibly know about Naomi? Did he know about me as well? How could the Gentleman Caller possibly know about Naomi? Did he know about me as well?

It was just a hunch so far, but much too good to brush aside. I called the editor in chief at the Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times. It was easier to get through to the big man than it was to his reporter. The editor's a.s.sistant was a male. His phone voice was crisp, efficient, but as pleasant as Sunday brunch at the Ritz-Carlton in D.C. It was easier to get through to the big man than it was to his reporter. The editor's a.s.sistant was a male. His phone voice was crisp, efficient, but as pleasant as Sunday brunch at the Ritz-Carlton in D.C.

I told him that I was Dr. Alex Cross, that I'd been involved in the Gary Soneji investigation, and that I had some important information on the Gentleman Caller case. Two-thirds of that was absolutely true.

"I'll tell Mr. Hills," the a.s.sistant informed me, still sounding as if he were pleased as punch to hear from me. I was thinking it would be nifty to have an a.s.sistant like that.

It didn't take long for the editor in chief to come on the phone himself. "Alex Cross," he said, "Dan Hills. I read about you during the Soneji manhunt. Glad to take your call, especially if you have something for us on this messy affair."

As I talked to Dan Hills, I pictured a big man in his late forties. Tough enough, but California-dapper at the same time. Pinstriped s.h.i.+rt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow. Hand-painted tie. Stanford all the way. He asked me to call him Dan. Okay, I could do that. He seemed like a nice guy. Probably had a Pulitzer or two.

I told him about Naomi, and my involvement with the Casanova case in North Carolina. I also told him about the Naomi entry in the L.A. diaries.

"I'm sorry about your niece's disappearance," Dan Hills said. "I can imagine what you're going through." There was a pause over the line. I was afraid that Dan was about to be either politically or socially correct with me. "Beth Lieberman is a good young reporter," he went on. "She's tough, but she's professional. This is a big story for her, and for us as well."

"Listen," I cut off Hills-I had to. "Naomi wrote me a letter almost every week that she was in school. I saved those letters, all of them. I helped to bring her up. We're close. That That means a lot to me." means a lot to me."

"I hear you. I'll see what I can do. No promises, though."

"No promises, Dan."

Good to his word, Dan Hills called me back at the FBI offices within the hour. "Well, we had a meeting of the minds out here," he told me. "I talked to Beth. As you can imagine, this puts both of us in a tough spot."

"I understand what you're telling me," I said. I was cus.h.i.+oning myself for a soft blow, but I got something else.

"There are mentions of Casanova in the unedited versions of the diaries that the Gentleman sent her. It sounds like the two of them could be could be talking, even sharing exploits. Almost as if they're friends. It seems like they're communicating for some reason." talking, even sharing exploits. Almost as if they're friends. It seems like they're communicating for some reason."

Bingo!

The monsters were communicating.

Now I thought I knew what the FBI had been keeping secret, what they were afraid would come out in the open.

There were coast-to-coast serial killers.

Chapter 44.

RUN! GO! Just run your b.u.t.t off! Get the h.e.l.l out of here now! Just run your b.u.t.t off! Get the h.e.l.l out of here now!

Kate McTiernan staggered and weaved out through the heavy wooden door he had left open behind him.

She didn't know how badly Casanova was hurt. Escape was her only thought. Go now! Get away from him while you can. Go now! Get away from him while you can.

Her mind was playing tricks on her. Confusing images came and went, without making the proper connections. The drug, whatever it was, was taking its full toll. She was disoriented.

Kate touched her face, and realized her cheeks were wet. Was she crying? She couldn't even tell that for sure.

She was barely able to climb a steep wooden stairway outside her door. Was it heading to another floor? Had she just come up these stairs? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember anything. She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember anything.

She was hopelessly bewildered and confused now. Had she really knocked Casanova down, or was she hallucinating?

Was he coming after her? Was he racing up the stairs behind her right now? Blood was roaring in her ears. She felt dizzy enough to fall down.

Naomi, Melissa Stanfield, Christa Akers. Where were they being held? Where were they being held?

Kate was having tremendous difficulty navigating her way through the house. She weaved like a drunken person down the long hallway. What kind of strange structure was she in? It looked looked like a house. The walls were new, freshly built, but what kind of house was this? like a house. The walls were new, freshly built, but what kind of house was this?

"Naomi!" she called out, but her voice barely made a sound. She couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus for more than a few seconds. Who was Naomi? Who was Naomi? She couldn't remember exactly. She couldn't remember exactly.

She stopped and pulled hard on a doork.n.o.b. The door wouldn't open for her. Why was the door locked? What on earth was she looking for? What was she doing here? The drugs wouldn't allow her to think in straight lines.

I'm going into shock, trauma, she thought. She felt so cold and numb now. Everything that could gallop was galloping out of control inside her head. she thought. She felt so cold and numb now. Everything that could gallop was galloping out of control inside her head.

He's coming to kill me. He's coming from behind!

Escape! she commanded herself. Find the way out. Focus on that! Bring back help. she commanded herself. Find the way out. Focus on that! Bring back help.

She came to another flight of wooden stairs that looked ancient, almost from another era. Dirt was caked on the stairway. Soil. Little rocks and gla.s.s fragments. These were really old stairs. Not like the new wood inside.

Kate couldn't keep her balance any longer. She pitched forward suddenly and almost hit her chin on the second stair. She kept crawling, scrabbling, up the stairs. She was on her knees. Climbing stairs. Toward what? An attic? Where would she end up? Would he be there, waiting for her with the paralyzing stun gun and the syringe?

Suddenly she was outside! outside! She was actually out of the house! She had made it somehow. She was actually out of the house! She had made it somehow.