The intruder growled like a wild animal.
“Well here’s a fucking answer.” Casanova’s right arm came up holding a Luger. He fired once, and a large red hole opened in Chris Chapin’s forehead. The young lawyer’s naked body slammed back against the bed’s headboard. The ball bat in his hand dropped to the floor.
Casanova moved quickly. He whipped out a second gun, and shot Anna in the chest with his stunner.
“I’m sorry about this,” he whispered softly as he carried her from the bed. “I’m so sorry. But I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”
Anna Miller was Casanova’s next great love.
CHAPTER 48
A DIZZYING medical mystery began the following morning. Everyone at North Carolina University Hospital was baffled, especially me.
Kate McTiernan had begun to talk very early that morning. I wasn’t there, but apparently Kyle Craig was in her room at daybreak. Unfortunately, our valuable witness was making no sense to anyone.
The highly intelligent intern raved incoherently throughout most of the morning. She seemed to be psychotic at times, and almost as if she were speaking in tongues. She experienced tremors, convulsions, and signs of abdominal and muscle cramps, according to the hospital write-up reports.
I visited with her late that afternoon. There was still concern that she had suffered brain damage. Most of the time I was in her room, she was quiet and unresponsive. Once, when she tried to speak, only a terrifying scream came out.
The doctor in charge came by the room while I was in there. We had already talked a couple of times that day. Dr. Maria Ruocco wasn’t interested in withholding important information about her patient from me. She was extremely helpful and nice, in fact. Dr. Ruocco said she wanted to help catch whoever, or whatever, had done this to the young intern.
I suspected that Kate McTiernan believed she was still being held captive. As I watched her struggle against unseen forces, I sensed that she was a terrific fighter. I found myself rooting for her in the hospital room.
I volunteered to sit with Kate McTiernan for long stretches. Nobody fought me for hospital-surveillance duty. Maybe she would say something, though. A phrase, or even a single word, might become an important clue in the hunt for Casanova. All we needed was one clue to mobilize everything.
“You’re safe now, Kate,” I whispered every so often. She didn’t seem to hear me, but I kept it up, anyway.
I got an idea, an irresistible notion, around nine-thirty that night. The team of doctors assigned to Kate McTiernan had already left for the day. I needed to tell someone, so I called the FBI and persuaded them to let me call Dr. Maria Ruocco at her home near Raleigh.
“Alex, are you still there at the hospital?” Dr. Ruocco asked when she got on the phone. She seemed more surprised than angry about the nocturnal call to her house. I had already spoken with her at great length during the day. We had both gone to Johns Hopkins and we talked a little about our backgrounds. She was very interested in the Soneji case and had read my book.
“I was sitting here obsessing as usual. I was trying to figure out how he kept his victims subdued.” I began to tell Maria Ruocco my theory, and what I had already done about it. “I figured he might drug them, and maybe he used something sophisticated. I called your lab for the results from Kate McTiernan’s toxic screen. They found Marinol in her urine.”
“Marinol?” Dr. Ruocco sounded surprised, just as I had been at first. “Hmmp. How the hell did he get Marinol to give her? That’s a real bolt out of the blue. What a clever idea, though. It’s almost brilliant. Marinol is a good choice if he wanted to keep her submissive.”
“Wouldn’t that account for her psychotic episodes today?” I said. “Tremors, convulsions, hallucinations—the whole package fits if you think about it.”
“You could be right, Alex. Marinol! Jesus. The symptoms of Marinol withdrawal could mimic the most severe D.T.s. But how would he know so much about Marinol and how to use it? I don’t believe a layman would come up with that.”
I had been wondering the same thing. “Maybe he’s been in chemotherapy? He could have been ill with cancer. Perhaps he had to take Marinol. Maybe he’s disfigured in some way.”
“Maybe he’s a doctor? Or a pharmacist?” Dr. Ruocco offered up another guess. I had thought of those possibilities as well. He could even be a doctor working at University Hospital.
“Listen, our favorite intern might be able to tell us something about him that can help us stop him. Can we do anything to get her through this withdrawal a little faster?”
“I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Less than that,” Maria Ruocco said. “Let’s see what we can do to help the poor girl out of her bad-dream state. I think we’d both like to talk to Kate McTiernan.”
CHAPTER 49
HALF AN hour later, Dr. Maria Ruocco was with me in Dr. Kate McTiernan’s room. I hadn’t told the Durham police, or the FBI, what I had discovered. I wanted to talk to the intern first. This could be a break in the case, the biggest so far.
Maria Ruocco examined her important patient for nearly an hour. She was a no-nonsense, but user-friendly, doctor. She was very attractive, ash blond, probably in her late thirties. A little bit of a Southern belle, but pretty terrific, anyway. I wondered if Casanova had ever stalked Dr. Ruocco.
“The poor kid is really going through it,” she said to me. “She had nearly enough Marinol in her system to kill her.”
“I wonder if that was the original idea,” I said. “She might have been one of his rejects. Dammit, I want to talk to her.”
Kate McTiernan seemed to be asleep. A restless sleep, but sleep. The instant Dr. Ruocco’s hands touched her, though, she moaned. Her bruised face twisted into a stark, fearful mask. It was almost as if we were watching her back in captivity. The terror was palpable, scary.
Dr. Ruocco was extremely gentle, but the soft moans and groans continued. Then Kate McTiernan finally spoke without opening her eyes.
“Don’t touch me! Don’t! Don’t you dare touch me, you fucker!” she shouted. Her eyes still didn’t open. She was squeezing them very tightly, in fact. “Leave me alone, you son of a bitch!”
“These young doctors,” Dr. Ruocco made a joke of it. She was a cool head under pressure. “Incredibly disrespectful as a group. And the goddamn language.”
Watching Kate McTiernan now was like seeing someone being physically tortured. I thought of Naomi again. Was she in North Carolina? Or in California somehow? Was the same thing happening to her? I chased the disturbing image out of my head. One problem at a time.
It took another half hour for Dr. Ruocco to treat Kate McTiernan. She put her on an IV dose of Librium. Then she reconnected the heart monitor Kate was on because of her injuries. When she had finished, the intern drifted off into an even deeper sleep. She wasn’t going to tell us any of her secrets tonight.
“I like your work,” I whispered to Dr. Ruocco. “You did good.”
Maria Ruocco motioned for me to step outside with her. The hospital corridor was in semidarkness; it was very quiet, and as eerie as hospitals can be at night. I had the recurring thought that Casanova could be a doctor at University Hospital. He might even be inside the hospital now, even at this late hour.
“We’ve done everything we can do for her right now, Alex. Let the Librium do its job. I count three FBI agents, plus two of Durham’s finest, guarding young Dr. McTiernan from the bogeyman for tonight. Why don’t you go back to your hotel. Get some sleep yourself. How about a little Valium for you, kind sir?”
I told Maria Ruocco that I preferred to sleep at the hospital. “I don’t think Casanova will come after her here, but there’s no way to tell. He just might.” Especially if Casanova was a local physician, I was thinking, but I didn’t mention that to Maria. “Besides, I feel a connection to Kate in there. I have from the first time I saw her. Maybe she knew Naomi.”
Dr. Maria Ruocco stared up at me. I had at least a foot in height on her. She spoke with a to
tal deadpan look on her face. “You appear sane, you sound sane at times, but you’re certifiable,” she said and smiled. Her bright blue eyes twinkled playfully.
“Plus, I’m armed and dangerous,” I said.
“Good night, Dr. Cross,” Maria Ruocco said and she blew me a feathery kiss.
“Good night, Dr. Ruocco. And thank you.” I sailed a kiss back at her as she walked down the corridor.
I slept restlessly on two uncomfortable club chairs pulled together inside Kate McTiernan’s room. I kept my revolver cradled in my lap. Pleasant dreams, I’m sure.
CHAPTER 50
WHO ARE you? Who the hell are you, mister?”
A loud, high-pitched voice woke me up. It was close by. Almost in my face. I remembered immediately that I was at the University of North Carolina Hospital. I remembered exactly where I was in the hospital. I was with Kate McTiernan, our prize witness.
“I’m a policeman,” I said in a soft and hopefully reassuring voice to the traumatized intern. “My name is Alex Cross. You’re in North Carolina University Hospital. Everything is okay now.”
At first, Kate McTiernan looked as if she might cry, then she seemed to take hold of herself. Watching her grab control like that helped me understand how she had survived both Casanova and the river. This was a very strong-willed woman I had been watching over.
“I’m in the hospital?” Her words were slightly slurred, but at least she was coherent.
“Yes, that’s right,” I said holding up one hand, palm facing out. “You’re safe now. Let me run and get a doctor. Please, I’ll be right back.”
The slight slurring continued, but Dr. McTiernan was focused, scarily so.
“Hold on a minute. I am a doctor. Let me get my bearings before we invite company in to visit. Just let me collect my thoughts. You’re a policeman?”
I nodded. I wanted to make this as easy for her as I possibly could. I wanted to hug her, hold her hand, do something supportive and yet not threatening, after what she’d been through the past few days. I also wanted to ask her about a hundred important questions.
Kate McTiernan looked away from me. “I think he drugged me. Or maybe all that was a dream?”
“No, it wasn’t a dream. He used a powerful drug called Marinol.” I told her what we knew so far. I was being so careful not to push Kate the wrong way.
“I must have been really tripping.” She tried to whistle, and made a funny sound. I could see where she was missing a tooth. Her mouth was probably dry; her lips were swollen, especially the upper lip.
Odd as it seemed, I found myself smiling. “You were probably on the planet Weirdness for a while. It’s nice to have you back.”
“It’s really nice to be back,” she said in a whisper. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Sorry,” she said. “I tried so hard not to cry in that horrible place. I want to cry now. I think I will.”
“Oh, please, you just cry your eyes out,” I whispered, too. I could barely talk or keep back tears myself. My chest felt tight. I went over to the hospital bed, and I lightly held Kate’s hand as she wept.
“You don’t sound like you’re from the South.” Kate McTiernan finally spoke again. She was grabbing control of herself. It amazed me she could do that.
“I’m from Washington, D.C., actually. My niece disappeared from Duke Law School ten days ago. That’s why I’m down here in North Carolina. I’m a detective.”
She seemed to see me for the first time. She also appeared to be remembering something important. “There were other women at the house where I was kept prisoner. We weren’t supposed to talk. All communication was strictly forbidden by Casanova, but I broke the rules. I talked to a woman named Naomi—”
I stopped her, cut her off there. “My niece’s name is Naomi Cross,” I said. “She’s alive? She’s all right?” My heart felt as if it were going to implode. “Tell me what you remember, Kate. Please.”
Kate McTiernan grew more intense. “I talked to a Naomi. I don’t remember a last name. I also talked to a Kristen. The drugs. Oh, God, was it your niece?… Everything is so hazy and dark right now. I’m sorry….” Kate’s voice trailed off as if someone had let the air out of her.
I gently squeezed her hand. “No, no. You just gave me more hope than I’ve had since I came down here.”
Kate McTiernan’s eyes were fixed and solemn, staring into mine. She seemed to be looking back at something horrifying that she wanted to forget. “I don’t remember a lot of it right now. I think Marinol has that side effect…. I remember that he was going to give me another injection. I kicked him, hurt him enough to get away. At least I think that’s what happened…
“There were thick, thick woods. Carolina pines, hanging moss everywhere…. I remember, I swear to God… the house… wherever we were being kept, it disappeared. The house where we were being held captive just disappeared on me.”
Kate McTiernan slowly shook her head of long brown hair back and forth. Her eyes were wide with astonishment. She seemed amazed at her own story. “That’s what I remember. How could that be? How could a house disappear?”
I could tell that she was reliving her very recent, terrifying past. I was right there with her. I was the first one to hear the story of her escape, the only one so far to hear our witness speak.
CHAPTER 51
CASANOVA WAS still disturbed and highly agitated about the loss of Dr. Kate McTiernan. He was restless and had been wide awake for hours. He rolled over and over in bed. This was no good. This was dangerous. He had made his first mistake.
Then someone whispered in the darkness.
“Are you all right? Are you okay?”
The woman’s voice startled him at first. He had been Casanova. Now he seamlessly switched over to his other persona: the good husband.
He reached out and gently rubbed his wife’s bare shoulder. “I’m okay. No problem. Just a little trouble sleeping tonight.”
“I noticed. How could I not? The human Mexican jumping bean strikes again.” There was a smile in her sleepy voice. She was a good person, and she loved him.
“Sorry,” Casanova whispered, and kissed his wife’s shoulder. He stroked her hair as he thought about Kate McTiernan. Kate had much longer brown hair.
He kept stroking his wife’s hair, but he drifted back into his own tortured thoughts again. He really didn’t have anyone to talk to, did he? Not anymore. Not around here in North Carolina certainly, not even in the highfalutin Research Triangle belt.
He finally climbed out of bed and trudged downstairs, He shuffled into his den and quietly shut and locked the door.
He looked at his wristwatch. It was 3:00 A.M. That would make it twelve out in Los Angeles. He made the call.
Actually, Casanova did have someone to talk to. One person in the world.
“It’s me,” he said, when he heard the familiar voice on the line. “I’m feeling a little crazy tonight. I thought of you, of course.”
“Are you implying that I lead a wanton and half-mad life?” the Gentleman Caller asked with a chuckle.
“That goes without saying.” Casanova was feeling better already. There was someone he could talk to and share secrets with. “I took another one yesterday. Let me tell you about Anna Miller. She’s exquisite, my friend.”
CHAPTER 52
CASANOVA HAD struck again.
Another student, a bright beautiful woman named Anna Miller, had been abducted from a garden apartment she shared with her lawyer-boyfriend near the State University of North Carolina in Raleigh. The boyfriend had been murdered in their bed, which was a new twist for Casanova. He left no note, and no other clues at the crime scene. After a mistake, he was showing us he was letter-perfect again.
I spent several hours with Kate McTiernan at the University of North Carolina hospital. We got along well; I felt that we were becoming friends. She wanted to help me with the psychological profile on Casanova. She was telling me everything that she knew about Casanova and his women captives.
/> As far as she could tell, there had been six women held as hostages, including herself. It was possible that there were more than six.
Casanova was extremely well organized, according to Kate. He was capable of planning weeks and weeks ahead, of studying his prey in amazing detail.
He seemed to have “built” the house of horrors by himself. He had installed plumbing, a special sound system, and air conditioning, apparently for the comfort of his women captives. Kate had only seen the house in a drugged state, though, and she couldn’t describe it very well.
Casanova could be a control freak who was violently jealous and extremely possessive. He was sexually active and capable of several erections in a night. He was obsessed with sex and the male sexual urge.
He could be thoughtful in his way. He could also be “romantic,” his own word. He loved to cuddle and kiss and talk to the women for hours. He said that he loved them.
In midweek, the FBI and the Durham police finally agreed on a secure place in the hospital for Kate McTiernan to meet with the press for the first time. The news conference was held in a wide entrance corridor on her floor.
The all-white hallway was jam-packed to the glowing red exit signs with reporters clutching their notepads, and TV people with minicams hoisted on their shoulders. Policemen with automatic weapons were also present. Just in case. Homicide detectives Nick Ruskin and Davey Sikes stayed close to Kate during the course of the TV taping.
Kate McTiernan was well on her way to becoming a national figure. Now the general public would get to actually meet the woman who had escaped from the house of horrors. I felt sure that Casanova would be watching, too. I hoped he wasn’t right there in the hospital with us.
A male nurse, who was clearly a bodybuilder, pushed Kate into the noisy, crowded hallway. The hospital wanted her in a wheelchair. She had on baggy UNC sweatpants and a simple white cotton T-shirt. Her long brown hair was full and shiny. The bruising and swelling around her face were down a lot. “I almost look like my old self,” she had told me. “But I don’t feel like my old self, Alex. Not inside.”
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