“He's a real good person. Don't go hurting him,” Florence warned me.
“Don't even think about it.” 1 nodded. “I'll only break one of his legs.” “He's strong as an ox,” she came back at me.
“I am an ox,” I told Florence Campbell, imparting a little secret of my own.
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 30.
I STARED into the dark eyes of Seth Samuel Taylor. He stared back. I kept on staring. His eyes looked like jet black marbles set in almonds.
Naomi's boyfriend was tall, very muscular, and working-man-hard. He reminded me more of a young lion than an ox. He looked disconsolate, and it was hard for me to question him. I had the premonition that Naomi was gone forever.
Seth Taylor hadn't shaved, and I could tell that he hadn't slept in days. I don't think he had changed his clothes, either. He had on a badly wrinkled blue plaid shirt over a T-shirt, and holey 501s. He still wore his dusty work boots Either he was very upset, or Seth Taylor was a shrewd actor.
I put out my hand, and his handshake was powerful. I felt as if I had put it into a carpenter's vise.
“You look like shit” were Seth Taylor's first words to me. Digital Underground was blaring out the “Humpty Dance” somewhere in the neighborhood. Just like it was D. C." only a little behind the times.
“You do, too.” “Well, fuck y'all,” he said. It was a familiar greeting on the streets, and we both knew it and laughed.
Seth's smile was warm, and somewhat contagious. He had an overconfident air about him, but it wasn't too obnoxious. Nothing I hadn't seen before.
I could see that his broad nose had been broken a few times, but he was still good-looking in a rough-hewn sort of way. His presence dominated a room as Naomi's did. The detective in me wondered about Seth Taylor.
Seth lived in an old working-class area north of downtown Durham. At one time, the neighborhood had been filled with tobacco-factory workers. His apartment was a duplex in an old shingled house that had been converted into two apartments. Posters of Arrested Development and Ice-T were up on the hallway walls. One poster read: Not since slavery has so much ongoing catastrophe been visited on black males.
The living room was filled with his friends and neighborhood folks. Sad Smokey Robinson songs played from a blaster. The friends were there to help in the search for Naomi. Finally, maybe I had some allies in the South.
Everyone at the apartment was anxious to talk to me about Naomi. None of them had any suspicions about Seth Samuel.
I was struck in particular by a woman with wise, sensitive eyes and skin the color of coffee with cream. Keesha Bowie was in her early thirties, a postal worker in Durham. Naomi and Seth had apparently talked her into going back to college to get her degree in psychology.
She and I hit it off right away.
“Naomi is educated, so articulate, but you already know that.” Keesha took me aside and talked seriously to me. "But Naomi never ever uses her abilities or her education to belittle someone else, or make herself seem superior. That struck every one of us when we met her.
She's so down-to-earth, Alex. She doesn't have a phony bone inside her. That this could happen to her is the saddest thing."
I talked with Keesha some more, and I liked her very much. She was smart and pretty, but this wasn't the time for any of that stuff. I looked for Seth and found him off by himself on the second floor. The bedroom window was open, and he was sitting outside on the gently sloping roof. Robert Johnson was singing his haunting blues somewhere in the dark.
“Mind if I come out and join you? This old roof hold us both?” I said from the window.
Seth smiled. “If it doesn't and we both crash through to the front porch, it'll be a good story for everybody. Worth the fall and the broken neck. C'mon out, you got a mind to.” He spoke in a sweet, almost musical, drawl. I could see why Naomi would like him.
I climbed out and sat with Seth Samuel in the darkness settling over Durham. We heard a smaller-town version of the police sirens and excited shouts of the inner city.
“We used to sit out here,” Seth muttered in a low voice. “Naomi and I.” “You okay?” I asked him.
“Nah. Never been any worse in my life. You?” “Never worse.” “After you called,” Seth said, “I was thinking about this visit, about this talk that we'd eventually have. I tried to think the way that you might be thinking. You know, like a police detective. Please, don't have any more thoughts that there's some chance that I could have anything to do with Naomi's disappearance. Don't waste time on that.” I looked over at Seth Samuel. He was hunched over, and his head rested on his chest. Even in the dark I could see that his eyes were shiny-wet. His grief was a palpable thing. I wanted to tell him that we were going to find her and that everything would work out, but I knew no such thing.
We finally held on to each other. We were both missing Naomi in our own way, mourning together, on the dark roof.
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 31.
A FRIEND of mine from the FBI finally returned one of my phone calls that night. I was doing some reading when he called: The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. I was working on Casanova's profile and still not getting very far.
I had originally met Special Agent Kyle Craig during the long, difficult manhunt for the serial kidnapper Gary Soneji. Kyle had always been a straight shooter. He wasn't territorial like most FBI agents, and not too uptight by Bureau standards, either. Sometimes I thought that he didn't belong in the FBI. He was too much of a human being.
“Thanks for finally returning my calls, stranger,” I said over the phone. “Where are you working out of these days?” Kyle surprised me with his answer. “I'm here in Durham, Alex. To be a little more precise, I'm in the lobby of your hotel. C'mon down for a drink or three in the infamous Bull Durham Room. I need to talk to you. I've got a special message for you from J. Edgar himself.” “I'll be right down. I've been wondering what the Hoove's been up to since he faked his own death.” Kyle was seated at a table for two beside a large bay window. The window faced directly onto the putting green of the university golf course. A lanky man who looked like a schoolboy was teaching a Duke coed how to putt in the dark. The jock was standing behind his lady, showing her his best putt-putt moves.
Kyle was watching the lesson of the links with obvious amusement. I watched Kyle with obvious amusement. He turned as if he could sense my presence.
“Man, you have a nose for bad trouble,” he said by way of a greeting.
“I was sorry to hear that your niece is missing. It's good to see you, in spite of the particularly vile and shitty circumstances.” I sat down across from the agent, and we started to talk shop. As always, he was extremely upbeat and positive without sounding naive.
It's a gift he has. Some people feel that Kyle could wind up at the top of the Bureau, and that it would be the best thing that ever happened.
"First, the honorable Ronald Burns appears in Durham. Now you show up.
What gives?" I asked Kyle.
“Tell me what you have so far,” he said. “I'll try to reciprocate as much as I can.” “I'm doing psych profiles on the murdered women,” I told Kyle. “The so-called rejects. In two of the cases, the rejected women had very strong personalities. They probably gave him a lot of trouble. That could be why he killed them, to get rid of them. The exception was Bette Anne Ryerson. She was a mother, in therapy, and she might have had a nervous breakdown.” Kyle massaged his scalp with one hand. He was also shaking his head.
“You've been given no information, no help whatsoever. But zip-a-dee-doo-dah” he smiled at me “you're still a half-step ahead of our people. I haven't heard that theory about the '.” It's pretty good, Alex, especially if he's a control freak."
“He could definitely be a control freak, Kyle. There has to be a damn good reason why he got rid of those three women. Now, I thought you were going to tell me some things I didn't know.” “Mayb
e, if you pass a few more simple tests, that is. What else have you figured out?” 1 bad-eyed Kyle while I slowly sipped my beer. “You know, I thought you were all right, but you're just another FBI prick.” “I was programmed at Quantico,” Kyle said in a passable computer voice.
“Have you done a psych profile on Casanova?” “I'm working on it.” I told him what he already knew. “As much as I can with virtually no information available.” Kyle beckoned with the cupped fingers of his right hand. He wanted it all, and then maybe he'd share something with me.
“He has to be someone who blends into the community well,” I said. “No one's even come close to catching him. He's probably driven by the same obsessive sexual fantasies that he's had since he was a boy. He could have been the victim of abuse, maybe incest. Maybe he was a Peeping Tom, a rapist, or a date rapist. Now he's a very fancy collector of extremely beautiful women; he seems to choose only the extraordinary ones. He's researching them, Kyle. I'm almost sure of it. He's lonely. Maybe he wants the perfect woman.” Kyle shook his head back and forth. "You are so goddamn crazy, man.
You think like him!"
“Not funny.” I grabbed Kyle's cheek between my thumb and forefinger.
“Now you tell me something I don't know.” Kyle pulled away from my cheek hold "Let me run a deal by you, Alex.
This is a good deal, so don't get cynical on me."
I raised my hand high in the air for the table waitress. “Check! Separate checks, please.”
“No, no. Wait. This is a good deal, Alex. I hate to say, ”Trust me,“ but trust me. Just to prove my truthfulness, I simply can't tell you everything right now. I'll admit that the case is definitely bigger than anything you've seen so far. You're right about Burns. The deputy director wasn't down here by accident.” “I figured Burns wasn't here to see the azaleas.” I felt like yelling at Kyle inside the quiet hotel bar. “Okay, tell me one thing I don't know already.” “I can't tell you any more than I already have.” “Damn you, Kyle. You haven't told me a goddamn thing.” I raised my voice. “What's the deal you have for me?” He put up a hand. He wanted me calm for this. "Listen. As you know, or suspect, this is already a four-star, multi jurisdictional nightmare, and it hasn't really heated up yet. Believe me on that.
Nobody's getting anything done, Alex. Here's what I'd like you to consider."
My eyes rolled back. “I'm glad I'm sitting down for this,” I said.
"This is an excellent offer for a man in your position to consider.
Since you're already outside the multi jurisdictional mess, and therefore immune to it, why don't you keep it that way. Stay on the outside, and work directly with me."
“Work with the Federal Bureau?” I choked on my beer. “Collaborate with the Feebies?” “I can give you access to all the information we get, as soon as we get it. I'll give you everything you need in terms of resources and information and all of our current data.” “And you don't have to share anything I come up with? Not even with the local or state police?” I said.
Kyle had become his intense self again. "Look, Alex, this investigation is large and expensive, but it's getting nowhere.
Officers are falling over one another while women all over the South, including your niece, are disappearing right under our noses."
"I understand the problem, Kyle. Let me think about your solution.
Give me a little space on this one."
Kyle and I talked some more about his offer, and I was able to pin him down on a few specifics. Basically I was sold, though. Working with Kyle would give me access to a first-rate support team, and I'd have clout whenever I needed it. I wouldn't be alone anymore. We ordered burgers and more beers, and continued to talk and put the final touches on my deal with the Devil. For the first time since I'd come South, I was feeling a little hopeful.
“I do have something else to share with you,” I finally told him. “He dropped me a note last night. It was a nice note, thoughtful, welcoming me to the area.” “We know.” Kyle grinned like the grown-up Andy Hardy that he is. “It was a postcard, actually. It showed an odalisque, a love slave from a harem.”
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 32.
BY THE TIME I got back to my room it was a little late, but I called Nana and the kids, anyway. I always call home when I'm away, twice every day, morning and night. I hadn't missed yet, and didn't plan to start that night.
“Are you listening to Nana and being a good girl for a change?” I asked Jannie when she came on the phone.
“I'm always a good girl!” Jannie squealed with little-girl glee. She loves talking to me. I feel the same way about her. Amazing, we were still madly in love after five years together.
I closed my eyes and visualized my girl. I could just see her puffing out her little chest, making her face look defiant, but smiling pointy crooked teeth at the same time. Once, Naomi had been a sweet little girl like that. I remembered everything about those times. I chased away the thought, the vivid portrait of Scootchie.
“Well, how about your big brother? Damon says he's being especially good, too. He says Nana's called you ' holy terror' today. Is that so?” “Unh-uh, Daddy. That's what Nana called him. Damon's the holy terror in this house. I'm Nana's angel all the time. I'm Nana Mama's good girl angel. You can axt her.” “Uh-huh. That's good to hear,” I told my little spin-doctor. “Did you pull Damon's hair just a tiny bit at Roy Rogers junk-food restaurant today?” “Not junk food, pally-wally! He pulled my hair first. Damon almost pulled my hair out, like I was Baby Clare without her hair now.” Baby Clare had been Jannie's main doll since she was two years old. The doll was “her baby,” absolutely sacred to Jannie. Sacred to all of us.
Once we had left Baby Clare at Williamsburg during a day trip, and we had to drive all the way back. Magically, Clare was waiting for us at the front-gate office, having a nice chat with the security guard.
“I couldn't pull Damon's hair, anyway. He's almost bald, Daddy. Nana got him his summer haircut. Wait'll you see my bald brother. He's a pool ball!” I could hear her laughing. I could see Jannie laughing. In the background, Damon wanted the phone back. He wanted his rebuttal about the state of his haircut.
After I finished with the kids, I talked to Nana.
“How are you holding up, Alex?” She went right to the point, as she always does. She would have made an outstanding detective, or anything else she wanted to be. “Alex, I asked how you're doing?” “I'm doing just fine and dandy. Love my work,” I told her. “How are you, old woman?” “Never mind that. I could watch these children in my sleep. You don't sound good to me. You're not sleeping, and you haven't made a lot of progress, have you?” Man, she was tough when she wanted to be. “It's not going as well as I would have hoped,” I told her. “Something good might have just happened tonight.” “I know,” Nana said, "that's why you're calling up so late.
But you can't share the good news with your grandmother. You're afraid I might call the Washington Post."
We'd had this discussion before on cases I was working on. She always wants inside information, and I can't give it up.
“I love you,” I finally said to her. “That's the best I can do right now.” “And I love you, Alex Cross. That's the best I can do.” She had to have the final word.
After I finished with Nana and the kids, I lay in the dark on the unmade, unwelcoming hotel bed. I didn't want maids or anyone else in the room, but the Do Not Disturb tag hadn't deterred the FBI.
A bottle of beer sat upright on my chest. I slowed my breathing, let the bottle balance there. I've never liked hotel rooms, not even on a vacation.
I started thinking about Naomi again. When she was a little girl like Jannie, she used to ride up on my shoulders, so she could see “far, far away in the Big People's World.” I remembered that Naomi thought Christmas was “Kissmass,” so she would kiss everybody during the holidays.
Finally, I let my mind settle on the monster who had taken Scootchie away f
rom us. The monster was winning so far. He seemed invincible, uncatchable; he didn't make any mistakes, and didn't leave any clues.
He was very sure of himself ... he even left me a cute little postcard for sport. What should that tell me?
He might have read my book about Gary Soneji, I thought. He just might have read my book. Had he taken Naomi to challenge me? Maybe to prove how good he was.
I didn't like that thought very much.
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 33.
I'M ALIVE, but I'm in hell! Kate Mctiernan tucked her legs close against her chest and shivered.
She was certain that she'd been drugged. Severe tremors, accompanied by gnawing nausea, swept over her in powerful waves that would not stop no matter what she tried.
She didn't know how long she had been asleep on the cold floor, or what time it was now. Was he watching her? Was there a peephole hidden in the walls? Kate could almost feel his eyes crawling all over her.
She remembered every gruesome and hideous detail of the rape. The feel of it was so vivid. The thought of being touched by him was repulsive, and the most horrifying images snapped at her.
Anger, guilt, violation all fused in her mind. Adrenaline surged powerfully through her body. “Hail Mary, full of grace ... the Lord is with thee.” She thought she had forgotten how to pray. She hoped that God hadn't forgotten her.
Kate's head was spinning. He was definitely trying to break her will, break her resistance. That was his plan, wasn't it?
She had to think, make herself think. Everything in the room was out of focus. The drugs! Kate tried to figure what he might be using.
What drug? Which one? ... Perhaps it was Forane, a strong muscle relaxant that was used prior to anesthesia. It came in a one-hundred-milliliter bottle. It could be sprayed directly into a victim's face, or poured over a cloth and held to someone's face. She tried to remember the drug's aftereflects.
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