Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls

by Patterson, James

  “Our first big break,” Ruskin said to me.

  “What do you know about the intern so far?” I asked enroute to the University of North Carolina Hospital.

  “She's hanging in there. Apparently, she came down the Wykagil like a slippery fish. They're saying it's a miracle. Not even a major broken bone. But she's in shock, or something worse. She can't talk, or she won't talk. The docs are using words like catatonic and posttraumatic shock. Who knows at this point? At least she's alive.” Ruskin had a lot of enthusiasm, and he could also be charismatic. He definitely wanted to use my connections. Maybe I could use his.

  “Nobody knows how she got into the river. Or how she got away from him,” Ruskin told me as we entered the college town of Chapel Hill. The thought of Casanova stalking female students here was terrifying. The town was so pretty and seemed so vulnerable.

  “Or whether she actually was with Casanova,” I added a thought. “We don't know that for sure.” “We don't know shit from Shinola, do we?” Nick Ruskin complained as he turned down a side street marked HOSPITAL. “I'll tell you one thing, though, this story is about to go public in a big way. The circus just came to town. See, up ahead.” Ruskin had that right. The scene outside North Carolina University Hospital was already media bedlam. Television and press reporters were camped out in the parking lot, the front lobby, and all over the serene, sloping green lawns of the university.

  Photographers snapped my picture, as well as Nick Rus-kin's, when we arrived. Ruskin was still the local star detective. People seemed to like him. I was becoming a minor celebrity, at least a curiosity, in the case. My involvement in the Gary Soneji kidnapping had already been broadcast by the local wags. I was Dr. Detective Cross, an expert on human monsters from up North.

  “Tell us what's going on,” a woman reporter called out. “Give us a break, Nick. What's the real story with Kate Mctiernan?” “If we're lucky, maybe she can tell us.” Ruskin smiled at the reporter, but he kept on walking until we were safely inside the hospital.

  Ruskin and I were far from first in line, but we were allowed to see the intern later that night. Kyle Craig pulled the necessary strings for me. A determination had been made that Katelya Mctiernan wasn't psychotic, but that she was suffering from posttraumatic stress syndrome. It seemed a reasonable diagnosis.

  There was absolutely nothing that I could do that night. Anyway, I stayed after Nick Ruskin left, and I read all the medical charts, the nursing notes, and write-ups. I perused the local police reports describing how she had been found by two twelve-year-old boys who had skipped school to fish and smoke cigarettes down by the riverside.

  I suspected I knew why Nick Ruskin had called me, too. Ruskin was smart. He understood that Kate Mctiernan's current state might involve me in the case as a psychologist, especially since I had dealt with this kind of post stress trauma before.

  Katelya Mctiernan. Survivor But just barely. I stood beside her bed for a full thirty minutes that first night. Her IV was hooked up to a drip monitor. The bed's siderails were up high and tight around her.

  There were already flowers in the room. I remembered a sad, powerful Sylvia Plath poem called “Tulips.” It was about Plath's decidedly unsentimental reaction to flowers sent to her hospital room after a suicide attempt.

  I tried to recall what Kate Mctiernan had looked like before she got the black eyes. I'd seen photos. A lot of ugly swelling made her face look as if she were wearing goggles or a gas mask. There was more nasty swelling surrounding her jaw.

  According to the hospital write-up, she'd lost a tooth, too.

  Apparently, it had been knocked out at least two days before she was found in the river. He'd beaten her. Casanova. The self-proclaimed Lover.

  I felt bad for the young intern. I wanted to tell her it would be all right somehow.

  I rested my hand lightly on hers, and repeated the same sentences over an dover. “You're among friends now, Kate. You're in a hospital in Chapel Hill. You're safe now, Kate.” I didn't know if the badly injured woman could hear me, or even understand me. I just wanted to say something consoling to her before I left for the night.

  And as I stood there watching the young woman, the image of Naomi's face flashed before me. I couldn't imagine her dead. Js Naomi all right, Kate Mctiernan? Have you seen Naomi Cross? I wanted to ask, but she couldn't have answered, anyway.

  “You're safe now, Kate. Sleep easy, sleep well. You're safe now.” Kate Mctiernan couldn't say a word about what had happened. She had lived through a horrifying nightmare that was worse than anything I could imagine.

  She had seen Casanova, and he had left her speechless.

  Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls

  CHAPTER 47.

  TICK-COCK.

  A young lawyer named Chris Chapin had brought home a bottle of Chardonnay de Beaulieu, and he and his francee, Anna Miller, were drinking the California wine in bed. It was finally the weekend. Life was good again for Chris and Anna.

  “Thank God this godawful workweek is over,” sandy-haired twenty-four-year-old Chris exclaimed. He was an associate at a prestigious law office in Raleigh. Not exactly Mitch Mcdeere in The Firm no German-made convertible to sign on but a good start on his lawyering career.

  “Unfortunately, I have a paper on contracts due Monday.” Anna grimaced. She was in her third year of law school. “Plus, it's for the sadist Stacklum.” “Not tonight, Anna Banana. Screw Stacklum. Better still, screw me.” “Thank you for bringing home the vino.” Anna finally smiled. Her white teeth were dazzling.

  Chris and Anna were good for each other. Everyone said so, all their lawyer pals. They complemented each other, had pretty much the same worldview, and, most of all, were smart enough not to try to change each other. Chris was obsessive about his job. Okay, fine. Anna needed to go antiquing at least twice a month. She spent her own money as if there were no tomorrow. That was okay, too.

  “I think this wine needs to breathe a little while longer,” Anna said with an impish grin. “Uhm, while we're waiting.” She slipped down the straps of a white lace demi bra She'd purchased the bra and matching lace strip at Victoria's Secret in the mall.

  “Yep. Thank God, it's the weekend,” said Chris Chapin.

  The two of them fell into an all-purpose embrace, playfully undressing each other, kissing, caressing, losing themselves in the sexy moment.

  In the middle of their lovemaking, Anna Miller had a strange feeling.

  She sensed that someone else was in the bedroom. She pulled away from Chris.

  Someone was standing at the foot of the bed! He was wearing a grimly painted mask. Red and yellow dragons. Fierce ones. Angry and grotesque figures that appeared to be clawing at one another.

  “Who the hell are you? What art you?” Chris said in a frightened voice. He searched for the ball bat they kept under the bed and found the bat handle. “Hey, I asked you a fucking question.” 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.

  Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls

  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 seeme
d 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 in formation 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 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.”

  Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls

  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 total 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.

  Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls

  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 didn't want him to see any weakness he could exploit. 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.