“You don't sound like you're from the South,” Kate Mctierman 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.
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
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 an dover 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.”
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
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 was 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.” When the nurse wheeled the bulky chair almost up to a stand of microphones, Kate surprised everyone. She slowly stood up and walked the rest of the way.
“Hello, I'm Kate Mctiernan. Obviously,” she said to the assembled reporters who now pushed in even closer to the prime witness. “I have a very brief statement to make, then I'll get out of everybody's hair.” Her voice was strong and vibrant. She was very much in control of herself, or so it seemed to all of us watching and listening.
Her light touch and subtle humor drew smiles and laughter from the crowd. One or two of the reporters tried to ask questions, but the noise level had risen and it was hard to hear them. Cameras flashed and buzzed up and down the packed hospital corridor.
Kate stopped speaking, and it became relatively quiet again. At first everyone thought the press conference was too much for her to handle. A nearby doctor stepped forward, but she waved him away.
“I'm fine. I'm really okay, thanks. If I'm woozy or anything, I'll sit right
down in the chair like a model patient. I promise you I will. No false bravado from me.” She was definitely in control of this moment. She was older than most medical students or interns, and in fact she looked like a doctor.
She peered around the room she was curious, it seemed. Maybe a little amazed. Finally, she apologized for the momentary lapse. “I was just gathering my thoughts ... What I would like to do is tell you what I can about what happened to me and I will tell you everything I can but that will be it for today. I won't answer any questions from the press. I'd like you all to respect that. Is that a fair deal?” She was poised and impressive in front of the TV cameras. Kate Mctiernan was surprisingly relaxed under the circum stances, as if she could have done this for a living. I'd found her to be very self-assured and confident whenever she needed to be. At other times, she could be as vulnerable and afraid as the rest of us.
"First, I would like to say something to all the families and friends who have someone missing. Please, don't give up hope. The man known as Casanova strikes only if his explicit commands are disobeyed. I broke his rules, and I was badly beaten. But I did manage to escape.
There are other women where I was kept captive. My thoughts are with them in ways you can't imagine. I believe in my heart that they are still alive and safe."
The reporters pressed in closer and closer to Kate Mctierman. Even in her battered condition she was magnetic, her strength shone through.
The TV cameras liked her. So would the public, I knew.
For the next few moments, she did everything she could possibly do to allay the fears of the families of the missing women. She stressed again that she had been hurt only because she broke the house rules set down by Casanova. I thought that maybe she was sending a message to him, too. Blame me, not the other women.
As I watched Kate speak, I asked myself some questions: Does he take only extraordinary women? Not just beauties, but women who are special in every way? What did that mean? What was Casanova really up to?
What game was he playing?
My suspicion was that the killer was obsessed with physical beauty, but that he couldn't bear to be around women who weren't as smart as he was. I sensed that he craved intimacy also.
Finally, Kate stopped speaking. Tears were shining in her eyes, like perfect glass drops. “I'm through now,” she said in a soft voice.
“Thank you for taking this message out to the families of the missing women. I hope that it helped a little bit. Please, no more questions for now. I still can't remember everything that happened to me. I've told you what I can.” At first there was an unnatural silence. There wasn't a single question. She had been clear about that. Then the reporters and the hospital personnel began to clap. They knew, just as Casanova knew, that Kate Mctiernan was an extraordinary woman.
I had one fear. Was Casanova there clapping, too?
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 53.
AT 4:00 A. M." Casanova packed a spanking-new, green-and-gray Lands' End knapsack with necessary food and supplies. He headed out to his hideaway for a morning of long-awaited pleasures. He actually had a favorite catch phrase for his forbidden games: Kiss the girls.
He fantasized about Anna Miller, his newest captive, on the car drive there, and then as he hiked through thick woods. He visualized over and over what he was going to do to Anna today. He remembered something, a quite wonderful and appropriate line, out of E Scott Fitzgerald: The kiss originated when the first male reptile licked the first female, implying in a complimentary way that she was as succulent as the small reptile he had for dinner the night before. It was all biological, wasn't it? Tick-cock.
When he finally arrived at the hideaway, he turned on the Stones full volume. The incomparable Beggar's Banquet album. He needed to hear loud, antisocial rock music today. Mick Jagger was fifty, right? He was only thirty-six himself. This was His moment.
He posed naked in front of a floor-length mirror and admired his slender, well-muscled physique. He combed out his hair. Then he slipped into a shimmery hand-painted silk robe that he'd bought once upon a time in Bangkok. He left it open to expose himself.
He selected a different costume mask, a beautiful one from Venice, originally purchased for just such a special occasion. A moment of mystery and love. At last he was ready to see Anna Miller.
Anna was so haughty. Absolutely untouchable. Exquisite physically. He needed to break her quickly.
Nothing could match this physical and emotional feeling: adrenaline pumping, heart beating loudly, total exhilaration in every part of his body. He brought warm milk in a glass pitcher. Also a small wicker basket with a special surprise for Anna.
In truth, it was something he'd been planning for Dr. Kate. He'd wanted to share this moment with her.
He had put on the loud rock '' roll so that Anna would know it was time to get ready. It was a signal. He was certainly ready for her.
Pitcher full of warm milk. Long rubber tubing with a nozzle. Cuddly present in the wicker basket. Let the games begin.
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 54.
CASANOVA couldn't take his eyes off Anna Miller. The air around him seemed to roar. Everything was charged with high expectations. He was feeling more than a little out of control. Not like himself. More like the Gentleman Caller.
He looked down on his art his creation. He held a thought: Anna has never looked like this for anyone else.
Anna Miller lay on the bare wooden floor of the downstairs bedroom. She was naked, except for her jewelry, which he wanted her to wear. Her arms were bound with leather behind her back. A comfortable pillow was propped underneath her buttocks.
Anna's perfect legs hung from a rope tied to a ceiling beam. This was how he wanted her; this was exactly the way he'd imagined her so many times.
You can do anything that you want to do, he thought.
And so, he did.
Most of the warm milk was already inside her. He'd used the rubber hose and nozzle to do that.
She reminded him a little of Annette Bening, he was thinking, except that she was his now. She wasn't a flickering image on some Cineplex movie screen. She would help him get over Kate Mctiernan, and the sooner the better.
Anna wasn't so haughty anymore; she wasn't supremely untouchable, either. He was always curious about how much it took to break someone's will. Not so much, usually. Not in this age of cowards and spoiled brats.
“Please take it away. Don't do this to me. I've been good, haven't I?” Anna pleaded convincingly. She had such a beautiful and interesting face in happiness and especially in sorrow.
Her cheeks rose sharply whenever she spoke. He memorized the look, everything he could about this special moment. Details to dream about later on. Like the exact tilting angle of her derriere.
“It can't harm you, Anna,” he told her truthfully. “Its mouth is sewn shut. I sewed it myself. The snake is harmless. I would never hurt you.” “You're sick and vile,” Anna suddenly snapped at him. “You're a sadist!” He merely nodded. He had wanted to see the real Anna, and there she was: another snapping dragon.
Casanova watched the milk as it slowly dripped from her anus. So did the small black snake. The sweet fragrance of the milk drew it forward across the wooden two-by-fours of the bedroom floor. It was quite magnificent to observe. This truly was an image for beauty and the beast.
The cautiously alert black snake paused, then suddenly jutted its head forward. The head smoothly slid inside Anna Miller. The black snake cleverly gathered itself in folds and slid farther inside.
Casanova closely watched Anna's beautiful eyes widen. How many other men had ever seen this, or felt anything like what he was experiencing now? How many of those men were still alive?
He had first heard of this sexual practice for enlarging the anus on his trips to Thailand and Cambodia. Now he'd performed the ceremony himself. It made him feel so much better about the loss of Kate, about other losses.
&nb
sp; That was the exquisite and surprising beauty of the games he chose to play at his hideaway. He loved them. He couldn't possibly stop himself.
And neither could anyone else. Not the police, not the FBI, and not Dr. Alex Cross.
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 55.
KATE still couldn't remember much from the actual day of her escape from hell. She agreed to be hypnotized, at least to let me try, though she thought her natural defenses might be too strong. We decided to do it late at night in the hospital, when she was already tired and might be more susceptible.
Hypnotism can be a relatively simple process. First, I asked Kate to close her eyes, then to breathe slowly and evenly. Maybe I would finally meet Casanova tonight. Maybe through Kate's eyes I'd see how he worked.
“In with the good air, out with the bad,” Kate said, keeping her good humor most of the time. “Something like that. Right, Dr. Cross?” “Clear your mind as much as you can, Kate,” I said.
“I don't know about the wisdom of that.” She smiled. “There's an awful lot bumping around in there right now. Rather like an old, old attic filled with unopened dressers and portmanteaus.” Her voice was beginning to sound a little sleepy. That was a hopeful sign.
“Now just count back slowly from a hundred. Begin whenever you feel like it,” I told her.
She went under easily. That probably meant that she trusted me somewhat. With the trust came responsibility on my part.
Kate was vulnerable now. I didn't want to hurt her under any circumstances. For the first few minutes, we talked as we often did when she was fully conscious and awake. We had enjoyed talking to each other from the start.
“Can you remember being kept in the house with Casanova?” I finally asked her a leading question.
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls Page 13
