Alex Cross 02 - Kiss the Girls (17 page)

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 and over. “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.
Is 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.

T
ICK-COCK.

A young lawyer named Chris Chapin had brought home a bottle of Chardonnay de Beaulieu, and he and his fiancée, 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 demibra. 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
are 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.

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.”

H
ALF 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.

W
HO 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.