Kiss the Girls (Alex Cross #2)(78)

“Why didn’t you bring this up before?” I asked Lowell.

“The FBI knew all about it, Alex. I told them myself. I know that they talked to Dr. Sachs several weeks ago. It was my impression that he wasn’t under suspicion, and that they had decided there was no connection with the earlier murder case. I’m absolutely sure of it.”

“Fair enough,” I said to the dean. I asked him for another big favor. Could he dredge up everything on Dr. Sachs that the FBI had originally requested? I also wanted to see the Duke yearbooks from the time when Sachs and Will Rudolph had both been students. I needed to do some important homework on the class of ’81.

Around seven that night, Sampson and I met with the Durham police again. Detectives Ruskin and Sikes showed up, among others. They were feeling heavy-duty pressure, too.

They pulled us aside before the update on the Casanova investigation. The stress had gotten to them, cooled their jets a little.

“Listen, you two have worked big, bad cases like this before,” Ruskin said. As usual, he was doing most of the talking. Davey Sikes didn’t seem to like us any better now than he had the first day we met.

“I know that my partner and I got a little territorial at first. I want you to know, though, all we want to do is stop the killing now. ”

Sikes nodded his large, blocklike head. “We want to nail Sachs. Trouble is, our brass has us chasing our tails as usual.”

Ruskin smiled, and finally so did I. We all understood departmental politics. I still didn’t trust the Durham homicide detectives. I was certain they wanted to use Sampson and me or at least keep us out of the way.

Also, I had the feeling they were still holding evidence back.

The Durham homicide detectives told us they were mired in an investigation of medical doctors in the Research Triangle, doctors with any kind of criminal record or associations. Wick Sachs was the chief suspect, but not the only one.

There was still a strong chance that Casanova would turn out to be someone we hadn’t even heard of. That was the way it often worked with repeat-killer cases. He was out there but we might have no idea who he really was. That was the scariest part of all, the most frustrating, too.

Nick Ruskin and Sikes took Sampson and me over to the suspects board that had been put up. There were seventeen names on it at this point. Five were doctors. Kate had originally believed that Casanova was a doctor, and Kyle Craig did, too.

I read off the doctors’ names.

Dr. Stefan Romm

Dr. Francis Constantini

Dr. Richard Dilallo

Dr. Miguel Fesco

Dr. Kelly Clark

I wondered again if several people could somehow be involved with the house of horror. Or was Wick Sachs our man? Was he Casanova?

“You’re the big guru,” Davey Sikes was suddenly leaning over my shoulder. “Who is he, my man? Help us local yokels out. Catch the bogeyman, Dr. Cross.”





Chapter 89


L ATE THAT night, Casanova was on the move again. He was hunting again. He had missed the thrill these last few days, but this was going to be an important night.

He easily penetrated the security of the sprawling Duke University Medical Center complex through a little-used gray-metal door in the private parking area reserved for doctors. On the way to his appointed destination, he passed several chirping nurses and serious-faced young doctors. Some of the doctors and nurses nodded, and even smiled at him.

As always, Casanova fit in perfectly with the surroundings. He could go anywhere and he usually did.

As he hurried down the sterile white hospital corridors, his head was busy figuring out complicated, important calculations about his future. He’d had a hugely successful run here in the Research Triangle area and the Southeast, but it was definitely drawing to an end. Starting tonight.

Alex Cross and the other dreary plodders were getting too close to him. Even the Durham police were becoming dangerous. He was a “territorial rec.” He knew their inadequate terminology for him. Eventually, someone would find the house. Or worse, someone would probably find him through dumb luck.

Yes, it was time to move on. Maybe he and Will Rudolph should go to New York City, he thought. Or sunny Florida, which had drawn Ted Bundy? Arizona might be pleasant. Spend the fall season in Tempe or Tucson… bustling college towns filled to bursting with prey. Or maybe they could settle in near one of the huge campuses in Texas. Austin was supposed to be nice. Or Urbana, Illinois? Madison, Wisconsin? Columbus, Ohio?

He was leaning toward Europe actually, either London, Munich, or Paris. His version of the grand tour. Maybe that was the right concept for the times. A truly grand tour for the whiz kids. Who needed to go watch Dracula when there were real monsters roaming the countryside day and night?

Casanova wondered if anyone had managed to follow him into the Medical Center maze. How about Alex Cross? It was a possibility. Dr. Cross had relatively impressive staying power. He had bested that unimaginative child molester, that garden-variety psycho killer, up in D.C. Cross had to be eliminated before he and Will Rudolph left the area for bigger and better things. Otherwise, Cross would follow them to hell and back.

Casanova passed into Building Two of the Byzantine hospital maze. This was the way to the hospital morgue and maintenance, so the foot traffic was usually lighter.

He peered down the long, off-white corridor behind him. No followers. No one willing to lead in this gutless, witless age, either.