Part 15 (1/2)

Casanova could be a control freak who was violently jealous and extremely possessive. He was s.e.xually active and capable of several erections in a night. He was obsessed with s.e.x and the male s.e.xual 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-s.h.i.+rt. Her long brown hair was full and s.h.i.+ny. The bruising and swelling around her face was down a lot. ”I almost look look like my old self,” she had told me. ”But I don't like my old self,” she had told me. ”But I don't feel feel like my old self, Alex. Not inside.” 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.

”h.e.l.lo, I'm Kate McTiernan. Obviously,” she said to the a.s.sembled 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'II sit right down in the chair like a model patient. I promise you I will. No false bravado from me.”

She was definitely definitely in control of this moment. She was older than most medical students or interns, and in fact she looked like a doctor. 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, 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?” 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 circ.u.mstances, as if she could have done this for a living. I'd found her to be very self-a.s.sured 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 McTiernan. 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. 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? 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 s.h.i.+ning in her eyes, like perfect gla.s.s 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?

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 catchphrase for his forbidden games: Kiss the girls. 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 with Anna today. He remembered something, a quite wonderful and appropriate line, out of F. 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. 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? It was all biological, wasn't it? Tick-c.o.c.k. Tick-c.o.c.k.

When he finally arrived at the hideaway, he turned on the Stones full volume. The incomparable Beggar's Banquet Beggar's Banquet alb.u.m. He needed to hear loud, antisocial rock music today. Mick Jagger was fifty, right? He was only thirty-six himself. This was alb.u.m. He needed to hear loud, antisocial rock music today. Mick Jagger was fifty, right? He was only thirty-six himself. This was his his moment. 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 s.h.i.+mmery 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 gla.s.s 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 'n' 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.

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 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 b.u.t.tocks.

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. 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.”