Part 27 (2/2)

I didn't ask Kate if I could stay, but I wanted to. I didn't know if Kate even wanted me to stay. It was a little complicated with Sampson there. I suppose I could have given him my car to drive back, but it was already after two-thirty. We all needed to get some sleep, anyway. Sampson and I finally left.

”Very nice. nice. Very Very interesting woman. interesting woman. Very Very smart. Not your type,” Sampson said as we pulled away from the house. From him, it was a rare, rave review. ” smart. Not your type,” Sampson said as we pulled away from the house. From him, it was a rare, rave review. ”My type,” he added. type,” he added.

When we reached the end of the block, I turned and looked back at the house. It was cooler now, in the low seventies, and Kate had already turned off the porch light and gone in. She was stubborn, but she was smart. It had gotten her through med school. It had gotten her past the deaths of people she loved. She would be okay; she always had been.

I called Kyle Craig when I got back to the hotel, though. ”How's our man Sachs?” I asked him.

”He's just fine. He's all tucked in for the night. Not to worry.”

Chapter 92.

AFTER THE good s.h.i.+p Alex and Sampson left, Kate carefully checked and double-checked double-checked all the doors and windows to her apartment. They were securely locked. She had liked Sampson right away. He was huge and scary, nice and scary, sweet and scary. Alex had brought his closest friend to see her, and she liked that. all the doors and windows to her apartment. They were securely locked. She had liked Sampson right away. He was huge and scary, nice and scary, sweet and scary. Alex had brought his closest friend to see her, and she liked that.

As she did her rounds, her safety check of home sweet home, she ruminated about a new life, far away from Chapel Hill, far away from everything terrifying and bad that had happened here. h.e.l.l, I'm living a Hitchc.o.c.k movie, h.e.l.l, I'm living a Hitchc.o.c.k movie, she thought, she thought, if Alfred Hitchc.o.c.k had stayed alive long enough to see and react to the madness and horror of the 1990s. if Alfred Hitchc.o.c.k had stayed alive long enough to see and react to the madness and horror of the 1990s.

Exhausted, she finally climbed into bed. Yuk. Yuk. She felt stale bread or cake crumbs against her legs. She hadn't made the bed that morning. She felt stale bread or cake crumbs against her legs. She hadn't made the bed that morning.

She wasn't accomplis.h.i.+ng much lately, and that made her angry, too. She'd been on a proper schedule to complete her intern year this spring. Now she didn't know if she'd make it by the end of summer.

Kate pulled the covers up under her chin-in early June. She was getting soooo soooo buggy. Her anxiety wasn't going to stop while the monster Casanova was on the loose out there, she knew. She thought about killing him. Her first and only violent fantasy. She imagined going to Wick Sachs's house. An eye for an eye. She remembered the appropriate pa.s.sage from the Book of Exodus. Eidetic memory, right. buggy. Her anxiety wasn't going to stop while the monster Casanova was on the loose out there, she knew. She thought about killing him. Her first and only violent fantasy. She imagined going to Wick Sachs's house. An eye for an eye. She remembered the appropriate pa.s.sage from the Book of Exodus. Eidetic memory, right.

She really wished that Alex had stayed, but she didn't want to embarra.s.s him in front of Sampson. She wanted to talk to Alex the way they always did, and she wished he was with her now. She wanted to be in his arms tonight. Maybe more than just in Alex's arms. Maybe she was ready for more. One night at a time. One night at a time.

She wasn't sure what she believed anymore, or if she believed in anything at all. She was praying lately, so maybe she did believe. Rote prayers, but prayers all the same. Our Father who art... Hail Mary full of... Our Father who art... Hail Mary full of... She wondered if a lot of people did the same thing. ”I do love the idea of you, G.o.d,” she finally whispered. ”Please love the idea of me back.” She wondered if a lot of people did the same thing. ”I do love the idea of you, G.o.d,” she finally whispered. ”Please love the idea of me back.”

She couldn't stop obsessing about Casanova, about Dr. Wick Sachs, about the mysterious, disappearing house of horror, and the poor women still trapped there. But she was so used to the continuous, terrifying nightmares that she finally drifted off to sleep, anyway.

Kate never heard him come into the house.

Chapter 93.

TICK-c.o.c.k. Tick-c.o.c.k. Tick-c.o.c.k.

Tickory, d.i.c.kory, c.o.c.k.

Kate finally heard a noise. A floorboard creaked on the right side of the bedroom.

Tiny, tiny sound... but unmistakable.

That wasn't her imagination, wasn't a dream. She sensed that he was there in her bedroom again.

Let it be a crazy thought; let it be a scene in a nightmare; let this whole past month be a nightmare I'm having.

Oh Jesus, oh G.o.d, no! she thought. she thought.

He was in her room. He'd come back! This was so bad that she couldn't make herself believe it was happening.

Kate held her breath until her chest ached and threatened to cave in. She never really really believed he would come back. believed he would come back.

Now she realized that was a terrible mistake. The worst of her life, but not the last one she was allowed, she hoped.

Who was this extraordinary madman? Did he hate her so much that he would risk everything? Or did he think he loved her so much, the sick, pathetic b.a.s.t.a.r.d?

She sat tensely on the edge of the bed and listened intently for another sound. She was ready to spring at him. There it was again... a tiny creak. a tiny creak. It was coming from the right side of the room. It was coming from the right side of the room.

Finally, she could see the full, dark silhouette of his body. She gulped air greedily and almost gagged.

There he was, G.o.dd.a.m.n him to h.e.l.l.

A powerful, hateful energy, like currents of electricity, surged between them. Their eyes finally met. Even in the darkness his eyes seemed to burn through her. She remembered his eyes so well.

Kate tried to roll away from him, from his first strike.

The blow came fast and hard. He hadn't lost his quickness. Excruciating pain ripped through her shoulder and down her left side.

Karate training kept her moving somehow. Sheer stubbornness. A will to live that was becoming her trademark. She was off the bed. Up on her feet. Ready for him.

”Mistake,” she whispered. ”Yours, this time.”

She saw the outline of a body again. This time against the moonlight streaming in a bedroom window. Fear and loathing gripped Kate. Her heart felt as if it might stop, just pack it in on her.

She fired a powerful kick. Hit him hard in the face and heard the crunch crunch of bone. It was horrifying yet wonderful to hear. of bone. It was horrifying yet wonderful to hear.

A high-pitched voice shrieked out in pain. She'd hurt him!

Now do it again, Kate. She bobbed, moved, kicked hard at the dark, s.h.i.+fting body, striking the stomach area. Again he grunted in pain. She bobbed, moved, kicked hard at the dark, s.h.i.+fting body, striking the stomach area. Again he grunted in pain.

”How do you like it?” Kate screamed at him. ”How do you you like it?” like it?”

She had him, and Kate vowed that she wasn't going to lose this time. She was going to capture Casanova all by herself. He was ripe for the catching. First, she was going to hurt him, though.

She punched him again. Short, compact, lightning fast, and powerful. Satisfying beyond anything she could imagine. He was staggering, moaning out loud.

His head snapped back hard. His hair flew out. She wanted him down down on the floor. Maybe unconscious. Then she would turn on a light. Then she just might kick him while he was down. on the floor. Maybe unconscious. Then she would turn on a light. Then she just might kick him while he was down.

”That was a love tap,” she told him. ”Just a start.”

She watched him stumble in front of her. He was going down.

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