Part 33 (1/2)

My next shot wasn't so ambitious, no hero c.r.a.p. I was willing to settle for a hit anywhere. Chest, shoulders, lower torso. I fired!

Trick shot, f.u.c.khead. Watch this one. The bullet exploded through both pa.s.senger windows of a deserted Ford Taurus. It caught one of the bad guys high in the chest, just below the throat. The bullet exploded through both pa.s.senger windows of a deserted Ford Taurus. It caught one of the bad guys high in the chest, just below the throat.

He dropped as if his legs had been pulled from underneath him. I sprinted as fast as I could, toward the place I'd seen him standing last. Which one went down? Which one went down? my brain was screaming. my brain was screaming. And where is the other one? And where is the other one?

I darted in and out between the parked cars. He was gone! He wasn't there! He was gone! He wasn't there! Where the h.e.l.l was the one I had shot? And where was the other clever boy hiding? Where the h.e.l.l was the one I had shot? And where was the other clever boy hiding?

I saw the one I'd hit. He lay spread-eagled under the traffic light at Columbia and Franklin. The death mask still covered his face, but he looked almost ordinary in his white hightops, tan khakis, and windbreaker.

I didn't see a gun anywhere around him. He wasn't moving, and I knew he was badly hurt. I crouched on my knees over him, my eyes darting around as I checked him out. Careful! Careful, Careful! Careful, I warned myself. I didn't see his partner anywhere. I warned myself. I didn't see his partner anywhere. He's out there someplace. He knows how to shoot. He's out there someplace. He knows how to shoot.

I peeled the costume mask off his face, the last facade ripped away. You're not a G.o.d. You bleed like the rest of us. You're not a G.o.d. You bleed like the rest of us.

It was Dr. Will Rudolph. The Gentleman Caller lay close to death in the middle of the street in Chapel Hill. His blue-gray eyes were glazing over. A sopping puddle of arterial blood had already collected under him.

People were pus.h.i.+ng in closer from the sidewalk. They were gasping in horror and awe. Their eyes stretched wide. Most of them had probably never seen anyone actually die. I had.

I lifted his head. The Gentleman. The murdering, maiming scourage of Los Angeles. He couldn't believe that he'd been shot, couldn't accept it. His darting, fearful eyes told me that much.

”Who is Casanova?” I asked Dr. Will Rudolph. I wanted to shake it out of him. ”Who is Casanova? Tell me.”

I kept looking around behind me. Where was Casanova? He wouldn't let Rudolph die like this, would he? Two patrol cars finally arrived. Three or four local cops ran toward me with their guns drawn.

Rudolph struggled to focus his eyes, to see me clearly, or perhaps to see the world one final time. A b.l.o.o.d.y bubble formed on his lips and then popped with a soft spray.

His words came slowly. ”You'll never find him.” He smiled up at me. ”You're not good enough, Cross. You're not even close. He's the best ever.”

A raspy howl rose from the Gentleman's throat. I recognized the sound of the death rattle as I placed the death mask on the monster's face.

Chapter 113.

IT WAS a wild, jubilant scene, one that I would never be able to forget. The immediate families and close friends of the captive women kept arriving at Duke Medical Center all through the night. On the rolling hospital grounds and in the parking lot near Erwin Road, a large, emotional crowd of students and townspeople gathered and stayed on past midnight. There were nothing but indelible images for me.

Photographs of the survivors had been blown up and mounted on placards. Faculty and students held hands and sang spirituals as well as ”Give Peace a Chance.” For at least one night everyone chose to forget that Casanova was still out there somewhere. I tried it for a few hours myself.

Sampson was alive and recovering inside the hospital. So was Kate. People I had never met came up and fiercely shook my hand inside the suddenly festive facility. A father of one of the surviving victims broke down and wept in my arms. It had never felt this good to be a policeman.

I took the elevator to the fourth floor to visit Kate. Before I walked into her room, I took a deep breath. Finally, I went in. She looked like a mysterious mummy with all of her head bandages and wraps. Her condition had stabilized. She wasn't going to die, but she remained in a coma.

I held Kate's hand and I told her the long day's news. ”The captive women are free. I was at the house with Sampson. They're safe, Kate. Now you come back to us. Tonight would be a good night,” I whispered.

I ached to hear Kate's voice again, at least one more time. But no sound came from her lips. I wondered if Kate could hear me, or make any sense of the words. I kissed her softly before I left for the night. ”I love you, Kate,” I whispered against her bandaged cheek. I doubted that she could hear me.

Sampson was located one floor above Kate. Man Mountain had already come out of surgery, and his condition was listed as good.

He was awake and alert when I came in to see him. ”How's Kate and the other women?” he asked me. ”I'm about ready to leave this place myself.”

”Kate's still in a coma. I just came from her room. Your condition is 'good,' if you're interested.”

”You tell the doctors to upgrade me to 'excellent.' I hear Casanova got away.” He started to cough, and I could tell he was angry.

”Take it easy. We'll get him.” I knew it was time for me to go.

”Don't forget to bring me my shades,” he said as I left. ”Too much light in this place. Feel like I'm in Kmart.”

At nine-thirty that night I was back in Scootchie's hospital room. Seth Samuel was there. The two of them were impressive to watch together. They were strong, but they were also sweet. I began the happy task of getting to know Naomi-and-Seth.

”Auntie Scootch! Auntie Scootch!”

I heard a familiar voice behind me, and it was the best sound. Nana, Cilla, Damon, and Jannie all trooped into the room. They had flown in from Was.h.i.+ngton. Cilla broke down and cried as she saw her baby. I saw Nana Mama also wipe away a few tears. Then Cilla and Naomi were giving the word hug hug a new meaning. a new meaning.

My kids watched their Auntie Scootch lying in the scary hospital bed. I could see the fear and confusion s.h.i.+ning in their little eyes, especially Damon's, who tries to rise above all forms of uncertainty and terror in his life.

I went to my kids and scooped them up in my arms. I held them both as tightly as I could. ”h.e.l.lo, son, little cue ball in the side pocket! How's my Jannie?” I asked. For me, there's nothing like my family, nothing even close. I imagine that's part of why I do what I do. I know it is. Doctor Detective Cross.

”You found Auntie Scootch,” Jannie whispered into my ear. She hugged me tightly with her strong little legs and arms. She was even more excited than I was.

Chapter 114.

IT WASN'T over for me. The job was only half-done. Two days later, I trudged down a well-worn path through the woods separating Route 22 and the underground house. The local police officers I pa.s.sed on the way were somber and quiet. They tramped out of the woods with their heads lowered, not talking with one another, their faces drained of color and affect.

They had met the human monsters on an intimate basis now. They had seen the intricate and ghastly handiwork of Dr. Will Rudolph and the other monster who called himself Casanova. Some of them had explored the house of horror.

Most of them knew me by now. I was a regular at the h.e.l.lfires with them. Some nodded or waved h.e.l.lo. I waved back.

I was finally somewhat accepted in North Carolina. Twenty years ago that wouldn't have been possible, not even under these extreme circ.u.mstances. I was beginning to like it in the South a little, more than I would have thought possible.

I had a new notion, a plausible theory, about Casanova. It had to do with something I'd noticed during the gun-battle scene in these woods and on the streets of Chapel Hill. You'll never find him, You'll never find him, I recalled Rudolph's dying words. Never say never, Will. I recalled Rudolph's dying words. Never say never, Will.

Kyle Craig was at the house of horror that warm, hazy afternoon. So were about two hundred men and women from the Chapel Hill and Durham police forces, as well as soldiers from Fort Bragg, North Carolina. They were getting to know the human monsters up close and personal.

”Extraordinary time to be alive, to be a cop,” Kyle said to me. His humor got a shade darker every time I saw him. He worried me. Kyle was such a loner most of the time. Such a careeraholic. Apparently such a straight arrow. He had even looked that way in the Duke yearbook pictures I'd found of him.

”I feel sorry for these local people dragged out here for this,” I said to Kyle. My eyes pa.s.sed slowly over the ghoulish crime scene. ”They won't be able to forget this until the day they die. They'll dream of it for years.”

”How about you, Alex?” Kyle asked. His intense, grayish-blue eyes leveled mine. Sometimes, he almost seemed to care about me.

”Oh, I have so many nightmare images now, it's hard to pick out just one favorite,” I confessed with a thin smile. ”I'll go home soon. I'll make my kids sleep in with me for a while. They love to, anyway. They won't understand the real real reason why. I'll be able to sleep okay with the kids there to protect me. They pound on my chest if I have a nightmare.” reason why. I'll be able to sleep okay with the kids there to protect me. They pound on my chest if I have a nightmare.”