Part 34 (1/2)

Casanova was leaving the house. I watched his face, watched his body language. He was confident, very sure of himself. I watched his face, watched his body language. He was confident, very sure of himself.

Detective Davey Sikes sauntered out to his car at a little past eleven on the fourth night. He was a powerful, man, athletic. He wore jeans, a dark windbreaker, high-topped black sneakers. Sikes climbed into a ten-or twelve-year-old Toyota Cressida he kept in the garage.

The sedan had to be his cruising car; his troller; his anonymous pickup vehicle. ”Perfect crimes.” Davey Sikes definitely had the know-how. He was a detective on the case, and had been for over a dozen years. had been for over a dozen years. He'd known the FBI would investigate every local policeman when they entered the case. He had been ready with his ”perfect” alibis. Sikes had even altered the date of a kidnapping to ”prove” he was out of town when it happened. He'd known the FBI would investigate every local policeman when they entered the case. He had been ready with his ”perfect” alibis. Sikes had even altered the date of a kidnapping to ”prove” he was out of town when it happened.

I wondered if Sikes would dare to go after another woman now. Had he been out carefully stalking and hunting already? What was he feeling now? What was he thinking right at this moment, I wondered, as I watched the dark Toyota back out of the driveway in suburban Durham. Was he missing Rudolph? Would he continue their game, or maybe stop now? Could he stop the game?

I wanted him so badly. Sampson had said at the beginning that this case was too personal for me. He was right on. No case had ever been more personal for me, not even close to this.

I tried to think the way he might. I tried to get into his rhythm. I suspected that he had already picked out a victim, even if he didn't dare take her yet. Would she be another smart, beautiful college student? Maybe he would change his pattern now. I doubted it. He loved his life, his creation, too much.

I followed the human monster down dark, deserted streets in southwest Durham. Blood pumped loudly through my head. I couldn't hear much of anything else. I drove with my headlights off for as long as Davey Sikes stayed on the side streets. Maybe he was just headed to the Circle K for cigarettes and beer.

I thought that I had finally figured out what had happened back in 1981, that I had probably solved the golden couple murder which had shocked the university community here and in Chapel Hill. Will Rudolph had planned and committed the violent s.e.x murders while he was a student. He had ”loved” Roe Tierney, but she was interested in football stars. Detective Davey Sikes had met and questioned Rudolph during the subsequent police investigation.

At some point, he had begun to share his own dark, forbidden secret with the brilliant medical student. They had known about each other. Felt it, sensed it. sensed it. Both of them desperately wanted to share their secret need with someone. Suddenly, they had each other. Both of them desperately wanted to share their secret need with someone. Suddenly, they had each other. Twinning. Twinning.

Now I had killed his only friend. Did Davey Sikes want to kill me for that? Did he know I was coming for him? What was he thinking right at this moment? I didn't just want to catch him, I needed to capture his thoughts.

Casanova turned onto Interstate 40 and headed south. He was traveling toward Garner and McCullers, according to bright white-on-green road signs. There was relatively heavy traffic on the interstate, and I was able to follow him in a safe cl.u.s.ter with four or five other cars. So far, so good. Detective against detective.

He got off at Exit 35, which was boldly marked for McCullers. He'd gone a little over thirty miles. It was approaching eleven-thirty at night. The witching hour.

I was going to take him out tonight, no matter what. I had never done that before, not in all my time as a homicide detective in Was.h.i.+ngton.

This time it was was personal. personal.

Chapter 117.

A MILE from the exit ramp off 41, a Ford pickup truck swerved out of a hidden driveway. It was unexpected, but good luck for me. The dull red truck fell in between Sikes and me, offering me some cover. Not much, but enough for a few more miles. MILE from the exit ramp off 41, a Ford pickup truck swerved out of a hidden driveway. It was unexpected, but good luck for me. The dull red truck fell in between Sikes and me, offering me some cover. Not much, but enough for a few more miles.

The Cressida finally pulled off the main road a couple of miles outside McCullers. Sikes parked in the crowded lot of a bar called the Sports Page Pub. One more car that wasn't likely to be noticed.

That was what had begun to give him away. It was why even Kyle Craig had been on my list of suspects. Casanova seemed to have known every move the police would make before they made it. before they made it. He had probably abducted some of the women by coming up to them as a police officer. He had probably abducted some of the women by coming up to them as a police officer. Detective Davey Sikes! He had gone into a professional shooting crouch that afternoon on the street in Chapel Hill. Detective Davey Sikes! He had gone into a professional shooting crouch that afternoon on the street in Chapel Hill. I knew he was another cop. I knew he was another cop.

When I searched through the newspaper articles on the golden couple murder, I had spotted his name. Sikes had been a young cop on the original investigation team. He had interviewed a student named Will Rudolph back then, but he never mentioned it to any of us, never let on that he had met Will Rudolph in 1981.

I pa.s.sed by the Sports Page Pub, and pulled off the road as soon as I turned the next bend. I got out of the car and hurried back toward the bar. I was in time to see Davey Sikes cross the highway on foot.

Casanova walked along the side of an intersecting side road with his hands thrust into his trouser pockets. He looked as if he belonged in the small-town neighborhood. Stun gun in one of those deep pockets, sport? Feeling the familiar, burning itch now? The thrill is back? Stun gun in one of those deep pockets, sport? Feeling the familiar, burning itch now? The thrill is back?

I followed Sikes into a pine-wooded lot, and he began to move quicker. He was fast for a big man. He could lose me now. Somebody's life would be at risk in the peaceful neighborhood. Another Scootchie Cross. Another Kate McTiernan. I remembered Kate's words: Drive a stake through his heart, Alex. Drive a stake through his heart, Alex.

I slid the Glock nine millimeter out of my shoulder holster. Light. Efficient. Semiautomatic. Twelve deadly shots. My teeth were gritted so tight they hurt. I clicked off the safety. I was ready to take Davey Sikes out.

I eyed the ominous shapes of overhanging pine branches as I moved along. An A-frame house was up ahead, set against the backdrop of a full, pale yellow moon. I moved quickly across the soft floor of pine needles. I made no sound. I had his tempo and rhythm down now.

I saw Casanova rapidly approaching the A-frame house, gaining speed. He knew his way. He'd been here before, hadn't he? He had been here to scope things out, to study the next victim, to get it just right. He'd been here before, hadn't he? He had been here to scope things out, to study the next victim, to get it just right.

I sprinted up closer to the house. Then I couldn't see him. I'd lost him for a second. He might have slipped inside.

A single s.h.i.+mmering light had been left on in the house. My heart was going to explode if I didn't blow him up first. My finger was on the semiautomatic's trigger.

Drive a stake through his heart, Alex.

Chapter 118.

TAKE SIKES out.

I fought to control my emotions, to find the calm pool inside me, as I ran toward a screened-in back porch that lay in s.h.i.+fting shadows and darkness. Suddenly, I could hear the sputtering hum of an air conditioner inside. I noticed a peeling sticker on the whitewashed porch door. It read: I live for Girl Scout cookies. I live for Girl Scout cookies.

He'd found another nice one out here, hadn't he? He was going to take her tonight. The Beast couldn't stop himself.

”h.e.l.lo, Cross. Now put down the gun. Very slowly, ace,” said the deep voice behind me in the dark.

Both my eyes closed for a beat. I lowered the pistol, then dropped it on the lawn of gra.s.s and pine needles. My body felt like an elevator car in free-fall.

”Turn around now, you son of a b.i.t.c.h. You meddling s.h.i.+thead.”

I turned, and looked into the face of Casanova. He was finally right there, close enough for me to touch. He had a Browning semiautomatic aimed at my chest.

There would be no more overthinking, just gut instincts, I told myself. I let my right leg buckle as if I'd lost my footing. Then I sucker-punched Sikes to the side of his head. It was a hard shot, a crus.h.i.+ng, heavyweight-caliber punch.

Sikes went down on one knee, but he came back up in a hurry. I grabbed the front of his jacket and bounced him off the wall of the house. His arm cracked against the s.h.i.+ngles and the handgun fell loose. The ground was firm under my feet, and I moved in on him again. The moment had the feeling of a good old-fas.h.i.+oned streetfight. I wanted it. My body ached for physical contact and release.

”C'mon, f.u.c.ker,” he challenged me. He wanted me, too.

”Oh, don't worry,” I told him. ”I'm coming.”

Another light flashed on inside the house. ”Who's out there?” The sound of the woman's voice caught me off guard. ”Who is out there, please?” ”Who is out there, please?”

He threw an arcing roundhouse punch. Pretty good speed and aim. He was a decent fighter, not just a lover. I remembered that Kate said he was scarily strong. I didn't plan to spend a lot of time in his killer's grasp, though.

I caught his punch on my upper arm, and it instantly went numb. He was powerful, all right. Stay away from his strength, I warned myself. Hurt him, though. Hurt him a lot.

I fired a hard right uppercut into his lower stomach. I thought of Kate and the beatings she had taken for being disobedient. I vividly remembered the final beating she'd gotten.

I crunched another right hand into his stomach. I felt the stomach soften. I think I hit him below the belt. Sikes groaned and slumped over like a badly beaten club fighter. It was a trick, a slick feint on his part.

He fired a punch and caught the side of my head. He rang my bell pretty good. I snorted, bobbed a little, showed him he hadn't hurt me. This was streetfighting, D.C. style. C'mon, white boy. Come to me, monster man. C'mon, white boy. Come to me, monster man. I needed this time with him so much. I needed this time with him so much.