Alex Cross, Run (Alex Cross 20)

“I know that much,” I told him.

“I was hoping we could do an image swap, and see if we aren’t talking about the same guy,” Penner said.

“And by same guy, you mean Elijah Creem.”

“At a minimum, it’s highly suspicious,” he said. “He’s got homes in Georgetown and Palm Beach, which just happens to be where these masks are popping up.”

I was already on my feet, with the blood pumping in my ears. Considering the kind of sociopathic tendencies Creem had shown me both times we met, it all felt entirely plausible. Creem was also a surgeon, which meant a high degree of knife skill, whether that was with a scalpel, or with our killer’s signature serrated blade.

In homicide, circumstantial evidence can be an easy trap. I’ve been around long enough to avoid getting carried away by how things seem to be sometimes. But even so, by the time I hung up with Penner, this didn’t just feel like a theory to me.

It felt a whole hell of a lot like the solution.

CHAPTER

83

IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG TO CONFIRM WHAT DETECTIVE PENNER HAD SUSPECTED. Other than a few cosmetic details, the old man mask in the Florida surveillance image was a clear match to the ones we’d seen in Georgetown. It was time to move on Dr. Creem.

The first thing I did was call Errico Valente down at his crime scene on Roosevelt Island to brief him. Then I printed everything I had in hard copy and left it in a plain envelope on Valente’s desk. I’d already gotten enough heat for one day. I didn’t need an e-trail leading back to me on any of this, and I knew Errico could handle it. Also, that he’d be discreet. If he got the credit, that was the least of my worries.

After that, all I could do was finish out my day, head home, and wait to hear what they’d made of it all.

Of course, that didn’t stop me, Bree, and Sampson from putting our heads together that night, up in my office at home. There was still plenty to talk about.

It was starting to feel like we had our own PI firm running out of my attic. It was a little ridiculous, with all the secrecy—but also exciting. After three days on the desk, I felt like I was actually getting something done.

I caught Bree and John up on everything I’d learned that day, and we swapped a few theories. My best guess was that Elijah Creem would be in for questioning by morning, if not actually in custody. This also put a bright light on his friend, Josh Bergman, who was starting to look pretty good as our River Killer. Valente would be speaking with him, too, no doubt.

After that, we moved on to the Elizabeth Reilly case, and her phantom boyfriend—the man we knew of only as Russell. Bree had continued checking NCIC records, flagging any arrests for someone with that first or last name. So far, none of the hits she’d gotten had shown even a remote possibility of being related.

It was the same deal with Rebecca Reilly, Elizabeth’s kidnapped daughter. I’d been checking in with Ned Mahoney at the FBI, but there was no movement on that front, either. The hard truth was that our best shot at finding this baby would be if “Russell” came out of the shadows to go after another pregnant girl. I hated to even think about it.

All of which left the subject of Ron Guidice on the table.

“What about our other friend?” I said. “The one we don’t talk about.”

Bree and Sampson looked at each other. Whatever they had going on Guidice, they’d been keeping it to themselves.

“Not much to tell,” John said.

“Not much?” I said. “Or nothing at all?” I was too curious to leave it alone. Or maybe just sick of being out of the loop.

Sampson shrugged and killed the last of his beer. “Supposedly, there was an older woman and a little girl living with him until recently. The neighbor thinks they were Guidice’s mother and daughter, but he couldn’t say for sure. Either way, they’re gone now. That place of his out in Reston is like a ghost house.”

“I thought we weren’t talking about this,” Bree said.

“We’re not,” Sampson said, and laid himself across my old leather couch.

I gave John a thumbs-up by way of thanks. I wished I could be in on this, but as long as Guidice’s restraining order was in place, I wasn’t going to touch it. If that meant Guidice got to win a few battles along the way, so be it.

I was still determined to win the war.

CHAPTER

84

RON GUIDICE SLID HIS HEADPHONES OFF.