Kiss the Girls (Alex Cross 2)

I had originally met Special Agent Kyle Craig during the long, difficult manhunt for the serial kidnapper Gary Soneji. Kyle had always been

a straight shooter. He wasn’t territorial like most FBI agents, and not too uptight by Bureau standards, either. Sometimes I thought that he didn’t belong in the FBI. He was too much of a human being.

“Thanks for finally returning my calls, stranger,” I said over the phone. “Where are you working out of these days?”

Kyle surprised me with his answer. “I’m here in Durham, Alex. To be a little more precise, I’m in the lobby of your hotel. C’mon down for a drink or three in the infamous Bull Durham Room. I need to talk to you. I’ve got a special message for you from J. Edgar himself.”

“I’ll be right down. I’ve been wondering what the Hoove’s been up to since he faked his own death.”

Kyle was seated at a table for two beside a large bay window. The window faced directly onto the putting green of the university golf course. A lank man who looked like a schoolboy was teaching a Duke coed how to putt in the dark. The jock was standing behind his lady, showing her his best putt-putt moves.

Kyle was watching the lesson of the links with obvious amusement. I watched Kyle with obvious amusement. He turned as if he could sense my presence.

“Man, you have a nose for bad trouble,” he said by way of a greeting. “I was sorry to hear that your niece is missing. It’s good to see you, in spite of the particularly vile and shitty circumstances.”

I sat down across from the agent, and we started to talk shop. As always, he was extremely upbeat and positive without sounding naïve. It’s a gift he has. Some people feel that Kyle could wind up at the top of the Bureau, and that it would be the best thing that ever happened.

“First, the honorable Ronald Burns appears in Durham. Now you show up. What gives?” I asked Kyle.

“Tell me what you have so far,” he said. “I’ll try to reciprocate as much as I can.”

“I’m doing psych profiles on the murdered women,” I told Kyle. “The so-called rejects. In two of the cases, the rejected women had very strong personalities. They probably gave him a lot of trouble. That could be why he killed them, to get rid of them. The exception was Bette Anne Ryerson. She was a mother, in therapy, and she might have had a nervous breakdown.”

Kyle massaged his scalp with one hand. He was also shaking his head. “You’ve been given no information, no help whatsoever. But zip-a-dee-doo-dah”—he smiled at me—“you’re still a half-step ahead of our people. I haven’t heard that theory about the ‘rejects.’ It’s pretty good, Alex, especially if he’s a control freak.”

“He could definitely be a control freak, Kyle. There has to be a damn good reason why he got rid of those three women. Now, I thought you were going to tell me some things I didn’t know.”

“Maybe, if you pass a few more simple tests, that is. What else have you figured out?”

I bad-eyed Kyle while I slowly sipped my beer. “You know, I thought you were all right, but you’re just another FBI prick.”

“I was programmed at Quantico,” Kyle said in a passable computer voice. “Have you done a psych profile on Casanova?”

“I’m working on it.” I told him what he already knew. “As much as I can with virtually no information available.”

Kyle beckoned with the cupped fingers of his right hand. He wanted it all, and then maybe he’d share something with me.

“He has to be someone who blends into the community well,” I said. “No one’s even come close to catching him. He’s probably driven by the same obsessive sexual fantasies that he’s had since he was a boy. He could have been the victim of abuse, maybe incest. Maybe he was a Peeping Tom, a rapist, or a date rapist. Now he’s a very fancy collector of extremely beautiful women; he seems to choose only the extraordinary ones. He’s researching them, Kyle. I’m almost sure of it. He’s lonely. Maybe he wants the perfect woman.”

Kyle shook his head back and forth. “You are so goddamn crazy, man. You think like him!”

“Not funny.” I grabbed Kyle’s cheek between my thumb and forefinger. “Now you tell me something I don’t know.”

Kyle pulled away from my cheekhold. “Let me run a deal by you, Alex. This is a good deal, so don’t get cynical on me.”

I raised my hand high in the air for the table waitress. “Check! Separate checks, please.”

“No, no. Wait. This is a good deal, Alex. I hate to say, ‘Trust me,’ but trust me. Just to prove my truthfulness, I simply can’t tell you everything right now. I’ll admit that the case is definitely bigger than anything you’ve seen so far. You’re right about Burns. The deputy director wasn’t down here by accident.”

“I figured Burns wasn’t here to see the azaleas.” I felt like yelling at Kyle inside the quiet hotel bar. “Okay, tell me one thing I don’t know already.”

“I can’t tell you any more than I already have.”

“Damn you, Kyle. You haven’t told me a goddamn thing.” I raised my voice. “What’s the deal you have for me?”

He put up a hand. He wanted me calm for this. “Listen. As you know, or suspect, this is already a four-star, multijurisdictional nightmare, and it hasn’t really heated up yet. Believe me on that. Nobody’s getting anything done, Alex. Here’s what I’d like you to consider.”

My eyes rolled back. “I’m glad I’m sitting down for this,” I said.